Crash Test Darlings

The most difficult classes make me better. Recently, I dubbed my 4th period class my Crash Test Dummies, which brought immediate gasps from shocked students, until I explained how engineers use data from crash tests to make automobiles safer, and told my most difficult class how much I loved having a class like theirs because all their off-task behaviors helped me correct weaknesses in my classroom procedures. Since I referred to "My CTD's" in a child's year book, whose mother had called the Principal to complain about an email that I sent her with my observation that I had noticed her child rolling around the floor with another girl during a review for the final exam, in the spirit of Odysseus, on whom I am modeling the protagonist of the book I am writing, An Odyssey, my bathroom Athena whispered in my ear that it might be more prudent to refer to classes like these, with the more politically correct label, "Crash Test Darlings."

As I began a new day, a day after signing out with Dr. P, who advised me, "you should go," after I explained that I would not be going to my grandma's 100th birthday party until I knew for sure that I had a job, and per county regulations, he explained the hiring process, which effectively tied his hands until after July 14th, I awoke with the decision to attend the party, and the admonition, "we must walk by faith and not by sight." His recommendation was that I spend the next three weeks taking a vacation.

Considering the offbeat way that I was considered for the long term sub position which provided the double edge sword by which I could either disqualify myself or get results, a lesson I taught on solids, liquids, and gasses, my tagline, "gas, always funny," and my punchline, "there's something in the air," perhaps a certain amount of irrationality and risk-taking might be appropriate in making this life-altering decision. The rational thing to do would be to pay my bills, and seeing just how far in the red I am operating, allow my stomach-turning current cash position to determine my destiny, but just as midway through life's journey, Dante read the sign as he descended into Hell, "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here," and made the bold decision to allow Virgil to be his guide regardless, today, I will trust in an implied message, and rely on Delphic data my Crash Test Darlings produced, which demonstrated beyond any shadow of a doubt that I had came out on the right side of a high-risk situation.