The 78th Level of Dante's Inferno

Okay, naturally, I picked a number at random since I'm not sure how many levels Hell REALLY has. But I'm sure that on some days, I'm in one of them. Today's weather in the Instuctional-Pod-Compound (otherwise known as the trailer park at my school) is rain, rain, and more rain. Which wouldn't be so bad if there were awnings and an adequate sidewalk, but I have neither at my disposal. It's so laughable, it's humorous and ridiculous. I expect that anyday now, I'll have pneumonia as I must trudge out in the weather every 30 minutes to change groups. I hate it for my students too as their mothers didn't really expect them to have to go outside on this cold, rainy day. The single line of stepping stones leading to the trailer's front door is surrounded by a small pond and mostly immersed in mud. Before I leave the main building with each group of children, I must preface the trip with the following advice: "Please walk carefully on the stepping stones in front of my door, dear children. The mud puddle-boobie-trap is set and if you walk too fast or too heavy on the stones, mud will fly up to drench and permenantly stain your clothes." For 3, 4 and 5 year olds, this concept is difficult to grasp. All they want to do is run as fast as possible to stay out of the rain, hence all the muddy little pantlegs around the school. You always know a Special Ed. kid by the mud on his pants around here. It's heartbreaking really. Then, once the children have doffed their drenched little jackets and gotten settled, we begin what is loosely called 'therapy.' I say loosely because typically therapy requires a non-distracting environment, which this particular environment is not. It's hard to avoid distraction when there is merely a 3/4 partition between the 'therapy' room and a very active special education classroom. It can be difficult and trying to compete with a boistrous teacher and his band of brooding students. I would like to obtain a sound-level-meter to check decibel levels on some days. And let us not forget, the ongoing announcements throughout the day over the loudspeaker. It is a dizzying, never-ending parade of interruption. It's no wonder many of my students just aren't making all that much progress. Is it not criminal? Children with special needs deserve so much more. Not exactly how I pictured my career when I walked across the stage at Appalachian State University to receive my Master's Degree.
I have also given up on the futile attempts to park anywhere near my instructional-pod. The parking area (again, I use that term loosely as well) is merely a mudbog that hasn't seen gravel since I was a child here at this school. Although I do drive a LandRover, I would prefer to keep my vehicle as clean as possible until such time for rooting by choice occurs (this isn't it). At 3:45, you should see all the tire spinning and flying mud which occurs around these parts. I regret, today, that I don't have my smartphone to take a photo of the walkway to my instructional-pod, which is more like World 6 of Super Mario Brothers on days like this. Rain, rain and more rain.