Rushing

Stayed up late working on a week of sub plans. Wednesday is going to be simply hell. It is a day that I have a schedule with no prep periods, plus I have duty during 1st recess, so my last day before my trip will be busy. Meanwhile I am desperately trying to get some final grading done so I can give out academic notices as needed before I go. I have to do that so the parents get them early enough to know if their child is having some problems before the end of semester exams hit.

Plus I have to wash some clothes, pack, make sure I have all of my documents and whatever else must be done before I leave tomorrow morning. I need to be at the airport at about 7am so there won't be a lot I can do Thursday morning.

In a rush to be on the road...

Gift Bag

There are students, and then there are students. Opened the front door this morning for Lisa to catch the morning expreso to her school. There was a little gift-bag type of thing sitting on the front porch. What is this? Inside is a bunch of papers and a note.

"Ms Evans, it is 10:45 at night. Sorry for the late hour but I wanted to turn these journals to you. I could not find your doorbell. The papers are in the bag. Sorry for the late hour."

Evidently Lisa told her classes that if they had late assignments turned in by yesterday, she would be able to grade them before grades had to be posted for report cards on Wednesday. Anything turned in today wasn't guaranteed to be graded in time. Of course, my question would be if credit can be given for an assignment turned into the teacher's home at 10:45 pm and still be counted "on time."

My opinion can not be expressed on a public board.

Barefoot Gringo

What fun. Lisa doesn't like to grade at home, because there are generally too many distractions for her to concentrate. So she heads out and asks me to check on our parakeet we keep on the front porch. No problem. She heads off and I see the bird's perch is askew. I spend some time straightening it, doing feed, and making the little girl comfortable. Then I turn to go in and see the front door is locked closed.

I am in my shorts, no shirt, no shoes, no keys, no cell. Lisa has just gone off to spend several hours grading.

Oh joy.

Nothing to it but to walk barefooted across the sizzling pavement (the equatorial sun is just blazing today) for three blocks, cross the main street of Victor Emilio Estrada to the little shopping center where Lisa normally goes to grade. First little restaurant, not there. I see her at the second place, through the window, but the guard at the door is not going to let a bare-footed, bare-chested guy come waltzing into the place. but I call out and Lisa hears me. She quickly sizes the situation up. She has a massive grin and says joyfully "I bet I know what happened!" as she dangles her keys in front of me.

So much fun, living in Ecuador, don't you think?