When you read this,

I might very well be in the second or even third hour of Sophie's IEP, or Individualized Education Plan. In lieu of feeling the usual butterflies and nausea (this seems to be a theme this week) because this is our 13th annual IEP, I have decided to rename the acronym to what it might better signify. That way, those of you who think of the IEP as one of the wonders of the education movement -- how do those kids get educated? you might think -- and those of you who, like me, have participated in this oft-hellish few hours of a day might be amused.

Because I'm telling you, the old sense of humor, bitter and dark, is what sustains me, at least, 90% of the time with 100% consistency. (That, too, is a joke that only the insiders will understand. Please let me know if you do.)

The IEP, or Individualized Ecmnesia Plan (the definition of ecmnesia is loss of memory of the events of a specific period)

Amnesia by Dominic Piperata

OR

The IEP, the Individualized Ecorche Plan (the definition of ecorche is a human figure portrayed stripped of the skin)

OR

The IEP, the Individualized Emberlucock Plan (the definition of emberlucock is to confuse, to bewilder)

is an ass-kicker in every way, no matter how many years I've been doing it.

We must remember this: