DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

Today at work I was thinking about how trying to get through end-of-the-year checkout is like an obstacle course and what a great blog post I could write about it, only to come home and find that Hillbilly Mom has already compared it to a scavenger hunt. Maybe it is more like a scavenger hunt than an obstacle course. Damn you, hillbilly. Stealing my thunder.

Oh well. I'll just tell you about my experiences with the scavenger hunt obstacle course.

The objective is to get signatures on each section of your checkout sheet. A different person is responsible for making sure you've done each thing. For example, one assistant principal signs off to say that I've turned in my gradebook, lesson plans, faculty handbook, and textbook inventory sheet. Another assistant principal verifies that I've turned in my room keys, cleaned the room, and removed all personal belongings. Signatures are also required from people like the librarian, the evil book keeper lady, and the counselors. The final signature-- the big one-- is the principal. He signs to say that you've completed checkout, and that is when you are free to leave.

I got to work at 6:55 this morning with the idea that I would hit the library early and print out everything that had to go in my gradebook. We have an electronic gradebook online which works perfectly fine, but we also have to have a hard copy of everything. Because not requiring us to have a hard copy would eliminate a task from our busy days, and that's not acceptable. I also needed to turn in my school issued laptop and get a signature from the librarian, but my big plan was foiled from the start.

First, nobody arrived to unlock the building until nearly 7:30, so I sat on the front step for over half an hour beating fire ants off my exposed ankles and getting angrier by the minute. Someone is supposed to be there at 7:00. By the time I got to my room, I was only about 15 minutes early. I could've slept!! Then the librarian didn't arrive until 8:00, and the kids were coming in by that time so I didn't get the chance to print out what I needed (my printer has been out of toner for six months) or turn in my computer.

Having the kids there was such a joke. At first, I made an attempt to make sure my kids were in my room and not wondering around, even though they kept asking permission to go to this teacher's room or that teacher's room. I let them go turn in their books, but made them come back. Meanwhile, other kids came to ask if they could stay in my room. The answer was NO. I had too much to do, and the fewer kids I had, the better. A few kids came to me with notes from various teachers saying it was okay for them to stay in their rooms, so I let them. Like I said, fewer kids = good.

The anal retentive principal actually walked the campus and bitched at kids for not having their shirts tucked in, for eating chips and candy, etc. At one point he said, "I can't believe this. It's like I have to do my job at the teachers' jobs too" or words to that effect. (I don't listen to him anymore.) I smiled and agreed it was outrageous, but in my head I was fantasizing about telling him to pull the corn cob out of his nether regions. It's the last day of school. It was like he wanted us to have them seated in straight rows with their shirts perfectly tucked in.

I kept about 5 of my kids with me and we finished moving my stuff to my new storage room. I sent them on various errands while I tracked down a couple of signatures and finally got my printouts for the gradebook. The kids left at 12:00, and then the real games began because everyone was more mobile. Every time I thought I had completed the requirements for one signature, I would find little details that I had missed along the way, and I would have to go back and tie up loose ends before I could ask them to sign. Once I did have things done the right way, everyone had started moving around campus and it was impossible to track them down. I chased one assistant principal across campus three times before I finally tracked him down, and then he told me he would meet me in my room-- and THEN he forGOT and he got away again! Argh!

I thought I was ahead of most people on this checkout process, but most of them somehow finished before I did. My biggest obstacle was the train wreck that was my classroom. The janitor hasn't mopped the floor all year, and the word "nasty" doesn't come close to describing the floors. They looked like we had held some sort of mud wrestling event in there at some point and never finished cleaning up. I knew they were dirty, but once everything was off of them it was easier to see how bad it was. And there was dust everywhere. And I'm not the most organized person, so even after everything was supposedly packed up, I was finding things that needed to go in my closet, or in my car, or where ever. I finally ran out of energy and just started throwing stuff out. Screw it.

Having finally acquired all the signatures I needed except the principal's, I headed to the front office to get the final stamp of approval to go home. My loaded-down car was right outside the door, ready to carry me into summer, but when I got to the office I discovered that the principal had taken a long lunch with the secretaries. They would be back at 3:00, someone said.

I checked the clock. It was 2:30. F*ck it. I put my checkout sheet in his box and hit the road. I thought I would call back after 3:00 and make sure it was okay, but as soon as I got home I fell asleep for three hours. They can fire me Monday if they want. As uptight as he is, I wouldn't be surprised if I do hear about it at some point.

Oh well. It's summer!!!

Labels: teacher life

Yesterday may have been the greatest clusterfuck of all time. We were scheduled for the last day of testing, and it was the math test. For you non-teachers, the distribution of testing materials is a pain, but on math day it's even worse. This is because all testing materials are "secure," and each teacher has to stand in the little vault and count each individual item and sign for them. On math day it's worse because there are more items: calculators, rulers, formula charts, etc. (Why do they get to use all that stuff, anyway!?) So it took a while for all 40+ teachers to get their materials checked out and back to the rooms.

It was getting very close to time to start. I had all my students seated where I wanted them, had taken up all their personal belongings, had threatened their lives if they didn't hand over their cell phones, and had even handed out the pencils. I was just waiting for the green light to start testing. The intercom clicked, and we all waited to hear the go ahead. Instead, we heard, "Attention students and teachers. This announcement is very important, so please listen closely. We have just received word from the central office in Jackson that we will not be allowed to test today due to the weather that is on its way here. Testing is postponed until tomorrow. Please gather your testing materials and come check them back in."

Arrrrrrrrrrgghhhhhhh.

Checking test materials back in is the exact same as checking them out. You have to count everything. So basically, the proctors, who are made up of volunteers in the community who generally have NO experience in dealing with students, were left alone in the classes with the kids for 15-30 minutes while the teachers went to check the stuff back in. I was back to my room in 20 minutes, but I wasn't worried about my proctor. She subs all the time and can handle them as well as any teacher. Still, I hear all hell broke loose in one or two rooms. What did they expect? It really could have been worse.

