Today, I really considered wearing a snuggie to school.
Mostly because I was cold and cranky but also because I forgot to do my washing and all I had left in my school wardrobe was what I call my mermaid skirt. My mermaid skirt is a knee length black skirt that is verrrry tight around my legs. When I walk whilst wearing it, I shuffle like a self conscious mermaid, hence the name “mermaid skirt”.
Given the fact the wearing a snuggie would prompt my students to assume I’ve had a nervous breakdown (which I’m sure won’t happen for at least five years), I had to go with my mermaid skirt.
Firstly, I have to climb a flight of stairs to reach my staff room. Now, I once descended a mountain with a broken ankle, but this was a challenge.
Little did I know that the stairs would be the least of my problems.
At break, a football came towards me as I was doing yard duty. The students called towards me to kick it back.
“Go on miss!” the boys called in unison, as I realised that I could not actually extend my leg enough to kick the ball. Nor could I bend down to pick it up and throw it.
“Er, get it yourself lads,” I mumbled as I shimmied away.
Later in class, I had a similar conundrum. I dropped my whiteboard marker as I was explaining poetic devices. I do this often, and usually I bend down, pick it up and move on. Today, I just stared at it. When telekinesis didn’t work, I mumbled to a student up at the top of my class to pick it up for me. It was literally a foot away from where I stood.
After that class, I noticed a student skipping class in the hall. I was about twenty metres away from him.
“Hey! What are you doing?” The student froze on the spot. I took tiny, tiny steps towards him for what seemed like an eternity, all the time trying to maintain my I’m really mad at you, fear my wrath face. When I finally reached him about five minutes later, I forgot what I was going to say so I just sent him to class.
My skirt woes did not end there. I had a lot of copy books to bring to my car and one of the other teachers offered to carry them for me. As he helpfully loaded them into my car, we chit chatted about the day. As I opened the front door of my car, I realised that I could not get it without actually flopping in (like how I imagine a penguin jumps into water). So I just hung there, waiting for him to stop talking. And I waited. And waited. And then finally, he left.
As I launched my ass (literally) into my car and tried not to break my own ribs, I vowed to never, ever wear this skirt again. EVER. If I was Taylor Swift, I would be penning angry skirt breakup songs. Tomorrow, I’m going with the snuggie.