pretend I am dead

The social committee came to me in the form of Mrs. Breast Pump. Mrs. BP has been taking advantage of many of us for months now. She is supposed to have two twenty-to-thirty minute pumping breaks. It is the law. But she is gone an hour to an hour and a half twice a day. I do not blame her. Her class is out-of-control, off the chain, and mean. A minute seems like forty. I watch her stop and talk to six people when she is supposed to return. I want to yell “get in here Missy!” Anyway, Mrs. BP came toward me one day and said this “We are having a retirement party for Mitzy. We don’t know what to do with you.” Mitzy and I are retiring the same day – June 1st. I know why she said this. Mrs. A, her mean girl friend and I got into it a week ago. Mrs. A. yelled at me in such a way, I was afraid she was going to hit me. I said “Pretend that I am dead. You would not have a party for a dead person right?” This is how fond I am of this school staff. “Really?” she asked, in an up-lilting way. Like she was delighted. Believe it or not, this is exactly what they did.