This may come as a complete surprise to some of you, but I am a bit of a hypochondriac. Loosley defined, this means that I am terrified of sharp inanimate objects, most living organisms, anyone wearing a white lab coat, and pretty much everything invisible to the naked eye that can be inhaled, exhaled, and/or absorbed through the skin.

Other than that, I’m just like you.

So most of the time it’s manageable and really, I don’t think it affects anyone in a negative way (Shut up Husband, Sister, Mom, Dad, Children, Grandma, Best Friend, Doctor, Pharmacist, CoWorkers, Cat, LadyInLineAtTheGroceryStore).

But sometimes, my fear gets the best of me and I start getting a little anxious and my loved ones flee in opposite directions until the “all clear” alarm sounds many many hours later. Because really I’ve been told that I can be a bit unpleasant and sort of frightening when consumed by what others deem to be “irrational” fears (Hey. That cramp in my thigh so could have been the beginning stages of a brain tumor).

Usually I can calm myself down pretty good and lately it doesn’t even involve copious amounts of Psych Ward Grade tranquilizers (because I ran out) and dareth I say that recently I even resemble someone with just a slight nervous disorder rather than the second half of the DSM IV (the first half is mostly foreward, preface, copyright, acknowledgment crap anyway).

Which brings me to my next point. That book is heavy!

Now only the good Lord knows why I went into teaching, since according to most articles written by people who obviously know what they are talking about and who work for such highly renowned publications as STAR, STAR WEEKLY, WEEK of STARS and, we have the most filthy job (second only to those girls on the Vegas strip, though now that I think about it that may not be the same definition of the word “filthy.”) ever and come across every germ known to mankind. Don’t even get me started on the Pink Eye Crisis of 2008.

So becoming a teacher was obviously a premeditated act on my part in order to combat my fears by using a well known behavioral modification technique known as “desensitization” (I sooo have not been in therapy for the greater part of my adult life) or I had no idea that my classroom would be a giant petri dish of grossness and now it’s too late to change careers because I’m not qualified to do much else and really what would I do with all of those flashcards anyway?

But the issue at hand here folks is that we are in the midst of an outbreak and rumor has it that the CDC has NO idea what’s going on (a government-run agency, uninformed and confused???? What’s next?? Long lines at the DMV???) and so I have to take matters into my own hands and warn you all that the Swine Flu is coming and I don’t know about you but that sounds like just the thing to pop up and fester in a sweet and innocent kindergarten classroom.

So I beg you people.

Keep your germ-infested, snot-dripping, open-mouthed-coughing, marker-sucking, adorable kiddos away from me. Because if you don’t, I will teach them the alphabet in Polish instead of English and also throw in some curse words which will come in handy when they are shipped off to Eastern Europe (the crappy part, not the the nice cobblestoned part) to work in a vodka distillary for failing Kindergarten.

I hope you understand.


Now excuse me. I have a phone call to make.

“……………911, what’s your emergency……”

“um…there’s this tickle in my throat and………………………….”

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2 Replies to “"Oink"”

  1. You are freakin' hysterical – and now I know why I will always have love for you… because that occasional twitch in my leg is the beginnings of deep vein thrombosis, that can kill me instantly without warning… you may have the brain cancer but I know that heart palpitation I feel after the gym is a heart attack at my "heh hem" young thirty something age….is hypochondria a Polish thing – or did I just inherit 100 times worst from my Polish mother?

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