Have you ever had one of those days? You know, the kind that reinforces your suspicion that you’re Murphy’s redheaded stepchild?
I had one of those days several years ago. I was working two jobs, my regular teaching job in addition to teaching a supplemental program at our school’s aftercare. It had been an extremely long day and it was finally time to pack up all the remaining students and take them to the aftercare office for pickup.
As the kids were gathering their things and stacking their chairs, one little girl began dragging her chair in an excruciating manner, not unlike fingernails on a blackboard.
“Can we please use both hands to move the chair?!” I grumped.
She feebly waved her left hand at me. “I had a stroke,” she explained.
I gave myself a mental forehead smack. “Come on, let’s go.”