Rah Rah Girls

Well, it's official. I did something terrible in a previous life and I am currently being punished in this one. I am the Booster Sponsor for the pep squad at the high school where I teach.
I've been teaching for eleven years and was the yearbook sponsor for eight of those years and spent two years as the seventh grade class sponsor at the inner city school with the reputation as the worst school in the parish. The school wasn't that bad and the children were by no means bad enough to earn that label. Changes in administrations both at the school and "downtown" helped create an uncomfortable situation that was trying at best for learning, but I digress.
Any ways, at my new school , which by the way, I love, I am the Booster Sponsor. It is my job to see to 36 young ladies' (they don't like be called girls, but one day ten years down the line they'll dream of someone calling them girls.) needs; wants; marching skills; dancing abilities; hair emergency needs; uniform fits (too tight, too loose, too long, but never too short); shoe locations (never where they're supposed to be); football player adoptions; basketball player adoptions; regular boyfriend adoption jealousy issues; and any and all other drama events. Oh man, I'm tired.
I think when I thought about my mid to late forties, I hadn't planned to be on a school bus with 37 screaming, singing, giggling, crying, girls on an extremely old and suspiously sounding school bus tearing through the dark Louisiana night on our way to a football game in a town I can't pronounce and it shows no bars on my cell phone.
Wish me luck. I'm getting old and I don't know if I can adapt enough to set up house at the new football field, but I just know my boosters will be beautifully dressed, marching proudly with their heads held high and their boobs thrust out catching the eye of every football player on field. We can only hope it's our team's eyes their catching. Yeah Rah!