People are stupid...
But they cannnnn be entertaining. I love it when someone makes up a story about a medical problem to cover up for missing work or flaking out on something. This is especially entertaining when the person has been particularly flaky and is in need of a brand new story, having exhausted all the classics. The stories aren't nearly as funny as the looks on people's faces as they struggle to play along. Next time I'm forced to hear one, I'm going to say, "You should just quit this job and write fiction."
(Hell, may as well get paid for it.)
My kids All the kids in the school are wired to the gills, and there's no real way to fight the chaos at this point. Friday is the last day. Actually, it's a half day. We work until noon, then we go to a restaurant where I have been assured that the librarian will have too much wine and give us something to talk about for the next year. Can't wait for that. Anyway, most of my students took their final exams yesterday. Only one class will be testing today. They're the most difficult class I've got, and I don't have a clue what I'm going to do with them on Thursday or Friday. They're generally older than most of the other students, yet they're the ones who seem to be the most distractable by an impending holiday, or any little change in routine for that matter. They think they're grown, and they're much more interested in each other than in anything I have to say. I could go in there with the bitchinest lesson plan on the planet and they would give me their best You're a fucking idiot, Mrs. Ann look. The little punks have mastered that look. They are really pissing me off.
Two and a half days until the break.
Have I mentioned that my birthday is Sunday? I guess I'm getting too old to look forward to it. To be honest, I don't really look forward to it. I keep reminding myself of it so maybe it'll seem significant. Maybe if I don't make such a big deal out of it nobody will know how old I am, and next year I can say 29 again.
(Hell, may as well get paid for it.)
Two and a half days until the break.
Have I mentioned that my birthday is Sunday? I guess I'm getting too old to look forward to it. To be honest, I don't really look forward to it. I keep reminding myself of it so maybe it'll seem significant. Maybe if I don't make such a big deal out of it nobody will know how old I am, and next year I can say 29 again.
My birthday is the following Sunday. Once we get beyond a certain point (and I am WAY beyond that point), they're no fun. And, if you're like me, you never really feel like you have a birthday at all when it's that close to Christmas. Hard to compete with the fat guy in the red suit.
Posted by
Anonymous |
9:31 PM
'Tis the season. The season for freshmen to turn into buttwipes. Though I generally coexist peacefully with my students, I have one class that is on my last nerve. They want to joke with ME, but I'm not allowed to joke with them.
For example, one girl had a book bag that looked like a Pony Express pouch sitting on her desk. (No, I'm not that old to remember them in person). I walked by, and said, "My, that's a big purse you have." And she glared at me and said, "It's not a purse. It's a book bag!" And then she mumbled, "You're stupid." Oh, my dear, but not as stupid as one who does not get the joke.
Just yesterday, I was explaining a lab. I was actually holding a wooden ramp, and pointing to point A, where they would release a Hot Wheels car and measure the distance it traveled. I had referred them to the two-page lab report form, and told them, "Follow along as I go through the Procedure section." So this bad boy repeater was talking to a cheerleader quitter the whole time. And in the freakin' MIDDLE of my sentence, the CQ blurted out, "I have NO IDEA what we're doing."
Of course I had to stop and lecture her on how rude that was when I was RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF TELLING THEM WHAT THEY WERE DOING. And how it was written in numbered steps for any who were familiar with the English language. You can't let a good teaching moment like that get by you, you know.
Sorry for hijacking. I really oughta get my own blog, don't ya think?
Posted by
Hillbilly Mom |
10:06 PM
Hijack away, HM. I seem to remember having posted a few dozen pages of comments on a certain blog called Hillbilly Mansion over the years.
You gotta love it when they interrupt you giving the directions to proclaim that they don't know what's happening. And the implication seems to be that you're a shitty teacher, dontcha think? That really pisses me off.
DYank, I think the magical number after which birthdays cease to be fun is 21. Of course, when I was in the neighborhood of 22, 23, 24 I still had friends who took me out and got me drunk and made a halfway big deal about it, but it still didn't feel like a birthday to look forward to. There are few milestone birthdays beyond 21, and they're not the kind of milestones we want to hurry up and get to. I suppose I should still be enjoying them since I'm only turning 29, but I'm sort of sad because this is the last time I will turn 20-something.
Posted by
Mommy Needs a Xanax |
6:34 AM