Now with the test postponed until tomorrow (today) the kids were upset because they had been promised a May Day today. It's postponed until next week, which should be better for them since it might rain again today, but you can't tell a 14 year old anything. Also, the teachers were all planning to spend 1st through 4th periods testing. So now every teacher is trying to pull something together at the last minute.

I decided we'd have Mercy Day. This means that all the people who are failing either for this term or for the year (and there are a lot of them) would have a chance to complete some work for major extra points. It was worth 120 free daily points PLUS a test grade of up to 100. They had to do six English assignments, but they weren't that hard. Most of the kids finished it in the two hours they were with me. Well, except for the class that spent an hour on the floor during the TORNADO WARNING.

Yeah. My 1st period class came in at 8:30. We went through the hurrah of the cancelled test. Second period was late getting started, but it didn't matter because all mine come back to me for 2nd period too. Mere seconds into 2nd period, we're told to line up on the floors against the wall because there is a tornado warning.

The kids don't take this seriously enough. They don't understand that a warning means a tornado has been spotted in the area. Everything is a damn joke to them. I had to scream at the top of my lungs to get them to fcking MOVE. They were actually arguing with me and refusing to get on the damn ground! Unreal. Then they wouldn't really get in the right position, which I'm thinking they MUST have been taught from kindergarten on, and they spent the entire time bitching about having to be in the floor. There are worse things in life, people. I couldn't believe what an ordeal it was to be in a tornado warning with that bunch, and we were down there for over an hour.

This is my hell. Yes, if I died and went to hell, it would be me with that particular group of kids in a tornado warning for eternity.

Once the weather threat had passed, they moved on the 3rd period, which is my planning period. There were only 30 minutes left of 3rd period, but at least I got some kind of break. It's the first time this week I've actually had a planning period, because testing usually goes through 4th, and instead of trying to be fair and have the kids return to a different class each day, they have been sending them straight to 4th period after testing.

The rest of the day dragged on. I showed a video in my 6th and 7th periods. Today I think they will have Mercy Day, but fewer of them need it, so I'm not sure how it's gonna go.

When the last kid finally dragged out of my class at 4:00, I was thinking the day was over. I had completely forgotten about my nephew's high school graduation. Tim had to work, so I had to go alone to make sure our little corner of the family was represented. They live about 50 miles from here, so I had zero time to relax after work. I freshened up, changed clothes, and hit the road. Then I spent 90 minutes in a HOT gym just waiting for the thing to start. That's how early you have to be to a graduation in a small town, because everyone goes whether they have family graduating or not. The thing just dragged on, but we got the boy graduated, then there was the family get-together/party afterwards. I was the first person to leave, and I was still there until 10:00. It was close to 11:00 when I finally made it home.

Even when I got here, it seemed like there was no chance to sit down for an hour or so. Things just had to be done, and they were urgent. For a fleeting moment I thought It won't stop-- where does this day END? And then it occured to me that this is a drop in the bucket compared to what must be in store. I guess I'd better get used to it.

Funny. I had a similar thought in the ER Wednesday night when they were jabbing tubes into my various holes.

Labels: family, Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', it's my pity party and I'll bitch if I want to, professional screw-ups, teacher life

The parents are coming! The parents are coming! Okay, so are the progress reports, but..but.. the parents are coming!!!

Mom mentioned a few weeks ago that they might be coming down "sometime in May." My dad's got a work thing in Meridian, and they're going to come down here after that's over and spend the night. Tonight I talked to my dad, and it's a good thing I called because he said it's actually May 2nd, which is next weekend. As in one week from today.

I was thinking it would be after I was done with work. Stupid of me, obviously, since work ends May 23 and they said "Sometime in May." Odds are I would still be working, huh? I guess to teachers the word "May" just evokes all kinds of positive imagery. Even though it's probably the hardest month of work, what with the testing and the paperwork and the calling of parents who have been oblivious until now and the packing up of the room and the restless students and increased number of office referrals.

Moving out of my classroom for the summer will not be unlike moving out of a dorm room for the summer. I've got a lot of stuff in there, including a mini fridge. A mini fridge that I traded a watch for during my first semester of juco in 1997. I didn't go to class much, so I didn't need the watch. The mini fridge has served me for 11 years and counting. So you tell me which was the better deal. Hmmmmmmm??

Anyway my point is that it's busy at work now. Busy busy. I've actually had to work nonstop during my planning periods, which is something I routinely avoid, and I'm still not getting it done.

I gave out the last progress reports of the year today. They were due to go out yesterday, but I intentionally put them off so that I could have time to grade their most recent tests, which they failed. I wanted those horrible scores to be included so the progress report would reflect a lower, more realistic average than if I just tallied up all their daily grades. The last thing I need is pissed off mommas coming up here on the last day of school demanding to know how their angels could have failed when they had a B or a C at mid term.

Giving out progress reports is not fun. I hate it. Let me tell you why.

When I give an assignment, several people invariably decide not to worry about it. This is particularly true of homework. There have been many, many times when I took up a homework assignment and only got it back from 3 kids in a class of 18. It goes something like this:

Okay so are there any other questions about the bell ringer? Good. Now please pass it in and then take out your homework.

What homework?!?!? (OUTRAGED!)

Yeah what homework?!

That woman dint give us no homework!

[sigh] You were supposed to write two cause and effect sentences.

[blank stares] Oh I ain't do it.
I left mines in my math room.
Mine's in my binder somewhere but I can't find it.
Mine is on my auntie's computer because I left my jump drive there.
Mine's in my little brother's folder.
What are cause and effect sentences??

Pass it in, or don't. It's due. If you don't have it, please sign a sheet of paper saying why you don't have it.
Can I bring it tomorrow?
What's the policy that we've used all year?
I can bring it tomorrow but not after tomorrow.
Okay then. Any other questions?

