Zippers afraid of heights, Shoes that don't match, Unsent Letters, and God damn Jeter

I'd never worn my oxymoronic black khakis before, as they were a recent pickup for $4 at the thrift shop, so the unfamiliar way they fit around my crotch was expected. However, as I led a discussion about Of Mice and Men about thirty minutes into first period, I subtly ran my finger underneath my belt and realized one of my worst classroom fears: I had been teaching with my fly down. None of the kids noticed, hopefully, so I put my diet pepsi and notes in my left hand and covered the offending area when I discovered that zipping it up could not be done without notice. That wouldn't work forever, so I - without any explanation at all - went to my desk and sat down, continuing to lecture as I spun around, zipped my pants, and continued on my class period. Catastrophe averted, done with subtle grace.

I lived in my state of relief until 3rd period when Tanisha - my brilliant, very pregnant, 15-year old student with a 96% average in my class - called me over, and whispered in my ear, "Uh, Mr. E, did you know that your shoes don't match?" Immediately I laughed and denied it, until I foolishly looked down and realized that the only thing that my two shoes had in common were that they were black. Of course they didn't match. Tanisha smiled sweetly at me and a few other kids picked up on what was happening, until it got to the point where students all afternoon were visiting my classroom and asking to see.

I spent part of my 6th period planning writing a letter of resignation for the restaurant. It said all the right things - that I've enjoyed my time at the restaurant, but that my schedule this year, with my graduate course, with my two new classes, and my huge student load (173) - it was impossible to keep the second job. I printed it out, signed it, and went into work tonight... and didn't give it to anyone.

You see, my boss wasn't there, but I think he knew that I was upset about working for no money, because he left a six-pack for me for no reason at all. Not only that, though, Bobby called and said that he's coming home tomorrow because his Psych prof is requiring the purchase of three new supplementary texts and they're going to cost $130. He's asking for whatever I can spare, but I think I'm going to give it all to him. If I don't, who will? That, coupled with my third-to-last car payment bill that I received today in the mail, made me realize that it would be foolish to quit right now. So I left a note on the board saying, "Please, no more weekdays... they are killing me" and will hope they do with it what they will.

I will have some major shit to take tomorrow from my colleagues, most of whom swore that I wouldn't have the guts to do it. I guess they were right. But I think I have good reasons.

I did hardly anything during my shift - which was a barista shift, not a server shift - except listen to baseball and grade papers. I made $12, plus the Manager Pay Rate I'm making, and got a couple of free meals and a free six pack out of the deal. As for the baseball game, I listened to most of it (although I do blame myself for the 5-run third inning, as I wasn't listening at that point yet), and made it home in time to see the sorry last two innings.

I was really hoping to take game 1, but it wasn't meant to be. Hopefully, we can turn it around tomorrow. In other news, I hate Yankees fans and I hate Derek Jeter.