Overthunk

With any foray into a new work environment comes the gentle unraveling of the convoluted idiosyncrasies of every child of God with whom you interact. This year, I've moved to a new school, and it is so much more wonderful than I could've imagined in my old beat-dog place (as long as you don't mind slaving like an oarsman on a Viking longboat... but I guess if I did, I wouldn't have taken this job). With the exception of a few moments of stickiness with the assemblage of custodians over pencil shavings left by the 29, yes TWENTY-NINE, children I'm educating, everyone's been completely cordial. So much so, that it caused me to have to confront one of my own quirks: I'm not a name person. After about week two, I had met most everyone and remembered virtually no names. In an effort to help me, a charismatic teacher down the hall, by way of showing me how to better learn people's names, used mine every time she saw me: "Hello, V!" "I know