A School Without Balls

In what is hopefully the final chapter of the Puppy/Glasses Saga of 2020, we stopped by the glasses clinic, and our good friend, Bob, put brand spanking new lenses into HD’s frames.

And HD will now be too cool for school and not have to go to his new school with visible teeth marks on his lenses.  As if middle school isn’t tricky enough.

Life is incredibly busy over here.  As soon as I finish this post and my cup of coffee, I am going to need to get camping stuff ready and then figure out what I need to take to my new building.  My entire classroom is currently boxed up in my basement.

Taylor.  What do you need to bring with you to your new job?

I will be in one room with all four first grade teachers. In an effort to make my new team like me, I am for sure bringing a spare Keurig coffee machine, a microwave, a mini fridge, and my winning personality.  I remind me of the girl who went to elementary school with me and would pay kids in candy bars to play with her.

I am practically deaf in my right ear.  This is not news.

It comes in handy upon occasion.  For example, last night, our old dog, Tank, was being loud and panting.  I don’t know why he does this.  I go round and round with him and offer him water and food and a bathroom break, but he just wants to sit by my side and pant.  So, I just lay on my left side and then all noise goes away and I am a happy camper.  It’s like my own magic mute button.

It is somewhat detrimental upon other occasions.  Like all professional situations.  I have always had a terrible time in large group meetings.  But now, let’s throw in this new social distancing concept and throw a mask on everyone.

Yeah.  Taylor has no idea what is going on.

This is undoubtedly a surefire way to impress my new coworkers.

We are in this giant middle school cafeteria, all spaced apart.  The superintendent has come to deliver an inspiring speech.  Because we are the new team of teachers for a brand new online school that is currently still being thought of.

And, trust me.  We need inspiration this year.  We really need to believe we can fly.  Maybe even touch the sky.

So, he is up front.  No microphone, but he does have his mask on, which takes away my ability to read lips.

I don’t know if I even actually for real read lips, but let’s go with it for the purposes of this story, shall we?

So, he is telling us that we have an opportunity to be great and amazing, which of course, we will be, but then he keeps talking about how he are so lucky because we are going to be:

A School Without Balls.

And I am over here trying to figure out what kind of corny joke he has made, but I scan the half faces of my colleagues, and no one appears to look amused and/or confused.

So, I pretend to understand why I should be so pleased to have a school without balls.

And if anyone has been on recess duty before and a kid has kicked a ball over a fence, you might truly be glad that there are no more balls.  But if we are going to sit here and be inspired over the perks of no recess for our new online school, we should instead be listening to an inspirational speech entitled:

A School Without That Stupid Tire Swing That Everyone Fights About All The Livelong Day.

But, I digress.

Upon reflection, I feel like what he really said was:

A School Without Walls.

Maybe?

Yes.  People should trust me to teach their six year olds foundational reading skills.  Why do you ask?

Alright!  I am off to change the world!

Wish me luck!