Man, it seems like no one is posting nowadays. Maybe the blogging fad has passed among my circle of friends. Maybe my circle of friends is just passing. Leaves me with kind of a sad and lonely feeling. Could just be the tacos I ate.

Anyway. Things out on the ranch I call work are still going. The past three work days – Thursday, Friday, Monday – have been “casual” days for all of us peon employees. The big boss lady – one of the VP’s – has been at a principal’s conference in SoCal and so we’ve been looking forward to kicking back and taking a break for weeks now. One of our deans (dean?) of students even threatened to come to work in sweats. My gag reflex thanks him for restraining. We’ve all been in jeans and flip flops and sweatshirts with pigtails and coffee and candy. And it’s been hell. Why, God? Why do high school students have such an insatiable thirst for stupidity?

We are two weeks behind. TWO WEEKS! Normally, we are mere days behind in attendance. Ideally – we like to be three days behind. Any more than that is just presumptuous. But we are still trying to clear absences from two weeks ago. Why? Because high schoolers are dumb. We’ve had two of our office aides steal hall pass forms from the office to allow their friends to wander the halls. We’ve had almost 25 students suspended for tobacco and drug use, kicking teachers, and other horrendous things. This afternoon at lunch, two students flipped their SUV causing a two mile back up of class bound kids. The firemen showed up and were forced to use the jaws of life to get them out. They’re okay…but they flipped the SUV because they tried to drive on the sidewalk to avoid traffic.

And it’s officially happened. Today was the first day I actually thought “I really hate this job.” I’m sure it’ll pass, but I’m getting fed up with parents covering for their kids and kids lying to their parents and myself getting stuck in the middle. “Yes, your child has missed 17 days of class and yes, we do automatically drop them at 20. No, we can’t change policy because your child is heartsick. Yes, I”ll transfer you to the principal’s voice mail.” Because obviously, the principal is more apt to circumvent school district policy than I.

On a positive note, my cynical side is fat and healthy.