IEPS, ROTS & Counting Crows

I was going to skip my blog post this week and whine about how I just ran out of time after completing our first newspaper deadline, turning in my first six weeks grades, training for the 3-day for the Cure, getting the upcoming Education Buzz Carnival ready and so forth and so on.

But then I remembered--a bit sadly--that this is a no-whining blog, so I won't do that. 

Of course, if I did, I would have to add a few other things. Things like instead of writing my post, I sort of decided to spend 90 minutes of my time watching the premiere of the Amazing Race (Did tatoo girl, really say she was in the "country of London?")

So instead, all that grading made me think that what I need is my very own IEP (Individual Education Plan) where one of my accommodations is that I don't have to turn in grades. I came to this realization while I was at hot yoga (and yes, it is hot in there). While sweating out all those toxins and high school cooties, I decided I do really rather like this teaching gig, but I'm not terribly fond of this grading thing. 

So maybe I can say that I have ROTS (Running Out of Time Syndrome) that causes panic/anxiety attacks directly traceable to grading, grade books and all things related to numbers.

Hmmmmmm, I wonder what the wonderful Dr. Al (my principal) would think of that?

As I pondered that very thing in hot yoga, Missy Chrissy Pretzel Yoga Instructor (one of my former yearbook editors) wanted us to bend ourselves into a sideways crow pose. (Sometimes I wonder if all those twisted poses are payback for all those yearbook deadlines.)

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the only crow I ever liked was Adam Duritz of the Counting Crows, and then that counting reminded me of numbers again which, of course, reminded me of all that grading again, which reminded me of asking Dr. Al for my very own IEP.

But something tells me I probably shouldn't count on that.

Air Travel, Taking Things Personally & A Free Pass

Sunday found me sitting on the tarmac at DFW airport waiting for an open gate, so our plane could taxi up and belch us out. I was returning from one of those re-occurring taking-care-of-family-stuff-trips and was just a smidge worried about my upcoming newspaper deadline, my yearbook pages still unsent, my purchase orders still undone and the topic of my blog post still undecided.

Jeez Louise, no wonder I stay so stressed.

I don’t know why I worried so. I should have learned by now that airports, airplanes and air travel in general provides as much fodder as a classroom filled with teenagers (although I find the teenage kind more amusing and their behavior more acceptable).

OK, so I’m squished into the middle seat way, way (did I say way?) in the back of a very, very full plane, and the woman next to me whips out her cell phone and starts gushing to someone about this fabulous book she’s been reading. (And sorry, Mr. Teacher, it’s not yours.)

The conversation went something like this…

“Blah, blah, blah, we’re the director, producer of our own lives…blah, blah, blah… we shouldn’t take things personally…blah…blah…blah…If someone points a gun to your head, don’t take it personally…”

I almost fell out of my seat (since I had illegally unbuckled my belt).

“Are you kidding me!” I almost screamed. “You better start taking things personally if someone has a frigging gun to your head! Are you a big, fat…”

(No, I didn’t say any of it although the bubble in my head was in overdrive.)

I realize I’m probably the only person on the planet who hadn’t heard of this little book, Four Agreements, until now. Guess I missed that episode of Oprah, but Holy, Moley Crack Fire, don’t ya think there are some things out there that one should just, well, I don’t know, take personally? You know, things like guns…pointing…at your head? (And, pah-leese, I don’t care if it was a metaphor. And, yes, I’m sure there’s probably much more to it than this little snippet.)

Still, all of that got me to thinking, and we all know what happens when that happens. I figured if guns pointing at one’s head shouldn’t be taken personally, well then, there’s lots of other things not to take personally… My short list included things like grades, yearbook pages, budget money, deadlines of any kind, eating mass quantities of anything, being late for anything, everything in the Things-That-Will-Get-You-Fired-Folder… me saying someone is dumber than a bag of cat hair…and so forth and so on…

You see, it sort of gives everyone a free pass, doesn’t it? Kind of like that get-out-of-jail-free card we love so much.

So I guess the next time a kid complains about his grade, I’ll just say, “Hey, don’t take it so personally.”

Yeah, that’s the ticket.