Today was the funeral for the two birds found yesterday in the fuse box room.
We would've done it yesterday except the ground is frozen and we had no shovel.
The director called a store to ask about shovels and sent me with money to go buy one. The only guy working there looked me up and down and I made a motion of digging with a shovel. Side note: my charade-game has improved since becoming an English teacher. He knew immediately who I was since the director had only just called, and went to get the shovel.
During, gym class the director and I went to the rooftop garden to bury the birds. The problem was the box was by the fuse box room that could only be accessed through the library. Going to get the box would mean all the kids would see it. Yeah, bad idea.
Thankfully the other teacher had them engaged in a stretching exercise that took most of their attention. As per our standard stretch routine at one point we curl into an egg shape and ask the students what the egg will hatch into (inspired by this lesson for the older elementary students). Well, just as I was leaving, the egg hatched into a bird.
This was one of those "how did I get here?" moments: where something is just so weird that if you isolate that moment in your life you have to wonder "how did I get here?"
I was on a rooftop in Korea digging a grave for two pigeons as the director gave an informal eulogy.
Huh, high school guidance counsellors could never see this coming.
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