I "chews" atrophy: NOT "a trophy"

In-service days are tricky. No matter what is scheduled, teachers are going to complain. Packed with special speakers and professional development meetings? I wish they'd just give us time in our classrooms. A more open-ended day results in I wish they'd tell us what they expect of us. Introducing an auditorium full of grumpy educators to the latest craze in teaching wrapped in a fanciful acronym induces an impressive eye-roll wave while refresher courses injure delicate egos: I already know this... Why are they wasting my time? 

This latest in-service day was a doozy. The preceding e-mail instructing us to wear athletic gear for a Health & Wellness seminar set the building to buzzing. Teachers who would give their eye-teeth to wear sneakers to school were now grousing about appearing unprofessional on Superintendent's Day. The only one to appear truly happy was my friend Traci who once famously spit out her mouthful of sub-par brownie. "I'm not going to waste calories on that," she declared, stomping away from the wastebasket.

"I'm all for Health & Wellness," I told my husband later as I worked my way through a container of French onion chip dip, "but I don't need it foisted upon me." He paused on his way out of the living room to help hoist me out of my chair so I could get some more chips. "So what are you going to do?" he sighed, fearing the inevitable. "I don't know," I said wistfully, "but I'll think of something."

In a show of support (sadly lacking from my husband), my brother-in-law contributed the foundation of my packed with peanuts peaceful protest picketing plan. Wielding a yard of Snickers with back-to-back sassy slogan signs, I marched into the gymnasium. Turns out marching in sneakers doesn't have quite the same emotional impact as heavy boots. Plus my sassy slogans turned out to be a little too sophisticated for this crowd. Many mis-read my "atrophy" for "apathy" which I let go because it kind of worked. Others thought I meant "a trophy" which seemed humorously ironic. "Amy has problems with word spacing," a middle school colleague shared. How I miss middle school.

An administrator stopped by to peruse my protest signs. "I would take a knee," I told him, "but I can't get up out of that position." "Of course," he said, "hence your aversion to Health & Wellness." I tried to talk my friend Carl into being my designated runner in the case of burpees but he refused to take one for the team. Eventually, as all great protests go, concessions had to be made. I finally relinquished my picket sign in favor of a badminton racket. Except for taking a birdie to the nose, I decided that the Health & Wellness seminar wasn't so bad. Thank goodness I'm always so receptive to new ideas.