That Time of Year Again

I've often felt the school year starts as a slow torturous climb up a sheer precipice, its summit reached sometime Thanksgiving week. The rest of the year is a hurtling bumpy slide down the other side. (I watched The Mission last night and that over-the-waterfall scene is definitely pertinent here) and I don't have to check my calendar to know that the ass over teakettle descent has begun.
There is no hope of controlling the fall at this point. You just have to protect your most vulnerable parts and hope you can stand up when you reach the bottom, sometime before the fourth of July.
My view was once again upheld during the hilarious post TG faculty meeting. To those of you who were there, if you weren't suppressing the urge to either hyperventilate or shove your head through a window and scream for air you must have already drown because it was a classic example of how out of any one's control things get right about now.
After the waves of auction project planning and winter concert logistics crashed repeatedly on our heads we'd hardly caught our breath before we were pulled out to deep water by progress report deadlines and style sheets, and conference write-ups that were due last week.
We were treading water (though weakly) when we hit a patch of rocks and rough water. We would, it was announced, from now on, be known as a nut sensitive school. (Well OK, that seems prudent) Peanuts and sesame seeds were singled out as the chief pariahs, "tree nuts" were getting a pass, at least for a while. So we'll be getting our deputy nut police badges any day now and you know that also means no more ordering in cold noodles with sesame sauce? (What! Do you mean we can't eat what we want? Oh the humanity!)
The final item on the meeting agenda was "snacks." A benign subject, right? Apparently not. The triscuits, graham crackers, pretzels and veggie booty that have fortified our charges through the mid-morning blahs would now be supplemented by fresh food prepared by parents and brought into school, say, once a week. The brouhaha that ensued? Well, you'd thing the Hemlock Society had been contracted to take over the food service at Burpie Cow Wow.
And another thing, animal crackers would be no more as they contain the dreaded substance -trans fat.
"Whoa! that's all my kids eat!" came a plaintive cry from a far corner of the room. (So she'll need to hoard the last of the supply.) but wait, where can she store the stash? Such agonizing problems!
The extreme hardship of having to deal with strange food items being introduced into the classrooms and what of the self esteem of those children whose clueless parents bring in unpopular offerings? It's hard enough dealing with the weeping and gnashing of teeth when broken graham crackers are all that's left. And that veggie booty? Kids don't like it the way they like animal crackers. The teachers are eating it all up. You can see the telltale green flecks between their teeth.
There we all were, hurtling towards the falls, hardly able to keep our heads above water. It was as if we had been unexpectedly attacked by a school of ravenous fish (looking for a special snack, no doubt). The only reason most of us made it back to shore that night is that the fish were momentarily confused because a number of us were not sweet, some of us were cracked or broken and others had green flecks on their booties.