I want to let you all know that I made a serious effort to get my taxes done this weekend, but the stupid mmmmfmfffdfmsmf tax software didn't have anyplace for me to enter one state's income, and the software that I used last year, which let me do part-year resident returns with no problem, now wants to charge me thirty dollars per state!

Needed to let off the steam there. Will have to figure something out tonight, though the paper return for VA looks even more confusing!

My older brother launched himself out of the cot and into a concussion and subsequent hospital trip as our mother was trying to watch the Moon landing. One giant leap indeed.

amych, I must confess I always think of your nom de guerre as 'amitch' in my head.

Heh. The other day, I tried to explain to The Boy about Buffista Conversation #823, In Which We Discuss Phonetic Pronunciation Of Board Names.

He pretty much just gave me the "That's nice, crazy lady" look.

I know I'm not much of a Bitch these days, and I'm sorry to bust up in here like this, but I NEED a place to rant very quickly where I know there will be ears.

I'm at school, in my prep period. I should be finishing preparations for my next class, but can't concentrate because I'm a mess.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, all of our students gather in the gym for our Morning Welcome Session after first period. Today, I already wasn't feeling great because my first period class went pretty poorly (I didn't make my instructions clear enough). But then, the session is being run by our counselor, which means that the principal and the dean are both out of the building - never a good thing. Then, the counselor (who I love and adore but is sometimes a bit clueless) announces that the principal is in a meeting, and then announces that the dean is in a meeting all day as well, and won't be here.

And the students cheered. All of them, across the board, cheered! The counselor gave them the opening, and didn't cut it off quickly enough, and almost seemed to understand, which by itself I find infuriating and beyond understanding, but mostly I'm ashamed of my students.

I understand that deans, who enforce discipline, are rarely popular. I understand that our dean in particular is not always a perfect disciplinarian, and occasionally succumbs to favoritism and mild disrespect towards students. I understand that students don't like her, and she understands that as well. But for an entire room of students to cheer at an announcement that a staff member will not be in school for the day... it made me sick to my stomach.

Then, the counselor mentioned that she might be coming back, and the whole school groaned. I admit it, I screamed at them to stop it. I couldn't help myself. It was just so disgusting to me. I have never been witness to such an extreme of disrespect and immaturity.

I have been annoyed at my students, many times. Angry, several. Furious, occasionally. But I have never in my teaching career been ashamed of my kids, of my school, of my job. Until today. Until now. And I still have to teach all day.

I always thought of Thomash with aspirated "th" and "sh". Although aspirated probably isn't the right word, it's all I could think of.

First time I met bon bon, she had to tell me to stop calling her "[first name] [middle name]" -- I was so used to thinking of her that way!

amych, I must confess I always think of your nom de guerre as 'amitch' in my head.

Oh, I meant to say re: this - the "ch" in "Amych" should clearly be pronounced as the Hebrew back-of-the-throat sound in "challah" or "baruch."

(What, you mean my internal b.org voiceover narration doesn't make the rules for everyone? Travesty!)

Gris, I understand your feeling, and certainly the counselor should have foreseen that and not given them the opening. I've seen exactly that sort of reaction to similar news, and it is disappointing -- especially since there's a group normalization of the disrespect.

(ETA: You people are crazy! It's obviously "aimeetch".)

Gris, I'm sorry your students disappointed you like that. I'm guessing that for a number of them it was a mob-rule situation. The person sitting next to them started cheering, so s/he did, too -- so guilty of extreme thoughtlessness.

I think you should scrap your lesson plans in so far as it is possible and talk about their reaction and yours.

You people are crazy! It's obviously "aimeetch".

Is not! It's amy-see-aitch and amy-tee-aitch.

Gris, what's the age range of the students? If you've mentioned it, I can't remember.

Phone: Guess what day it is? *rin*

Me: Monday.

Phone: And? *ring*

Me: I don't know...oh, fuck, it's April 14th, isn't it?

Phone: Yeah. W2 requests up the ASS, boyee... *ring*

Me: What if I just...disconnected you?

Phone: Wouldn't make any diff to me, but your boss might not be happy. *ring*

Me: I hate you.

Phone: Hey, just the messenger here. *ring*

Me: I'm beginning to think the practice of "shooting the messenger" is one that should be revisited.

Phone: You'd go through a lot of phones. *ring*

Me: Oh, I think I'd go through just the one.

FuckCake O' the Day: I called last week and I DEMAND my W2!!

(Note: She DID call last week and demand her W2. Which we had sent in January, and confirmed that we had sent it to the correct address. Reprints cost $12.50 after March 1. She was not pleased and threatened to call the IRS. To which threat we answered "Okay."

There is a HI-larious recording of her call circulating through the office. She is well known to us now.)

Me: (Reconfirmation of correct address, reiteration of policy re: Reprints and cost.)

FCO'tD: That is outRAGEOUS! Fine. Here's my credit card number. XXXX...

Me: Ma'am, I'm sorry, we don't have the facility to take credit cards here.

FCO'tD: Then what are my options?

Me: Check or money order made out to [company]

FCO'tD: Well, can I fax a check?

Me: ...no.

FCO'tD: Well, how am I supposed to get you the money?

Me: I can give you our mailing address, or alternately, you can come by with cash, check or money order and pick it up.

FCO'tD: You all are a bunch of incompetent shitheads.

Me: ...

FCO'tD: I have only gotten rotten service from you. You suck.

Me: (bored now) ...

FCO'tD: I'm going to call the IRS and tell them you won't issue me a W2!

Me: That is your prerogative, ma'am. We do show that we did, in fact, issue you a W2 and sent it to [address], which you have confirmed is your correct address. We are in compliance with the law and are under no obligation to provide you reprints free of charge after March 1. We do not generate our W2s in-house and must request reprints from our service, which charges us, and we have to charge you in turn. Had you called us before March 1...

FCO'tD: I was out of town the middle of March.

Me: ...

FCO'tD: I'm calling the IRS.

Me: As you wish.

FCO'tD: *click*

some time later...

Phone: Guess what? *ring*

Me: Seriously?

FCO'tD: I want to speak to your manager.

Me: (knowing full well who this is) And what is your name, please?

FCO'tD: [FuckCake O' the Day].

Me: And this is in reference to...?

FCO'tD: I DEMAND MY W2!!

Me: Let me just see if we received that back...

FCO'tD: YOU DIDN'T, YOU CHECKED LAST TIME I CALLED, YOU'RE CHARGING ME FOR A REPRINT WHICH IS AGAINST THE LAW!

Me: I'm sorry, but that is incorrect. Per IRS regulations...

FCO'tD: Just...let me speak to a manager.

Me: Just a moment...I'm sorry, the person you need to speak to is [Mgr of Payroll], but she is away from her desk at the moment. Would you like to leave her a voicemail?

FCO'tD: ARRRGGGGHH!!