DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

This morning I actually had my assistant in the classroom for 1st and 2nd periods, which has only happened one other time since Christmas. They pull her and make her substitute for someone every single day. Anyway, I was glad to have her, because my lesson plan today included some activities that I knew she could help with.

So we're bopping along, things are going well, and only one kid is absent so I'm thinking how fortunate it is that everyone's getting this crucial lesson. The one absentee child happened to be the son of the woman who broke out the recording equipment when I called to tell her he was disrupting my class. You remember. She put me on hold while she rumbled through her house the hotel room they live in looking for her recording equipment, then got back on the phone, announced that I was being recorded, and asked me to proceed with what I was going to say. She's crazy. Certifiable. We hate to see her psycho ass coming.

Anyway, we're doing our teacher thing and then Mrs. D leans over and whispers, "Absentee and his mom are coming down the sidewalk." A few minutes later, crazy mom walks in with her older teenaged daughter and absentee son in tow. She's carrying two bulky bags and a very big silver briefcase. She presents a visitor's pass and says she's there to observe the class. F*cking fantastic.

She and her daughter sit down, and I continue teaching what I was teaching while Mrs. D goes to help Absentee get up to speed on what we're doing.

Crazy momma starts digging through her bags and her briefcase. She breaks out a bunch of audio recording equipment, and starts setting it up! What. Tha. FOCK!? I was trying to keep focused on what I was doing and not pay any attention to her, because I knew if my students noticed what she was doing I'd lose them, and if I lost them she'd have a nice show for her audio project.

Anyway, crazy momma struggled with her equipment for a while, but apparently couldn't get it to work, so she broke out a laptop and started typing feverishly. Daughter kicked back in her chair and sent text messages nonstop. Both crazy momma and daughter came and went as they pleased. They each got up and walked out and came back in several times in the two periods. (It's a double class.)

When the bell rings for the end of 1st period, I let my kids go to the bathroom and stretch their legs even though they're coming right back to me for 2nd period. During those three minutes, I have duty. I have to stand outside and say "Go to class please" or "Don't push him" or "Tuck your shirt in" over and over again. Crazy momma followed me out there and stood so close to me that our arms were touching. I moved over and she moved over closer again. It was weird.

When the kids came back in for 2nd period, they realized crazy momma was doing crazy things, and they got a little distracted. The transition from 1st to 2nd periods is always touchy, but it was rough today BECAUSE OF HER DUMB ASS. While I was getting something from behind my desk, a female child apparently smacked a male student in the back of the head. Male student probably hit her first, and even if he didn't he deserves to be smacked in the head at least once a day just because he's a punk. Anyway, I only saw female student, because she was out of her seat. I told her to step outside. She didn't. I raised my voice and told her again. She went out into the hallway. I grabbed a detention slip with which to threaten female student.

Crazy momma piped in-- "They both need one! You need to get them both!"

Um, no bitch. NO. You can come into my room and disrupt it if the administration is stupid enough to allow it, but I'll be damned if you're going to decide how I handle my shit.

At least that's what I said to her inside my head. I just looked at her like she was crazy and went about my business as normal. Stupid woman.

Can you even imagine the fucking gall of someone who would walk into a classroom and set up a bunch of damn recording equipment, or take out a laptop, or sit there and send text messages, or get up and go in and out the door during the class-- much less someone who comes in and does all of the above? UGH!

Fortunately, the principal happened to come through while she was in there. He stayed for the remainder of the class, and I don't think he was happy with the situation. Maybe it'll never happen again.

I can only hope.

Can you imagine being her son? Having your mom follow you around junior high all day on a conspiracy theory hunch?

P.S.
About yesterday's picture of the Mexicans downtown, I can't believe nobody noticed THE FREAKING CHICKENS! Am I the only one who finds it funny that they're raising chickens in downtown Hattiesburg?

Labels: parents, teacher life, the kids are all right (but the parents need a good ass whuppin)

My three day weekend is nearing its end. I got back home tonight around 5:45, and worked in the house for over an hour before my butt ever hit a chair.

My windshield was covered with love bugs and their vision-blocking innards, so my first task was to squeegie bug guts off the car. After that, I tended to some puppies who were in serious need of some love, and took care of the cat, who was pissed about his empty food bowl. Once the mess makers were satisfied, I had a mess or three to clean up. Specifically, the pile of dishes in the sink, the unidentified sticky substance that has adorned our kitchen floor for the past week, and the mysterious film of funk that covered the counter tops. And the crumbs on the table. It's a miracle we don't have roaches.

Yet.

The visit was nice. I got to see my grandmother, and that's always a pleasure even though it requires me to be in the same room with Aunt C and to breathe in dog piss fumes for the duration of the visit. There's so much ammonia de dog piss in that house it'd probably kill them if they opened a jug of bleach. But there's no need to worry about that ever happening.

My mother had a Beauti Control party on Saturday. Nobody showed up except for me and my sister and one of my sister's penniless friends-- unless you count one of my aunts and a cousin, but they're Beauti Control cult members and were only there to help my mom. This means that I was the only person there who had any money. Believe me, they knew it. I alternated between a cushy recliner and the cold, porcelain throne (more on that in a minute) while my cousin gave me a never-ending string of different things to smear on and then wipe off of my face, hands, and feet.

To be honest, all that "spa" crap kinda bothers me. It doesn't make me feel pampered, and I can't tell that my skin is any more glowing or supple or wrinkle free than it was before, nor do I believe that any of the people who use it have that experience. Call me silly, but I say if a lotion heats up the second you put it on your skin, it's NOT because it contains a rare, skin-friendly derivative of something or other from a tree in the rain forest somewhere. Even if it's called "New Rain" or some such bulls**t. No, I'm thinkin' it's got a bunch of chemicals in it that I can't pronounce, and one of them is gonna give me cancer in twenty years.

Regardless of what the secret ingredient of the warming lotion was, I declined to buy it but still ended up spending more than I wanted to spend for other (non-warming) things that I didn't really absolutely truly desperately have to have. I was especially sensitive to the amount of money I was spending because it came less than 24 hours after I wrote a check to Best Buy for a new laptop.

Here's the best part of the whole makeup selling get-together-- I developed a sudden case of explosive diarrhea THE EXACT MOMENT my cousin and aunt turned into the driveway. Do you recall my earliest blog posts? The ones in which I described to you the inconvenient close-to-everything location of the one and only bathroom in my parents' house, and the undesirable acoustical consequences of said centrally located toilet??

My mother gave me a pill of some sort which stopped my..uh..symptoms. Temporarily, at least. It hit me again just a few minutes ago. I don't know what the deal is. I'm just glad I was symptom-free during the five hour drive home, and I hope that it's over before my first class shows up in the morning. Keeping a classroom of teenagers on task is hard enough to do without holding your butt cheeks clenched the entire time.

Speaking of tomorrow morning, I've got lesson plans to finish.

Labels: Aunt C, explosive diarrhea, parents