So I preach. I warn them that if it's not turned in the following day, it's a zero. I explain to them, for the nine millionth time, that homework is designed to prepare them for tests and other things they need to be ready for. I remind them that a zero is extremely difficult to overcome. I beg. I plead. I warn. Then the next day I usually ask them about it (but not always.) "Johnny, do you have that homework from yesterday?" "What homework?" "Cause and effect sentences." "Oh. No." "Okay, well it's a zero then."

Fast forward to progress report day. I stand in front of the room, reports in hand, and give the following speech:

I'm going to give you your progress reports. If you feel that there is a problem with one of your grades, please keep it to yourself for now. You can come to me during a break or before school and we will take a look at it.

So I hand them out. And every. time. the. same. kids. insist. that I am on some kind of mission to replace their well-earned 100's with zeros. They would be honor roll students if only they could figure out a way to prove that I am sabotaging them!

Mrs. Ann! What's this assignment? (pointing to a zero.)
That's the cause and effect sentences you were supposed to do for homework on March 14th.
[blank stare] Cause and effect sentences?
Yes.
Oh! I did that!
Really? Cause two seconds ago you didn't know what I was talking about.
Yeah but I did it and I turned it in to you!
No you didn't. [Thinking but not saying]: You couldn't write two cause and effect sentences right now if I told you to, cause you've never done it and didn't pay attention in class when I talked about it.
[smacking lips and twisting around all frustrated like] I know I did!

Now, I used to get nervous when this would happen. I would think Shit what if I lost that kid's homework! I can't remember if he did it! Maybe he did do it and turn it in and I never graded it! I would promise to "double check" and make sure I didn't have it. No more. If I show any doubt whatsoever, it only gives them more steam for their "I swear to God I did it" lie. NOW the response is like this:

No, you didn't. Just admit it. You didn't. I begged you, warned you, reminded you, and you didn't do it.
Yes, I--
End of discussion.

Maybe for dramatic effect I go to the board and write one or more of the following:

Cause and effect examples:

1. If you don't do your homework, you don't get a grade.
2. Because Sally didn't do her homework, she received a grade of zero.
3. Johnny didn't listen in class, so he didn't know he had homework. Since he didn't know he had homework, he got a zero.
4. Jack is not very mature, so he can not accept blame for his own actions. 5. Since Jack can't accept responsibility for his actions, he blames his problems on his teacher.

Of course you draw arrows to the causes and write "CAUSE" and arrows to the effects and write "EFFECTS." Cause I'm a bitch like that. You know, when I'm not busy chasing down fat white rabbits.

Those sheets of paper I make them sign explaining why their homework is not done would be nice to have in hand for those yes I did no you didn't yes I did no you didn't chats, but I never can get them filed. I've got a pile of student work three feet high that probably isn't going to make it into their folders at all. I will have to fix my filing problem next year, but I don't know how.

And that is why giving out progress reports is a drag.

Labels: teacher life

There are several impending meetings that are making me want to crawl back into bed instead of going to work today. One is with a bully parent, and I'm not sure why the meeting was set up considering that we had a conversation just two weeks ago and I answered all her questions then. Sometimes these people think they can get you in front of your boss and get the upper hand or something. (Silly parents, the boss is almost never there, and the counselor is on my side.)

The other is with another parent who is even less sane-- seriously NOT sane, in fact. I have lots of those. It's a perk that comes with the job of teaching the slow kids. I think it has something to do with how far the apple doesn't fall from the tree.

The third meeting is with the principal, who stopped me in a hallway yesterday and said he needs to meet with me the first chance we get. He didn't say why, but since then I've heard that they're giving out the annual teacher evaluations. He hasn't met with 100% of the teachers, but he's meeting with certain ones. At first I thought he must only be meeting with the ones he needs to bitch at about something, or the people they don't want to hire back. But they met with another English teacher who I know for a fact is top notch. I can't imagine they had very many negative things to say about her. That makes me feel better, but I'm still putting my money on me getting bitched at. Fine. As long as they don't tell me they're not renewing my contract, I don't care what they say. If they DO tell me they're not renewing my contract, I won't be the only one to have a bad day. Considering the way I work for these jackholes and the way they treat us-- if they gave me a notice of non-renewal, I might hafta let 'em know a few things. Sheesh. I can get worked up just thinking about the nerve it would take for them to do that. I'm probably going to leave that meeting in a bad mood anyway, because there's no way he's NOT going to criticize me about something. And when you put up with what I put up with (from the apathetic students AND the anal retentive administration AND the multitudes of crazy parents) it's hard to take criticism without feeling like it's a little unjustified.

Thanks to the mass numbers of retiring baby boomers, I've got a job possibility at a much better place next year. I should stress the word possibility, because that's all it is. Just a door that appears to be cracked open. I wasn't planning on changing jobs with a baby on the way, but this one came to me, so I'm gonna follow through on it and see what develops. Probably nothing, but it would be stupid for me not to pursue it. IF it worked out, it would be the opportunity to teach in a Level 5 school with a fabulous reputation. I might even have some students who want to learn.

It might mean I'd have the chance to actually TEACH, and to be honest, I am either going to find a place that wants a teacher, or I'm going to find another profession, because I can't spend much longer doing what I'm doing. I give a homework assignment and two kids do it. Then they fail the test and who gets blamed? I call a parent for support, and what happens? They break out a voice recorder and aluminum foil and start talking about how the aliens gave their child an F. Or they seem to understand what I'm saying and want to offer support, but two weeks later they call the front office with some outlandish accusation against me. These people listen to their kids. The kid gets in a little hot water at home, and makes up a story about the teacher. Momma sides with the kid. It's scary when you think about it. I've already been accused of calling kids names and cursing at them; what else might I be accused of if I had a child or parent with just the right brand of crazy? What if someone accuses me of something illegal, like some kind of abuse? Or what if someone accuses me of using a racial slur? I'd be screwed.

Not only am I not helping anyone, but I'm risking my own neck and giving myself gray hair. I want out.

