Be prepared. There are some very frightening photographs of me in this blog. Send the children to bed and cover your grandma’s eyes before you scroll down.
Soooo…you know how I have that job assessing people’s essays for a test prep class? The students write an essay, I tear it to tiny little shreds, send them weeping to their mamas, and then tell them to re-write it. Only do it better this time.
No, not really.
That’s what Bridgette (the person who hired me as an assessor) wants me to do. See, Bridgette lives in Brooklyn, New York, where she runs her test-prep business for teachers who are getting their certifications.
I live hundreds of miles south near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I will never see these students in my life. Never, ever. All my interactions with the students are via email.
Bridgette said that since she has to be within fist swinging distance from the tough New York City public school teachers, she gets to be Good Cop. And since I’m safe in my lair in PA, I have to be Bad Cop.
Only, I’m having a lot of trouble being Bad Cop. At heart, I’m a wimp. I can’t stand the thought of hurting someone’s feelings.
Part of my job as Bad Cop is to constantly get on the student’s cases, via email, for them to send me their essays. Bridgette says, “You tell them to send you those essays, now!” But I can’t do that. I do it this way:
Don’t forget to send me your essays! All the hard work you put into practice now will pay off on exam day.
Good Luck and kisses,
The Sweetest Essay Assessor Ever
Bridgette is not happy with this. So, she had to take matters into her own hands. She called me and said something along these lines:
“So, you finally got a bunch of essays on Friday. That’s because I told them in class on Thursday that you were really, really mad at them for not sending you the essays.”
“Oh yeah. And remember that group of students who wouldn’t send you the essays, so I took them from you and worked with them myself? Yeah, I told them that you were so mad that they didn’t do their essays that you kicked them out of your class!”
Somewhere in Brooklyn an entire mob of people think I’m the Wicked Witch of the South, fuming in Gettysburg, PA, and kicking them out of classes.
So, I had to make that the picture of the day.
Here is the real me:
I wear this outfit all day, every day. This is a picture of me making my Magic Cookies. I put the empty pan in the oven and use my Sugary Sweet Magic to wink the cookies into existence. Only super-duper sweet people (like me) have this kind of magic.
Here I am with some adorable woodland creatures who made their way into my home.. This picture was taken right after we finished our Cleaning Up song.
What’s that, little bunny? Awww! You’re my bestest friend, too!
And this is the Bridgette Version of me that she uses to terrorize her students:
If you don’t send me your essays, I’ll beat you with my Land of the Little Horses ruler! So, watch out!
Or, even worse, I’ll give you the stink eye!
Yes, the witch pictures are me. See: