On Christmas Eve, I contracted a respiratory virus, which held on through last week. For five days, I coughed, gasped, hacked and borderline gagged in front of my kids. I received varied responses, including:
"Miz Nilknarf! You're scaring me!"
"I'm gonna pray for you, Miz Nilknarf!"
"You're gonna make us all sick!"
"Go get some water!"
"You better go to the doctor, Miz Nilknarf, and I want you to call me afterwards and tell me what's wrong with you!"
The verdict? Pneumonia and bronchitis. I am torn between berating myself for my stupidity and feeling like Super Teacher because I taught for a week with an illness that by all rights should have landed me in the hospital. After a weekend in bed, I decided to take Monday off. Then came Tuesday. I was praying for a snow day. The forecast looked less and less promising, but I hoped for a two hour delay.
I was rewarded with a 6:00 a.m. automated phone call, informing me that the county would start two hours late, but that would be evaluated at 7:00 a.m. 6:45, I got another phone call saying they weregoing with two hours late. Reluctantly, I got up, showered and dressed for work. I was sweaty and out of breath, but took comfort in the shortened day.
I scraped the ice off my car, set Sirius to Howard Stern (this really gets me in the right frame of mind for a day at my school) and off I went, slipping and sliding through the neighborhood. Half way to school, I get the call that schools will be closed all day. It was a true Festivus Miracle!