It's The Classic Bait and Switch
I got an unwelcome surprise at Pilates this morning; my instructor has been replaced with an inferior model. Or, actually, the inferior model was the original instructor and I have spent the past eight weeks under the tutelage of her temporary replacement. Had I known that when I started the program, I wouldn't have let myself get so attached to the woman I thought was the permanent instructor. As it is, I feel like the victim of a con-they drew me in with promises of an instructor who makes me want to cry for my momma and then switched her for an instructor who...doesn't make me want to cry for my momma.
I should also mention that the new/old instructor was on sabbatical...having her hip replaced.
That's right; I'm now taking a Pilates class instructed by a woman with a bionic hip and she still can't make me weep. Either I have gotten a hell of a lot stronger than I thought or the instruction is less than intense and I think I've covered that subject, see above: Not weeping.
Still making me want to cry, however, is the baseball program. No, really? Yes, really. Tonight we have player evaluations to determine which kids to move up to the next level in order to even out the younger team. The president of the league has wisely decided to hold an actual meeting of the parents (I know! What a concept; who could have possibly suggested that weeks and weeks ago?) to explain the situation and to address any questions or concerns they may have as well as to try to convince them to play nice.
I don't hold out much hope but, I'm certain the kids will pull them all apart should things get ugly.