So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu

Last time I left town I could tell people were panicking, worried, freaking out, because I left no word of where I was going or when I'd be back. (This is a rule we insist our kids respect--you'd think I would have been considerate enough to keep it myself). This having been said, I think you should know that I'll be leaving tomorrow morning and will be back next Monday night. I will be here if you need me. I probably won't have a chance to blog until at least Wednesday, because I'll be a Poll Manager for Tuesday's primary election. If nothing else, this opportunity should provide me with some blog fodder if the other does not (unlikely).

Before I go, here's a story for you. Yesterday in Primary I had to take three classes, since none of them had teachers that felt like showing up that day. I arrived at church thinking it was a day off of sorts--I had nothing to do except monitor potty breaks and collect the rolls--how very wrong I was. I had even dressed for the occassion--since the air conditioning keeps the building at subzero temperatures and I would just be sitting around, I wore a suit, nylons, and closed-toe shoes. Again, let me stress how wrong I was.

There were eleven children between the ages of four and eight, and I (not being an actual teacher) had no lesson prepared. At least four of the children present a regular behavior problem. In a semi-panic on the way to the classroom, I asked another member of the presidency to find one of the parents for me. I could just see myself breaking into a profuse sweat as the children climbed all over me, and I had no one to save me. My nice jacket would be ruined. I didn't even have a watch and had no idea when I would be set free. Maybe no one would even come to tell me. I could be there all day. So a friend of mine showed up a few minutes later with her two-year-old and one-year-old in tow. "Are you sure you want me?" she asked, as she eyed the room full of monkeys (including her daughter) skeptically.

"Yes!" I practically shrieked, as I dragged her into the room and held the door shut behind her. "Don't leave me!!" So she stayed, and ended up being an invaluable resource for retrieving paper and crayons when we ran out of lesson material ("We had this lesson last week!"), and also for watching the kids color while I ran to see if we had less than thirty minutes to go before it was time to leave. Because if you only have twenty-five minutes left, you can easily use that amount of time to do clean-up and bathroom/water fountain breaks.

Anyway, I survived, so did my friend, so did all the kids, and everything worked out. I think I was only responsible for two after-church beatings by parents, so it was a good day. The story I wanted to tell was this: One of (I say "one of," because there are several) the super-hyper-mega ADHD genius kids in the class was creating an especially raucous disturbance, wrestling with his cousin and yelling out hilarious comments. At one point, his cousin started rifling through the trash can, and they'd pull stuff out and play with it. Imagine my delight when SHM-ADHD-GK hands me a piece of paper and yells, "Hey! This says 'reverence.' Maybe you should put that up on the board so it will remind people to be quiet."

"What a great idea," I said, pinning the torn and wrinkled paper to the board.

And then he proceeded to spend the remainder of the class time yelling at other kids to read the note.

Sometimes the most obvious things go right over people's heads.

Have a lovely, lovely week.