My Brush with Death

So, yeah, I know it's been awhile. I have some things stored up to blog about; interesting things like cemeteries, flowers and the like. Can't wait? Well, gonna have to, because I need to write about my brush with death on Thursday night.

So, some of you may know I've been substitute teaching, otherwise known as subbing. Without explanation you might think I've either mis-spelled sobbing (which could easily happen) or slumming (same goes). This was supposed to be a part time help for the little school I've spent time in, volunteering--just enough help to "put on their Christmas play", since their teacher "peaced out" right after Thanksgiving. So in 6 easy lessons I am supposed to have these kids singing like angels for Mom and Dad.

Lets just start by saying these kids haven't been singing, according to the 8th graders, for 4 years! That's the last time they remember having a music teacher who actually had them sing. The asst. principal who roped me into this, also neglected to say I would have Pre-K as well. Three and four year olds! WOW, there are 24 of them!

So, I start out Week I seeing each class two times, trying to teach them the song they will sing. I'll tell you I was ready to hang it up right then. At the end of the week the principal told me I was doing great. "Remember", he said, "there have been brawls in this class this semester. These kids will be well behaved eventually. They just have had a different expectation of music class this year from the former teacher."

I came back for Week II, expecting that we would continue learning the song from Week I. Oh no, stop. A teacher comes into my class and says that the assistant principal has asked her to come into music class and teach the kids "their dance". Well, crap! Here I thought the point was to sing a song. Didn't know it was supposed to be the "Ziegfeld Follies"! It seems a few details weren't communicated to me, or "the left hand doesn't know what the "7734 upside down" the right is doing".

Week III starts. I'm hanging on by my fingernails. Oh, and I forgot to mention the principal wants to know if I'll teach full time next semester AND I have to tell him today. (Against my better judgement, I've agreed, in order to have food for the next few months.) (OK, apologies to God, here. I DO think he's trying his best to look out for me, and possibly the kids of SMC at the same time. But, hey God, could you ratchet it up a bit?) Back to Week III, the entire school comes to the gym to rehearse the whole show. I've taught the kids how to line up so they are good to go on the stage, but that gets canceled. I've told them where to sit, but that gets rearranged. I've taught the kids to bow after their song, but they don't do that. I've taught the kids how to get off the stage, but that gets rearranges, too. OK, clearly I'm not in charge. Wish somebody had clarified that when I was asked to "put on the Christmas show". The kids, at least the ones on the front row, are actually getting most of the dance and the song at the same time. Oh wait, the art teacher has props for them to hold. OMG, what next!*#@#!

What next you ask? The gunman. Yep, thats right. Thursday night comes, the kids are at the school in their home rooms waiting for the "Follies" to begin. A guy comes to the school with a gun looking for the father of one of the kids. He's brandishing a gun around. Now we're in "lock-down" the kids tell me, as if it's no big deal. The principal is running around, telling everyone to stay put. He's called the police. About 6 police cars come looking for the gunman. They can't find him. They CANCEL THE SHOW! Goodnight! Thanks for coming! We'll do it AGAIN next year/semester!!! "Ye Gods".......