Return of the COB

I was sitting at my desk listening to the pounding beat of music and the screaming of third graders coming from the dance party next door, and all I could think was. . .

She's baaaaaack.

Yep, my alter ego, Cranky Old Broad, had returned.

Sure, it sounded like they were having a ton of fun next door.  Kids should have fun, right? And yes, I was happy that they were able to raise enough money for the Fun Run fund raiser to earn a dance party. But did it really have to be while some of my students were writing and others were trying to finish up a difficult math test? I mean, this music was LOUD. It might as well have been in my room.

All I could do was sit there and look at my poor students, many of whom were now bopping their heads to "It's Raining Tacos." They have a hard enough time concentrating in a perfectly silent room; this certainly wasn't going to help. A little voice inside my head told to go next door and demand they turn the music down and for goodness sake stop screaming.

And just when I had been doing so well.

Honestly. I had. Two days ago I laughed when a mom had to cut the drop-off line at school in her over-sized Yukon, her rear end jutting out, thus blocking the exit lane as well. I didn't even whisper, "Can't you read?" at the parents dropping off in the No Stopping zone. Parents teaching their kids to dart across the street instead of using the crosswalk? Why not? I said. It's their choice.

Really, I felt like I'd turned over a new leaf. Then this had to happen.

I found more things to complain about (at least inside my head) as the afternoon progressed. Kids who kept finding excuses to get up instead of read. The girl who argued that she hadn't been talking after I said three times not to, she'd only been asking her friend a question. The boy who took home his Fun Run t-shirt, even though I had said explicitly they were staying at school and everyone else's was still on their desk.

After school, I discovered my Helper of the Day hadn't been a whole lot of help as he had neglected to sharpen the pencils.  I grumbled to myself about what kids do to pencils as I sharpened the pathetic remains. Fortunately, I had picked up a new box from the supply room; the ones in the cup weren't going to be around much longer. I figured I might as well sharpen those, too; maybe we would actually get through the day tomorrow without running out.

Then, lo and behold, a miracle happened. My brand new pencils were pre-sharpened! Well, hallelujah! That was enough to make this cranky old broad mend her ways and turn into a decent and kind human being once again.

At least until tomorrow anyway.