Today was just one of those days. First of all, as my school's testing coordinater, I had to coordinate (thus the title) our field testing for the newest version of state testing torture. And since it is a new test, I decided that I should be one of the test administrators so that I would understand better how this one will work and therefore be able to train future test administrators more knowledgably. Since only two small groups needed to take the test, there were only two test administrators. Simple. Right?
So we gather the kids, give them the talk about how they "get" to help the state decide if this is a good test or not, and then move on to our testing rooms where we try to further persuade them that they should do their best even though it doesn't count for anything. Well, I'm not allowed to discuss anything about the test, unless I want to lose my license and therefore my livelihood, I can only say that it was a disturbing experience on many levels. (And I feel sure that my constant hacking and coughing was not a disruption to the environment.)
Thirty minutes into the test, my principal walks in with a stack of tests and a terrified look on his face. (In case big brother is reading, he has been duly trained with oath signed, so it was ok for him to come in.) He informs me that the other test administrator has had to ride in an ambulance to the hospital with one of our other students (not one of the testers). Good grief. Testing coordinator's nightmare come true. I'm happy to report that I was able to get that situation resolved and get my kids tested and get ready for tomorrow's test, but wow. Insanity.
As I'm heading out of the building (with all tests locked up and secure), I decide that those twenty-seven people who told me that I should go to the doctor might be on to something. So I head to the after hours clinic...you know, the one where you wait for five hours with a roomful of hacking, coughing, snorting, spewing, sick people. I sign in and find a place to sit that is near a kleenex box and facing the television.
And a miracle happens. In less than thirty minutes, I'm diagnosed, paying my $20 co-pay (not some trumped up after hours price), and heading out the door with perscription in hand. But wait...there's more...I drop my perscription off and have it filled and paid for in only two minutes, sixteen seconds. Well, that may be exagerated a little, but really...it was super fast. In less than ninety minutes from when I left work, I was doctored, dosed, and drowsing in my recliner.
And some people say miracles have ceased.
2 comments:
I'm pretty sure God saves the miracles like you described for days like you had today. Way to go AHC (After Hours Clinic)!
PS Could you explain the title of your blog? I've been trying to figure it out, probably assuming there's some deep, rich meaning somewhere. I've even considered the possibility that "Socks" is an acronym for something like "Some Orioles Can Kick Sopapillas." Help me out, would ya?
What a nice end to a crazy day. I'm glad you finally got meds and can hopefully improve that cough.
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