When Little Wendol gets here, I will always agree with his/her teacher in front of him/her. I may hate that bitch's guts, and Tim and I may come back here behind a closed door and talk about what a dirty whore she is, but when Little Wendol is listening we'll be in support of the teacher. Little Wendol will do what she says whether I agree with it or not, provided it's not something totally out of line. It's called respecting authority. You have to respect the position of authority whether you like the individual or not. And if Teacher calls home and says Little Wendol isn't doing what he's supposed to be doing, Little Wendol will be the one getting confronted-- not the teacher. If When he tries to shift the blame to Teacher, I'm calling him on it. Bullshit, Little Wendol. The teacher can't make your decisions for you. Even if she does have it out for you, you have to deal with it and do what you're supposed to do.

And them's my 2 cents on THAT.

So. I'm off.

Labels: Paranoia, teacher life

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)

I'm a SuperTeacher. You didn't know? I can teach three weeks' worth of new material to unmotivated low achievers in one week while simultaneously reviewing 21 weeks' worth of old material, reteaching and retesting last week's material, and fitting in the required one day of small groups per week and 20 minutes of reading per day.

I can outline every last detail of it on a lesson plan so clearly that a substitute or another teacher could come in and do it exactly as I planned to.

And I can make them LIKE IT!

I can get 3 hours' worth of paperwork done in 45 minutes. In the same 45 minutes, I can call 4 parents and document the details of each phone call, reprint progress reports for 6 students who lost theirs, order a new toner cartridge, file 180 graded students assignments into 80 different student folders, go to the teacher workroom on the other end of campus and scan 80 tests, record 80 test grades in the gradebook--- twice--- once by pen in the paper gradebook, and once in the electronic gradebook because I'm required to do both, submit copies for tomorrow's lessons, write 16 test questions at various depths of knowledge, take a phone call from a counselor to discuss John Doe and mark my calendar for the parent conference we're having tomorrow, fill out behavior modification documents on John Doe and three of his cohorts, look up 80 addresses in the computer and write them onto 80 envelopes, make copies of the 80 letters that are going into the 80 envelopes, stuff the 80 letters into the 80 envelopes, run the envelopes up to the "outgoing mail" basket, file the 80 copies of the letters into the proper student files so I can prove I sent them, erase the answers off the board from the previous class, and get to the doorway and muster a smile before the next class comes. Then I greet them warmly and spend the next two hours appearing to be-- a) not stressed out at all, and b) completely focused on them.

In the English department meeting, I can bite my tongue when I am criticized for not having accomplished 100% of the above during my 45 minute break. I can smile and agree that I am not meeting the expectations of my job. I can smile when it is implied that this means that I don't care about my students, that I may have something negative noted in my evaluation and/or my personnel file, or that my students' lack of achievement is the result of my shortcomings.

When I get home at the end of the day, I turn on the tv and see a politician promising to "raise the bar" on these schools, get rid of lazy educators, and begin paying teachers based on their students' performance.

And none of it gets to me, cause it's just a job after all. And I don't really care anyway, remember?

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', it's my pity party and I'll bitch if I want to, teacher life

I'm sorry, people. There's plenty going on, I suppose, but it all just seems so damn boring. Even the trip doesn't seem blog worthy right now. Imagine that. The things on my mind right now aren't that interesting. It seems like work is all I think about.

I've gotten 4 new students since returning from Christmas. That's one per day. New students have trickled in all year long, but I guess people think the new semester is a good time to make changes. You should see my gradebook! It started out as a neat alphabetical list; now it's a mess. Our student population moves around a lot. It'd be so much easier on everyone, including them, if they'd find a place to live and pay the bills long enough to stay there through a school year.

Three of the new students are guys, and the other is a mouthy little female with a tough-girl facade. I'm not sure if she needs a hug or an ass whuppin'. Yesterday I was tempted to give her the latter after she called me a bitch. I would tell you the story, but you've already heard it. Here. I'll give you the abridged version.

Student talks loudly out of turn.
Teacher gently instructs student to be quiet and that we'll talk later.
Student continues shouting.
Teacher becomes more firm, finally telling student to sit down.
Student calls teacher a bitch.
Teacher sends student on a three day vacation.

These kinds of things used to ruin my day, but now I just give them their vacation pass without missing a beat. The good thing is that this kind of stuff doesn't happen much anymore, especially with the students I've had a while. This girl just doesn't know Mrs. DeadpanAnn yet. She better recognize.

Tim's birthday was yesterday. He took off work and spent the day repairing the door to the shop. Remember this episode of Sweet Tea destruction?? A few days ago Bear and Daisy (the current mutts) finished the job by chewing all the way through the door. Once inside, they chewed the padding out of a motorcycle helmet or two (do you know what those cost, by the way?) and tore up some other not-exactly-cheap stuff.

I yelled. Not at the dogs. At Tim.

He tried to replace the door after Sweet Tea screwed it up a year ago, but couldn't find a door that would fit. You had to buy the frame and everything, and he didn't want to mess with that. After the most recent episode of Tim and Ann's Animals Hate Them was aired, I insisted that the door be replaced right away. Leave it to Tim to come up with a way to satisfy me without doing what I want. He used his new shop toys and covered the entire door with a layer of some thin piece of wood, then painted it. You can't tell.

Tim. Making things 47 to 53% less white trashy since 1973.

Labels: Musings on the Man, teacher life, this house is trying to kill me

The first part of today was fine. The second part sucked. In a space of two hours, the following tragedies occured in my classroom:

1. Tornado warning. Warning. As in "a tornado is on the ground and headed your way-- cover your ass!" Imagine trying to keep 18 seventh graders in the fetal position against a wall for 45 minutes. Most of them weren't taking it seriously and continued to giggle and talk despite my attempts to focus them on the art of not dying, but one kid was really nervous. Poor nervous kid happened to land on the end of the row of bodies, closest to the window, so I sat next to him. I remember being scared out of my mind during storms when I was....wait. I'm still scared during storms. That kind of storm, anyway.

