"Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know..."

A Facebook discussion group was established for our small town/county a little over a year ago, and I have to say, it has been a hugely positive thing for the most part.

I am sure there are people who work for our small school district who don't feel the same way, but after having a child in the schools here for twelve years, through good and bad, having a visible forum for local parents to air concerns has forced our district to change.

No longer can they count on problems just going away as soon as parents leave the building, or as unsubstantiated rumors.  It's right there on Facebook, in black and white (and blue), and everyone can see it.

I wish we'd had this discussion board years ago, like when Mr. Harper, the wonderful AP Physics teacher at the local high school, finally gave up on being treated right by the district and left to teach where he'd be happier.  Or when there were no textbooks for the math and science classes.

I'm glad we have it now.  I'm seeing more and more parents posting about the issues at the junior high that have been continuously swept under the rug for years.  The bullying issues.  The huge fights that happen on the Maple Street walking path after school.  The inconsistent way things are treated.  It's infuriating, and I'm glad it's getting a spotlight.

I'm glad some of the policies at the elementary school my son used to go to are being spotlighted, too.

I'm hoping this continues.  I remember the discussion when a bond election to build a new high school was coming up, and how many people in our town truly did not realize how badly it was needed.  In their minds (and there are still some people who persist in this belief) there is no need for a new high school.  They truly do not see that our schools are practically bursting at the seams, and the current building is falling apart.  It has reached the point where it's cheaper to build an entirely new school than it would be to repair the existing building and add on to it.   There are still people who think it is "too fancy" for us, and it is very hard for me not to laugh hysterically at them.

Really?  Are you kidding me?  We are so far behind other districts, in education, in facilities, it's not even funny.  And I just mean basic, bare-bones facilities, not the bells and whistles.

Maybe I'll raise these issues on the discussion board later, but for now, I'll simply be grateful that the district's dirty laundry is finally being aired.

Out of the Bushes...

So this morning, I wasn't at my sharpest.  

Alright, let's face it, most mornings, I'm not at my sharpest.  Sometimes, there just isn't enough caffeine on the planet, you know?  But this morning?  Oy.

First off, when the Impossible Son and I stepped out onto the front porch to leave for school, he stopped and went, "Uh... Mom?"

"What?" I asked as I locked the front door.

"Look," he said a little too calmly, so I turned around and looked toward the driveway and my mouth dropped open.

"Where the hell's my car???" I asked, shocked, because it wasn't in its usual place at the end of the driveway.  Then memory kicked in and I looked up toward the garage and went, "D'oh!"  Because I'd forgotten that the Husbandly One had moved it to air up the tires.

Yes, I normally park at the end of the driveway.  Why?  Because there are billions and billions of little tiny birds that live in the red-tipped photinias that our predecessors planted alongside the driveway and (1) they are the most prolific poopers on the planet and (2) they have extremely accurate aim when it comes to the vehicles I drive.  I mean, I actually gave up washing the minivan when we had it, because I would have had to wash it four times a day every single day!

Everybody knew my van, because it was the red one covered with bumper stickers... and bird poop.  Not exactly a notoriety I was comfortable with, you know?

So when we got the CR-V, I made the decision to park it at the end of the driveway, before the bushes.  Results?  No more bird poop.  I'm the only one who parks in the driveway anyway, so might as well park the way I want, right?  *sigh*

So, the Impossible Son and I got in the car, my son chattering away as usual, I start the car, put it in reverse and check the mirror, preparing to back out.   All of a sudden, a tall, thin, grey-haired figure lurches out into the street from behind the bushes, slack-faced and dragging one leg, one arm swinging wide while the other is held straight down and in front of a stiff body.  The early morning light casts a grayish yellow pallor to the skin, and my first thought is, "Holy crap, the zombie apocalypse is real, WTF???"

Mr. Impossible says, "Mom?  You okay?  What is it, what's... OMG, Mom, is that... is that a zombie???"

The Husbandly One nearly got a frantic phone call to come home RIGHT NOW!!!

However, my brain kicked into gear and I said, "No, honey, that's the sewing lady who lives down the street."

"Why's she walking like that?" he asked, watching her lurch her way down the street.  

"She had a stroke a few years ago," I said as I plugged in the iPod to give my pounding heart a chance to slow back down to a more normal rhythm.  "We usually see her walking in the mornings."

"Yeah, but from the other side." Mr Impossible watched her go as I slowly backed out.  "Guess she decided to take a different route today."

"Yep," I said, and we made our way to school.  

The funniest part though is, until that moment, I never realized how much zombies in movies walk like stroke victims.  No, really, think about it.  The same stiff legged gait, the arms held out for balance, one swinging loosely, the other sometimes curled up close to the body, or held out straight, the slack-jawed face or dead expression with one side of the face drooping... 

Yep, I was definitely awake as I took off for the school.  Nothing like a couple of shocks to get the old adrenaline pumping!

I'll take a pass on that tomorrow, though, thanks.