A Picture is Worth .....

I’m back blogging after one heck of a brutal week at school. This week was one of the worst in recent memories with respect to emotional pain and suffering. This week, at least 6 students came to me with “Mr. M. I need your help but you can’t tell anyone else about this”. Great - tie my hands right at the onset of the conversation, fill me with your emotional problems and then allow me to twist in the wind while trying to figure out how to help you - all without benefit of counsel because “I can’t tell anyone”. Now these were not trivial issues such as those I faced in school such as getting caught smoking or even drinking on a school trip. No, these kids, maybe it is a reflection on our society, were dealing with extremely ugly problems that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Anyway, I muddled through the week being dragged down every time I heard that phrase, “Mr. M. I need your help but ...”. Add to that the emotional upheaval of one girl getting dumped by her boyfriend and another deciding to go through the pain of dumping her boyfriend. In a school dominated by teenage girls (75% of the population), you can imagine the emotional tides ripping through the school. And to top off the week (may I add that this was the first 5 day work week this year if that wasn’t enough of a burden - I mean I was really getting to enjoy the 4 day a week schedule) I had to suspend a boy from school for 3 weeks this afternoon.

I wish that I had not forgotten my camera at school today so that I could take a picture of myself to show you how dragged out I am at the end of this week. But I did forget it so I must rely upon painting you a picture. Imagine that you were to fill a clean, durable sack with human (or otherwise) excrement. Now take this sack and throw it out of a 3 storey window onto a parking lot where it gets run over by at least 5 cars and one large truck. Next, go down to retrieve the sack from the parking lot but before doing so, take a rather large, wet cat by the tail and start beating the sack with the cat. After the cat has puked up on the sack you take a mental image of that sack and you would have the picture that I would have taken.

Thanks for allowing me to rant. Now the next step in the therapeutic recovery of Bob is to beat a bottle of Scotch into submission as quickly as possible.

P.S. - I didn’t even mention that last night at 6 pm when I tried to go home (the first time before 7 pm all week), a parents car had stalled in the single lane driveway of the school and the tow-truck operator managed to smack himself on the head with an iron bar while trying to jack up the car and he wound up laying flat on his back in the middle of the driveway with blood oozing from his head. I hate to sound like an insensitive bastard but I just wanted to go home but by the time the ambulance took the guy away it was once again past 7 pm.