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[ A Letter of Introduction ]
Door-ky
Okay, I’ve been complaining about jack-a-ninny e-mails coming in from staff and faculty lately, so it’s time for me to give them some love. Pécan sent this:
Teachers are taking their students outside to do projects. Great idea! When you bring the students back into the school do not let adults come in the school with you. Staff do not open any other door in the school for anyone. We had parents wandering around the school today trying to find the offices. All parents are required to come to the front of the school and check in. The front door is the only door for visitors. This is district policy. Please help by following school procedures.
Absolutely! I think any teacher should be fired for letting this happen. Let me hip you to a little secret, people. All bad guys don’t dress like the Hamburgerler. They don't wear those striped prison outfits and a mask. That’s why we don’t let strangers into the building.
Shoot, even if you recognize the person, you don’t let them in through side doors. How many times have they interviewed the neighbors of a caught mass murderer and they said, “He seemed so normal.”
Please, if we are going to teach our kids safety, then can we remember some of those lessons for ourselves?
Exit Music
Administration seems to be dead-set on improving student traffic flow, and I say bully for them. Unfortunately, the road to hell is paved with dumb ideas. Right now we’re in the middle of Hammer’s between-period-serenades, and now Pécan has sent out an e-mail informing us on the new bell schedule to end the day.
The plan is to release bus riders at a different time than those traveling by car or foot, so that there are less students in the hallway at what is probably the most hectic portion of the day (what I like to call, “prison break time”).
At least I think that is the plan. Pécan sent the e-mail to my computer instead of the needed enigma machine to decode what he was trying to say:
Car riders and walkers will be released at 2:25, but prior to that bus riders will leave at 2:17, which is a difference of seven minutes between the previous parties and the former leaving.
Good Lord, talk about your word problems. The problem is that he doesn’t know how to use words. It gets better, look:
Tomorrow, please take inventory as to which students are bus riders, walkers, or car riders in both your 7th period to be able to release them at the appropriate bell for the end of school.
Now, how am I supposed to take inventory of which students do what? It’s not exactly honest injun time with a bunch of these kids. Many of their default settings are fixed to ‘lie mode.’
“Listen up, kids. You guys who sign your parents’ names on progress reports, you guys who buy papers off the Internet, you guys who ask to use the restroom and are found on the other side of campus making out with your significant other by the maintenance staff thirty minutes later, will you raise your hands to tell me if you’re supposed to leave earlier than the other students.”
I might as well ask them to raise their hands if they think English is gay. I’d probably get the same result.
And it’s not like anything would be different, if I didn’t tell them before why I was taking a census. As I said before, they’re set to ‘lie mode.’ Don’t believe me? Then keep track of all the students who need to make up quizzes, but don’t. When you confront them, do they tell you that they came by, but you weren’t there? Right, how often do you leave your room?
Class-ified as ‘Dangerous’
I made a pact with the devil today. Better yet, I made a pact to get rid of some devils.
I took on another prep. I’m teaching the first semester of senior English during this second semester. It’s for those who need to pass in order to graduate on time, but time is running out. So, I’m looking at teaching a class I’ve never taught before to students who didn’t exactly thrive previously with teachers with experience on the material—starting tomorrow!
So why would I agree to such a situation when Borrish proposed it to me? I did it because she promised that it would take the place of my current fourth period class.
People, I’m telling you that my fourth period’s the class from hell. By the chance of schedule creation by the counselors, I ended with the dregs in a single class—the dregs, crowned with the offensive. They are like The Dirty Dozen of the education world, except there are thirty-two and probably had more training with weapons. Have you not noticed how I haven’t really been talking much about my students lately? It’s because it’s been too traumatic!
There’s the guy who uses the F-bomb so much that he makes Tony Montana look like Joel Osteen. Then there’s the kid who celebrates the fact that the number of condom wrappers in his used condom wrapper jar is steadily outgrowing the amount of condoms in condom jar. Who has those kinds of jars?! And let’s not forget the young ‘lady’ who slips the argument that the Klan doesn’t get a fair shake into every single one of her analysis. The list goes on…
What can I say? I gave up on them. It was either them or me, so I decided to run to fight another day. I had tried everything (appealed to their senses, called home, had administration intervention). Blowing up that roll sheet was the best outcome because there’s strength in numbers and that’s bad, especially when that number is 666.
Sure, now they’ll go and infect other classrooms, but think about it like it’s radiation. Everyone can take small doses. It’s heavy exposure that’s dangerous, and I was without one of those protective suits.
Popcorn Goes the Weasel
Without getting into the horrendous details, I made the mistake of trying to do popcorn reading in my freshmen class today. What am I saying? There are no details to why I did such a stupid thing. I guess I’d just been hit over the head enough times with all the “in theory only” teaching strategies that I had been brainwashed into believing that it would work with my most malleable students I had, the freshmen.
For those not hip to this scene, popcorn reading is a practice that puts the reading into the students’ hands. S/he reads as much as a passage as s/he feels comfortable doing and then utters the word “popcorn” to indicate a desire to switch readers followed by a fellow student’s name, who then repeats the process. In a perfect situation, a substantial amount of the students will have flexed his/her reading muscles by the time the activity is finished.
Sadly, in a real situation only the jack-a-ninny muscles get flexed.
First, there are the ones who read one word before saying, “popcorn,” even though you said that wasn’t allowed. Then there are the friends who tease one another by volleying “popcorns” back and forth, though that too was covered in the instructions. But one wrinkle that I didn’t see coming was the kid who added “balls” every time he said, “popcorn.” To make things worse he said it like, “ballllz,” for emphasis. And on top of that—he decided to defend himself when I attempted to modify his behavior. You can probably guess how that went.
“What? “Popcornballs’ is a word. You eat them.”
“Actually, it’s two wor—“
“Ha! See!”
“See what? That you can neither spell, nor count?”
If there is a bright side, then I guess it is that I now have a pretty good idea who carved BALLLLZ into one of my desks.
I need a committee relationship.
It’s a staff development day on this MLK Day, which I guess that means I’m underdeveloped, and that’s fine. In fact, I’m being sent to central office because I’m going to some sort of inaugural meeting for an integrating technology into the classroom committee that I forgot all about. Borrish, the department head, sends so many e-mails our way that they kind of wash over me, but thinking back it seems like she had mentioned something about “being selected.” I guess it wasn’t for that experimental teacher pay raise program that I’ve always dreamed of, right?
I wasn’t the only teacher picked for this honor. One of the math teachers was selected too, except she’s not going. According to her, she has too much to catch up on with her grading.
Really, huh… what’s that like because I have no idea what she’s talking about. What a unique excuse.
And to add insult to, well, insult, she finished with, “Tell me how it goes.”
Why? Why would I do that? Not only do I have to go to this meeting (because it’s my job), but I have to get caught up on grading too, just like any teacher—and you want me to fill you in on what you’re neglecting.
I tell you what, how’s about I kick you in the knee, and you tell me how that goes? How does that sound?
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~Door-ky
~Exit Music
~Class-ified as ‘Dangerous’
~Popcorn Goes the Weasel
~I need a committee relationship.
~A Laborious Effort
~Fats Domi-Oh-No
~Got Spit?
~Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!
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