Unequivocally, the Best Week of Sentences Ever
Exaggeration is the 32-grams-of-sugar-per-serving fruit juice of life — though not many past the age of 9 find it all that fulfilling, a stalwart few will brave rotting cavities by taking a swig of it now and then. That said, each of you who participated in Wednesday’s Week in a Hyperbole brought me new horrors, surprises and unrivaled hilarity.
After all, even newcomer The Anthro Geek, not too long after continuing the case against today’s dogmatic, narrow-minded universities, wrote of his experiences fighting off a fearsome gaggle of geese, who soon made like a skein with his homework:
On the way to work, I was waylaid by a band of wild geese. They tore at my pant leg and made off with my bag, which included the report that was due today.
Founder Kevin wouldn’t have had this problem if he were at Nationals Park — the Pope doesn’t swing the bat as hard as those Godforsaken Yankees.
We were there, sitting in the grandstand seats of Fenway Park — me, a Yankees fan, and everyone else in my family, a Red Sox fan — when the foul ball heading our way disintegrated into a fiery ball of flame, and I realized that we now breathe baseball until October.
Old standby and Charter DiaS Member Liza Lee Miller flirts with simile before getting to the real meat of her week: standardized torture.
State testing leaves me drained like the desert during a draught. At times, it seems like a most exquisite form of child torture and yet it also gives me time to dig out from the gargantuan pile of papers that threatened the very lives of my students as it towers and sways over us.
Jane Swanson, famous for her frozen TV dinners, makes a catch at the expense of kin.
Muddy churning flood waters had risen to within millimeters of the Everest-like silver slide at the children’s playground, and so my over-eager, unsuspecting daughter, her eyes wild and burning with feverish excitement, collided with the greenish brown froth at the very same instant that a school of rainbow trout arrived on the scene for recess.
Mathew‘s day got immesurably better as it progressed.
I spent the day in a 24-hour staff meeting which began with analyzing the disaggregated state assessment data for evidence of effective instruction and rigor and then concluded with some dental work including two fillings and a root canal; I’m almost finished with my reflection on the experience now, and I gotta go back to have the crown put back on now.
Mrs. Zody doesn’t have to exaggerate. Every word she says is, apparently, true.
I have dealt with complete insanity this week. One student had a complete meltdown during testing, needing serious psychological counseling. After agreeing to write a grant for $100K, the assistant superintendent shoots back that it will just cause more work if we get it, so forget about it. I only wish this was hyperbole.
In the shadow of Zody, our very own returning not-so-blog-less Sara P-C shares her own stranger-than-hyperbole truth.
My school’s administrators are the type of incompetent fools who say that students should be able to get in three fights between March and June and still participate in the moving-up ceremony; who pick up and spin around the same students they told hours earlier to keep their hands to themselves; who are yet cruel enough to observe — for 40 minutes — the teacher on my team with the bound-for-hell class who didn’t go for professional development training, while all the rest of our 6th classrooms had subs in them.
My own humble submission is a million times moreso than any comment hereby preceding it.
My hateful credential classes could probably be made more painful, if only with the addition of literal rusty iron shackles, barbed-wire fences and unfed Rottweilers.
Last — and furthest from least — veritable DiaS poet laureate Elona Hartjes, while ignoring all convention of the general Day in a Sentence, paints such an idealistic climate for education that I’m sure all of us will be insanely jealous. We covet her classroom, even though we simultaneously note that she exaggerates.
This week all my classes had perfect attendance.
No one skipped.
This week all my students came to class on time.
No one was late.
This week all my students came to class prepared.
No one forgot their pens, pencils or notebooks
This week all my students came to class ready to learn.
No one complained about being hungry, tired or hating school.
This week all my students read and understood all the assignments I gave them.
No one asked me what I wanted them to do.
This week all my students handed their assignments in on early.
No one asked for an extension.
This week was perfect.
Just like all the other weeks this year.
There’s something to hang on the wall of your classroom. Pure catharsis.