It's classroom visitation night. For those of you new to primary school jargon, that means parents come pick up their kids' report cards and then stop by to ask me why Oliver Overachiever has a 93 instead of a 94, or why Janie Slackslot has a 75. They're supposed to start coming in ten minutes (5:30), but some are already prowling the halls. I'm hunkered down behind my desk, sitting under the radar, if you will. I sincerely love when my parents are involved with their children's education and back me up, but seeing them all at the same time wears me out. I'm hoping the nice weather inspires them all to go to Dairy Queen instead of coming here.
At 6:30, I am out of here like greased lightening.