2. A kid lost his tooth during the tornado warning, and it bled profusely. He's a little short guy, a late-bloomer, and he was embarrassed when I asked incredulously, "Is that a baby tooth!?" Oops. My bad. I gave him a bottle of water and a wad of napkins and a garbage can. He risked his 12 year old life by abandoning the fetal position to stand in front of said garbage can for ten minutes, and spit out what looked like a gallon of blood into the trash.

3. A kid shit his pants during 7th period. Shit. His pants. The kids were in reading pairs when he sidled up to me and handed me a note that had been folded down to the size of a quarter. I get these on occasion from kids with various motives. It's usually a genuine case where a kid has a problem and is embarrassed and doesn't want anyone to know what's up, but sometimes it's just a ploy to get permission to go to the bathroom, which is almost always denied in my classroom, especially to 7th graders. They can't be trusted, and they're only in the class for 50 minutes. They can hold it. Anyway, because this particular folded up note was handed to me by this particularly mischievous child, I suspected it was b.s., and gave him the "I can't believe you think I'm going to buy this" look as I unfolded it. It said, Mrs. DPA, Can I please talk to you outside I have a problem and I'm not playing please I am serious and I am not playing!!! I gestured toward the door, and followed him out there while the others continued about their task of not reading.

What's up?
Um. I was sick last period. I think I have a stomach virus. Can I go call my mom?
It's 7th period. She'll be here in 20 minutes whether you call her or not. Just sit down and tough it out.
No I need to go to the bathroom or call my mom cause see I was sick and I tried to...uh...pass gas, but I think something else came out.
...
You know, came out.
[silently inside my head]: Don't laugh. Do not laugh. Be serious. Don't smile. Clench your jaw. There. Good. Now. Speak.
Just now?
Yeah.
Oh. Well. Go to the bathroom and do what you gotta do.

The kid came back from the bathroom a minute later and waved at me through the window of the door. I stepped back out.

I was right.
Okay. Well. I guess go to the office and tell them to let you stay in there until your mom gets here. I'll call her and I'll call and let them know you're coming.
You mean I gotta tell THEM what happened?
Well, they're gonna want to know why you're sitting..or, uh, standing in the office until the bell.
Awwww Mrs. DPA I can't tell them!
Just go back there baby, I'll take care of it.
Don't let nobody know.
Trust me. I'll take care of it.
Can we just keep this between us, cause this is kinda embarrassing.
My lips are sealed.

You know why teachers put up with what they put up with? Cause there's never a boring minute. Think about it. Is there anything that can't happen to me at work???? Would a person who doesn't savor that fact put up with this kind of crap? (Pun intended.)

I love my job.

Labels: teacher life

Finally, I'm home free. It was an easy day at work. Only a few kids were there, and it was basically a matter of just holding them in the room between bells. We didn't do anything educational, even though I had planned something. They were sweet. They had all brought food, and they were sharing it with me and each other. They were giving gifts to each other, and I even got a couple of happy packages myself. One of my big football players even came and hugged me and said Merry Christmas. He's been a tough nut to crack, so I felt like that was monumental.

I love my kids.

I did attend the Christmas "party," though I would hardly call it that. It should be called a "fifty tired teachers crammed into a small space wondering when the hell they're going to start taking our damn orders already."

The fun people sat at the bar. I didn't, but I could hear them. I'm not sure if any lampshades were involved, as the librarian didn't show and I stuck to the unsweet tea. All in all it was a somewhat disappointing event.

One of the math teachers had her 6 month-ish old boy there, and he was a
keyyouuuuuuuuuuuuuteeeeeeee!!! I went and held him, and I swear it made my ovaries tingle.

After work I decided I'd better start Christmas shopping, so I ventured to the wild side of Hattiesburg. I was almost killed several times by crazy drivers, but I survived and managed to get gifts for my niece and nephew as well as something for Tim. I already have my dad's gift and know what I'm getting my mother, but I didn't track one down before I got tired and went home.

To say that I'm tired would be an understatement. I'm going to pass out before 9:00..... again.

My parents' anniversary is today. I think it's their 36th.

Labels: teacher life

I'm in workshops all week this week, so there's not much to say except that I'm bored out of my skull. The district signed me up for a classroom management workshop yesterday, and then my principal signed me up for a separate classroom management/teacher motivation thing later this week.

Someone thinks DPA needs some help.

I know all this stuff about classroom management, and employ it in my room. I do write a lot of people up though, and I think that's what they're thinking about when they sign me up for this stuff. From what I hear happening in the classrooms near me, I'm not the one who needs this workshop. Just because you never write anyone up doesn't mean you're in control of your classroom. It just means you're willing to sacrifice their learning for the sake of appearing to be in control.

Whatever. I'll take a week of workshops over a week of teaching. Besides, I need to learn more anyway. I've come to realize that my biggest problem is that I don't relax enough in the classroom. I'm so worried that they're going to do something wrong that I sometimes jump on every little thing. It's hard to tell what's acceptable, normal, ignorable behavior, and what's disruptive. Sometimes something that's not disruptive will lead to something that is, and I might overreact. My point is that some of those referrals could probably have been prevented if I were more relaxed and confident. So instead of being pissy about the fact that other people probably need this worse than me, I'm just gonna get what I can from it so that next year when the central office asks who needs it they don't send me.

I do enjoy the break though.

Labels: teacher life

TH and I frequently sleep in separate rooms when we're both working. It's not that we don't want to sleep together; it's just easier that way. When we do sleep together on work nights, one of us usually gets up and goes to the other bed in the middle of the night out of sheer desperation to get some sleep before the alarm goes off. I guess it's not typical newlywed behavior, but it works for us. One of these days we're gonna get a bigger bed, and force ourselves to get used to each other.

Anyway, the bed from the guest room is now leaning against the wall in the entry way, so we had no choice but to share a bed last night. It was after 11:00 when I fell asleep. At about 1:30 I woke up briefly and felt nauseated. The house smelled like strawberry scented Lysol. TH thinks the stuff smells better than regular Lysol, and he'd gone on a spraying spree in the house because of what the dogs had done earlier. It smells like vomit to me. Frankly, I'd rather smell dog shit.

