Code blue in the Portable

Well. . .back to school it has been. On Monday I had planned to get my "new" room all ready. I'm in what is lovingly referred to as "the trailer park" this year. . .a set of portables on the end of the school building. This harkens back to my first year of teaching in Abilene at Crockett Elementary where I had the dubious honor of inhabiting THE OLDEST (and it was my principal who told me so) portable in all of AISD--open flame in the furnace and all.

To many the portable is a great thing. . .our classrooms in my building tend to be the size of cracker boxes--and trying to fit 28 pubescent children into one is a sight to behold. But I had come to grips with my little room after the two years I'd spent getting to know it. Plus I got to have some lovely blue gingham curtains on my windows.

Now I have a portable--which is a good thing--don't get me wrong. My windows actually look out on DAYLIGHT rather than a hallway. I am Commander in Chief of my own thermostat. I am already outside in case of fire. We have a field right out our door should the desire for a quick game of "Vocabulary Kick Ball" strike my fancy. Portables are GGGGGGGGGG-reat.

Except whomever laid out my portable (a man who'd better be glad I don't know who he is) must have had a bad day when it came to mine. . .all on one wall is a 3 ft. sq. box that hangs down from the ceiling and hits me right about forehead level. It houses the internet brains for all of the portables. Next to it is a dry erase board. Under the dry erase board is my ONLY internet hook up. Next to the dry erase board are my air conditioner intake/output vents. They deliver lots of air--good in Houston. They deliver it with the force of a tropical storm and the noise of several 6th graders jumping on a ceiling--not good for sitting a computer in front of. Next to those is the fuse box for, again, ALL of the portables. They are all in a nice little line. And they all make that wall completely inaccessible. The fly in the ointment (other than being electronics central for the trailer park) is the internet hook up. There is only ONE place in my room a huge computer cart (complete with t.v. monitor) can go. . .and it's RIGHT in front of my dry erase board. SHEESH.

I discovered all of this on Monday when I entered my portable for the first time. If you've read my previous blog, then you know I was already a little blue--but the honest truth is I was "all-the-furry-of-hell-is-about-to-be-unleashed-in-a-thunderstorm" kind of blue, and I was NOT happy.

So. . .after moving furniture back and forth and forth and back--SERIOUSLY--for THREE HOURS and staring at the furniture and trying to come to grips with the concussive metal box that SOMEONE will injure themselves on this year there was only one thing to do.

Pitch a fit.

So I did.

A royal fit.

A fit that would have embarrassed my momma.

A fit I would have spanked one of my children for.

I screamed.

I kicked a chair.

I jumped up and down about four times.

And then I decided it would be better if I just went home.

So I did.

I got home, ate some dinner, took a shower, put on my bedtime lavender and camomile lotion, donned my lovely cotton nightgown, put some leave-in-smell-good conditioner in my hair, and that was that. The kids were at swim lessons with their Daddy, so I had a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet. . .and in those few minutes the planets of my world realigned and my nice shade of pink came back.

I think I should have kicked the chair sooner.

Tomorrow. . .how can a woman with two doctorates use the sentence "There needs to be a clear, clarifying discussion. . ." and get away with it?