I fell back asleep, and woke up again less than an hour later. My forehead was wet and my stomach was hurting. the house still smelled like vomit. I fell asleep again. Maybe half an hour later, I was awake again and my stomach was doing violent things. This time, TH was in bed next to me. Little did he know, he was in for a long night. We both were.

My stomach ached all night long. Every time I laid down, I felt like I was either going to vomit or have explosive diarrhea, so I'd get up and go to the bathroom but nothing would happen. I drank half a bottle of anti-nausea liquid, which didn't help much. From about 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., I went back and forth between lying down and praying for relief to sitting on the toilet holding a garbage can and praying that I could just puke.

Around 5 a.m., it finally started to feel better. I fell back asleep and got about another hour. Getting up for work at 6:00 was a drag, and my stomach still felt fragile. I wanted to call in sick, but I called in sick last Tuesday and the Tuesday before. The first time, I actually woke up feeling bad. (In hindsight, I didn't feel that bad. TODAY I felt BAD!) But last week I just wanted to spend the day with TH. We went carpet shopping and what not. Regardless, I couldn't call in sick for a third consecutive Tuesday, so I stopped at Wal Mart for some Pepto on the way to work. I dared not drink any coffee, and breakfast was out of the question. I drank some cold water and a few gulps of the pink stuff, and forged ahead into a day of hyperactive, disrespectful, hard headed young'uns.

By about halfway through first period, I felt much better. The kids were super great today because they got to use computers, so that made it so much easier. I think my little knuckleheads are coming around. They even seem to like me a little. Hell, I like a few of them. Even with three hours of sleep and a gut full of Pepto.

I hope TH ran into some luck too. He didn't get much more sleep than I did-- plus he had to listen to me whine and grunt all night.

Labels: explosive diarrhea, teacher life

Today at work I was bitten on the ass by a fire ant. The school yard is dotted with ant hills, so it's no wonder I came too close to one during today's outdoor pep rally, but what's really amazing is that it made it all the way up my leg and into my underwear before it started injecting me with its fiery venom. The dance team happened to be doing a routine at the exact moment I realized there was a venomous insect inside my underwear, and I went across the yard in front of the stage, arms flailing, shaking my legs. Doing a dance of my own. The ants in my pants dance.

Man, that sucked.

Tomorrow will be a day of reckoning for many. It's report card day. The kids don't come to school, but the parents have to come get report cards. They're also supposed to come meet with us as needed. During the faculty meeting today, one of the guidance counselors gave explicit directions on what to do if (when) a parent becomes irate.

Can't wait!

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

When I was a middle school student, most of my teachers used red ink pens. When I did poorly on something, I wouldn't even look at what I had done wrong on an assignment because I was so put off by the fact that my paper looked like it had been dipped in blood. Even if the teacher wrote me an encouraging note, it read as condescending and snappy.

I had one teacher somewhere along the way who used green. Much less threatening. I could actually read what she wrote and figure out what I had done wrong without feeling stupid. Her use of a green ink pen actually made me like her more. So when I started teaching, I started using green ink pens. I occasionally use a red one, but not on anything that the kids need to correct. If it's got red ink on it, chances are it's getting filed instead of being returned to the student. Unless I have no choice because something horrible has happened to my green ink pen.

Before school started, I began looking for certain supplies, including green ink pens. There were none to be found! Not even Wal-Mart carried green ink pens. What's that about? The green ink pens used to be stocked right next to the red ones. Is there a low demand for green ink pens? Have we educators become so frustrated and angry that only red can convey our disgust?

I finally found a green pen, but I had to buy a pack of four pens to get it. The pack had one green, one blue, one black, and one red.

I wear a lanyard with my teacher i.d. and my keys, and I always hook my beloved green ink pen on there too, so it's close to my heart. All I had to do was reach for him, and he was there, ready to spare some disadvantaged child the pain of having his paper covered in red ink. We were partners, Greenie and I.

Thursday while my kids were testing, I went to the front of the room to check their binders. I had a stack of "from your teacher" notes, and planned to write down what each kid needed to do to get their binders in order, and leave the note in the binders for them. On the first note, I wrote, "Put all loose papers in appropriate sections!" The word "sections" looked a little lighter. On the next one, I had to stop and shake Greenie to get the whole note written. On the one after that, Greenie made a sputtering sound, and I heard the last of his breath eek out as his overworked body went limp in my hand.

At first, I couldn't accept the truth. I started to put him back in my desk drawer, thinking maybe he just needed a good night of sleep. But that would only lead to more disappointment the next day, so I buried him in the trash can.

For the rest of that day and the next, I kept reaching for him only to remember that he's gone. He's gone, and he'll never be back.

R.I.P., Greenie. You were the last of a dying breed.

Labels: not so good news, teacher life

Nine weeks exams start tomorrow. Some of my kids take it tomorrow, and some take it Friday. Today we spent the entire day reviewing and working on a rather rigorous "study guide."

They did a fair job. Most of them, anyway.

Some of them just aren't going to catch on no matter what I do. Need an example of why I think this? I can think of a few. First, a little background.

I taught them three methods for fixing run-on sentences. They are:

1. Use a semicolon between the two complete thoughts,
2. Use a comma and a conjunction between the two complete thoughts, or
3. Put a period at the end of the first complete thought and capitalize the first word of the second one, making the run-on into two separate sentences.

(Yes, I realize there's a fourth method. I was just trying to keep it simple because I didn't think they'd use the fourth method, which involves words like "therefore" and "however." Those aren't really in their vocab yet.)

They also have been practicing fixing fragments. When talking about fragments, I told them that a fragment is a piece of a sentence. I used the illustration of a broken lamp. If I drop my mother's lamp and it breaks into pieces, I have fragments of that lamp in the floor. To make it whole again, I have to glue the pieces together to make it complete. A fragment of a sentence needs some missing piece that it has to have in order to be complete. Simple enough?

Read on. But first, stop to thank the good Lord for your 8th grade English teacher, who helped give you the ability.

Another treasure of 8th grade English is author's purpose: to inform, to entertain, to persuade, or to express.

They also have to know the story elements, which are character, setting, plot, etc.

We've practiced these things for so long that I honestly don't know how else to present it or how else to get them to practice it.

So (to get to the point) imagine my pain when I ask a child to tell me one of the story elements, and he says, "Comma and a conjunction." Or when another one says, "Author's purpose!"

Or when I ask someone what the author's purpose is, and they say, "A semicolon."

Or when we've written down and identified and provided examples for all three methods for fixing run-ons, and a kid who has apparently been asleep suddenly looks up and raises her hand like she's just figured out something brand new, and loudly declares that the way to fix a broken climax is to glue it together, like Mamma's lamp.

Orrrr when I give them a fragment to rewrite, and they stick a semicolon in there randomly.

They can't identify an independent clause because an independent clause is a complete thought, and none of them has ever had one.

Labels: Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', teacher life

Instead of hiring a sub for my room Friday, they just let one of the inclusion teachers hold my classes. I left quite a large amount of work for the young'uns to do, and specifically requested that it all be turned in before the kids leave. Mrs. C-is-for-crazy didn't make them turn it in, and only four kids did. Four out of seventy five.

I don't really care about the work. It was 99% busy work, but that's not the point. What did they do all day? I know what the SUB did (see below), but what did the students do??

ALLLLLLL of the settings on my computer have changed. She changed the picture on the desktop, reset all the preferences and options in Internet Explorer, deleted my search history, etc. She apparently spent the entire day searching for solutions to a pain in her upper back. It's probably a severe case of pain-in-the-neck-itis.

Labels: stupid people, teacher life

The amount of bullshit in my job is overwhelming. I've said before that for every hour I spend teaching, I have to spend two hours doing paperwork to prove that I'm teaching-- or that I'm adhering to the special plans for the SPED kids, or that I'm doing this or that or the other thing that might leave someone behind. I'm all for accountability, but some of this shit needs to be eliminated, and the rest needs done by a freaking secretary. Every time some asshole who doesn't work in a classroom gets the bright idea for a way to make HIS job easier, it makes mine harder. EVERYTHING falls to the teachers. Let me ask you this: Since we're the ones who spend the time in the classroom with the kids, doing the actual teaching, shouldn't someone else step in and take care of some of the documentation? I mean, wouldn't that free us up to, oh, I don't know, TEACH?

It's not like I don't work my ass off. If a piece of paper doesn't get printed out, is that really worth knocking morale down ten points for? I'd take this kind of thing much better if I didn't have to get to work at 7:30, leave at 5:30, and work at home until 9:30 just to keep my head above water.

Anyway, the thing is that at any given time there are at least a dozen things which must be done, and each and every one of those things is urgent. Everything is at the very top of the list of priorities. There's not much room up there, you know. I like my bosses-- all forty seven of them-- but I don't think it's right that I'm given 900 things to do, and all 900 must be done immediately and they shit their pants if it's not, but they've got one or two things that they're supposed to be doing for me, and I can just suck it until they get around to doing it at their leisure.

I'm still taking off Friday. I was going to go visit my mom and 'nem in North MS, but now I'm thinking about just using the day to catch up on work. Right now I'm debating on it. Maybe I will work at home all day Friday and try to get most of my work done, and go up there Saturday morning if I feel like it.

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', teacher life

My lesson was awesome again today. For my two hour classes, it involved some reading. We are reading Monster, which all of the kids are interested in because it's about a teenager who's on trial for murder, and there are apparently a few curse words as well as a rape scene. This book is notorious among our youngsters. The eighth grade reads it every year, and every year the seventh graders hear about the juicy stuff from them and beg the teachers to let them read it. So my eighth graders have been looking forward to this for a year, and today when I pulled out the classroom set they nearly came unglued. Some people may say it's inappropriate to let kids read a book that includes a spattering of damns and maybe a shit here and there, or a rape scene. I say whatever it takes. These kids have seen and heard worse than anything this book will show them. More importantly, I've never seen a class of thirteen year olds literally overjoyed at the prospect of reading a book. An issue of Dub magazine, yes. An actual book? Not so much. They are reading a book, and they are loving it. Mission accomplished.

I have not read Monster. Well, I've read the first 25 pages now. I must admit I'm eager to read it too. Of course it's because I'm excited about teaching the elements of literature, and not because I want to read about a sixteen year old getting raped in prison. My favorite college roommate was an English Education major, and she had to read it for an adolescent lit class, and she told me about it then. She thought it was great. Of course, she was high most of the time, so...

...she would probably know...

This weekend will not be a relaxing one for me. If I get started on my work now and don't take any breaks, I might be done by Tuesday. There's a mountain of crap for me to grade, and I have to plan some decent lessons this week. They changed their minds about how detailed our lesson plans have to be, and now they're going to take me twice as long to write. I was barely getting it finished before. And the superintendent is coming to observe us Monday. On top of that, my house is trashed. Nary a towel has been folded in six weeks, and our coffee table is buried under papers and cups and who knows what else. My bedtime routine now includes moving a pile of clothes from the bed to the floor, then back to the bed the next morning, and we're pretending the kitchen doesn't even exist.

Today I went to Office Depot to get one of those rolling cart thingies to haul my weekend burdens back and forth. I checked out laptops while I was there, because that is my new longing. I could really use one for work. This Wednesday I had to spend an afternoon planning in a group of teachers and that experience confirmed that I need a laptop. I kept having to borrow people's jump drives and run back and forth between three computers to get everything I needed to one place. Meanwhile, two teachers who had their own laptops were making a major dent in their plans without moving from where they started. I was running myself ragged, and decided I'd tell TH I needed a laptop. He said fine. But then I started looking. I thought I would be able to get a decent one for a decent price, but you have to spend $1,000 to get anything good. I could get one for $600 or $700, but I don't know if it's worth it or not. I don't want to get a cheap machine that will not last two years, or that will be unable to run new software two years from now. At the same time, I don't want to spend $1,500 on one. It would make things easier, but I guess I can get by without one. Maybe Santa will bring me one. I've been good, you know.

Labels: Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', teacher life

A few days ago they brought a new student to my classroom. She looks like she's about 40 years old. She's 15. She is originally from New Orleans, but moved to Georgia after Katrina. While in Georgia, she didn't attend school very much. She did get a tattoo and get pregnant, however, and now she's here in Mississippi and ready to not be left behind. She's three months pregnant, and I have to let her go to the bathroom when she wants and I have to let her eat crackers in class for nausea. I don't mind doing this, of course, but it does make it hard for me to keep the other not-pregnant, not-tattoed kids in line.

She was kinda scary looking, and I was worried about having her in my class at first. I mean, how do you take a kid who has been living without any kind of boundaries or authority for the last two years, is expecting a child of her own, and expect her to take you seriously when you tell her not to speak without permission and to stand on the black line while waiting to get her styrofoam tray of nastiness in the cafeteria? I decided to be really sweet and caring, and just see if I could win her over. Because I thought it might take some work.

Much to my relief, she's been very easy to deal with. She wanted to know what she had missed, and she's taken a real interest in getting caught up. She participates, and she usually gets the answers right--- or at least close to right. She's relatively bright, and I think she can catch up. She's sweet. She asks me for my fruit every day at lunch, and I give it to her. She eats the regular cafeteria food, and that apple or whatever is probably the only beneficial thing her baby is getting, besides a prenatal vitamin.

Today there was a sub in my classroom because I had to attend a training thingie. At the end of the day, I went back to my classroom because I had to attend a faculty meeting on campus after school. On my way back to my room, I happened to see her coming out of the bathroom. She stopped me to ask if I had any fruit, and I jokingly asked her if she'd missed me. She said, "Yes! That class was running all over that lady today!"

I didn't have any fruit today, but told her I'd get her a bag of mixed fruit at the store. Hey, teachers used to be the ones receiving apples and giving information. It's a new generation, people. Catch up. Apples for information-- that's a good trade. It's so refreshing to find someone who's willing to tell all. I got a few juicy details, and there'll be hell to pay tomorrow. Hell to pay, I tell you! Muwahahahahahahahahah!

Labels: teacher life

This week was long. One group of my kids acted like a bunch of monkeys on crack all week, and another group acted that way yesterday. Their first test was this week, as I mentioned in my last post, and maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe it was just a full moon. Was it a full moon? Felt like it.

On Tuesday, the superintendent came into my room first thing in the morning, just to see. And what she saw was me scrambling to get my bell ringer written on the board and put some news articles on the desks thirty seconds before they were to arrive. On Wednesday, my boss came to my room during my planning period. I have lots of bosses, but the main boss came in. The principal, who I almost never see. He came to tell me that I was doing a good job, and that he had noticed "a marked improvement since the first week." At first I wondered what I had done so wrong the first week. Then I decided that by "marked improvement" he really meant "dramatic decrease in number of office referrals."

Yesterday sucked. My young 'uns decided to go apeshit and meet my every request with complaining and resistance and smart-mouthed remarks. It might sound pathetic to get worn down by a bunch of 13 and 14 year olds, but when they get organized in their hatred of you, it can get tough. If they could organize that well to get out of poverty or learn to read and write and think and take responsibility for their actions, they'd change the world in ten years. At one point I could've just sat and cried if I'd had the time.

During our planning period yesterday, a teacher in the room next to me stuck her head in my room and said, "Don't let the fuckers get ya down." True words of wisdom.

Today was much better. It was Friday, it's a long weekend, and it was payday. Ahhhh, payday! I started working July 23, by the way, and this is the first check I've received. Things seem much harder when you haven't seen any compensation for it. Today's paycheck was like Benadryl on a broken ankle. So soothing...as long as you belieeeeeeeeeeve!

Labels: teacher life

Many of the observations I'm making at work right now are not safe to share. I would love to go into great detail about all the new people I've met, but I can't, because one of them might find this here blog. Instead of talking about specific personalities, I'll tell you about something I've been trying to figure out. Let me start by saying that the more time I spend at work, the more convinced I am that this is going to be a cake walk compared to my first experience.

As I watch the first year teachers at my new school, I'm surprised how calm they are. Over the past two weeks I have wondered why they weren't nervous. Today they were a little more anxious to ask questions and express concerns, and I imagine they'll have more of the same tomorrow, considering it's the last child-free day of work. But even with the questions and concerns they're still fairly calm, and I keep looking at them and wondering how.

There are a couple of possibilities. One is that they're still blissfully ignorant. They don't know what's coming. The experienced teachers aren't nervous, because they know what's coming and what they're going to do when it gets there. The brand new ones aren't nervous because they don't know. Having only done this one time before, I know what's coming and how important it is to be ready, but still am not 100% confident that I am totally ready. I feel like the one bird on the shore that thinks the tsunami's on the way and is bracing for it. The veterans are already in a safe place, and the newbies are pecking away at insects like everything's cool. I noticed that another second year teacher seemed to also be bracing for the tsunami, keenly aware that if you don't hold on, it can overwhelm you.

Another possibility is that it's really not that bad here and there's not as much to be nervous about. I know those two outgoing teachers tried to scare me that one day a few weeks ago, but the more I work and the more I hear (from teachers who are NOT outgoing) the more I think the kids are pretty manageable. They still come with all the complications of children from low income families, but I think the expectations are still much higher. A poor kid can make it if s/he has someone who fully expects them to. A rich kid can't make it if nobody gives a damn. (Look at Lindsay Lohan and the rest of 'em.)

I'm sure it's a little of both-- the new teachers aren't sure what to expect, and when it gets there it won't be unmanageable. I know they're gonna come in trying to find out whether they can take over, but I don't think there will be anything heavy hurled at my head.

I've got my helmet within reach just in case.

Labels: teacher life