It's Not All Flowers and Sausages

So We Had "The Talk...."

2008-05-17T09:27:00.000-07:00

...And I Feel Like I Need To Go Shower...So Dirty...So Very Very Dirty

I've been struggling for days about how to make this post humorous, because that's kind of my thing. It makes me feel better about the everyday tragedies that are my job and (so I think) it makes you laugh. It's a win win.

I'm not sure that I can do it.

To catch up those of you who have not read my post about The Talk (first of all, shame on you for not reading)...I have recently discovered that several of my very young students are talking about sex, including lesbianism, rape and pussies (sorry for the graphic language...but it is all them, not me) and I, being the adult in the room, needed to deal with it.

(sigh) Sometimes I SO don't feel like being the adult.

At first, I was going to have a colleague come help me. She's amazing and works with our older students on "non-discussable" topics. We were going to do a read aloud, talk about the words that are being used and then doing some role playing. But at the last minute, I changed my mind and had her pull out the repeat offenders for a one-on-one chat. I made this decision because (a) I'm a huge wuss, (b) I just don't feel ready to use the words "dick" and "boobs" in front of my class, and (c) I didn't want to be responsibile for introducing these words or topics to the children in my class who may NOT be dirty talking their way through recess.

Ok, so it was mostly (c)...I just had visions of the whole thing back firing on me and the situation deteriorating into an innocence-robbing session for some of my friends. I mean, to quote the Weave's fine wisdom, they have a lifetime of talking about sex, touching and what exactly a vagina is.

So really, all I got was a play by play from my colleague. Which was enough, thank you very much.

Evidently, four kids (two in my class) started a "Sex Club" where they get together, talk about sex and various body parts, and, possibly, look at each other in the bathroom. And I don't mean in the mirror.

Cut to me, with my hand over my mouth, eyes wide, stomach churning as my colleage relayed this information to me. I mean, COME ON!!! What happened to, "He called me dumb!", "She said shut up!" or "He farted!"?? I can deal with name calling, the shut ups and the farts. I mean, once I had a kid come back to the room covered in his own poo....I would so much rather have a friend covered in poo than a "Sex Club" to deal with.

Long story short (or maybe it's already long....), my colleague had a big heart to heart with these kids about the words they are using. She recognized their curiosity but told them that HOW they are using these words is not okay at school. Then she referred them all to their parents for more information. Next week, we are going to sit down with their parents as well and tell them the whole story.

Pass the buck much?

The Softer Side of the Weave

2008-05-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

Alternative Title - "Dropping the F Bomb"

Today the phone rang mid-math lesson (of course).

Me: Hello?
The Weave: I'm sending up a sub...let's talk about your possible hold-over students in my office.
Me: Now?
The Weave: Yes. See you in 10. I'm just finishing up reading The Newspaper.

(She's reading the F'ing newspaper?? At 9:30 in the morning when she should be working? And admitting to it??)

And, like the magician I am, I miraculously pulled fifty minutes worth of lesson plans out of my a*s, uh..hat, in those brief ten minutes.

I went downstairs mentally reviewing my short list of friends-I-am-concerned-about. I hate holding kids over (making them repeat a grade) and welcome the opportunity to discuss my decision with anyone who will listen...even The Weave.

I get into her office and we actually have a fairly productive conversation in which she successfully plays devil's advocate and pushes my thinking.

Yes, you read correctly. It was almost a full-on compliment for The Weave. I'm not ALL snark you know.

We're discussing one of my long-time friends who happens to have an I.E.P. (For those of you outside of the world of education, that means an Individualized Education Plan. It is written for students who have diagnosed learning issues...yet, in my school the I.E.P. remains this mythical document that the teacher is never provided a copy of, because, really, why would it be beneficial for the teacher, of all people, to have access to a list of goals created for that particular student? ...hello? Please tell me you are picking up on the sarcasm here). As a result of my friend's I.E.P. she is entitled to receive special services from "experts" in the field of special education.

Notice my use of quotations with the word "expert." It is all intentional, baby. I rank our "expert" to be as effective and knowledge as say, a turnip. Yes, sit a large turnip in a chair in my classroom, and our "expert" in another chair. My friend will get just about the same amount of academic help from both.

I'm not kidding.

Needless to say, I am frustrated by this individual's (let's just call her The Turnip, shall we?) lack of sense of responsibility toward children. In other words, I think she sucks the fat one.

I decide to express these frustrations to The Weave, because all too often, The Turnip flies under the radar and the administration simply looks the other way as she consistently screws up her schedule, demonstrates a blatant lack of knowledge about anything, and offends everyone with her lack of style. Or maybe that's just me who is offended by her insistence on mixing a loud paisley blouse (I mean it's 2008...PAISLEY??!?!) with checkered capris. Just because everything is red, doesn't mean it matches, sister.

Getting back on track -
I vent my opinions to The Weave.

Me: I just think it stinks that my friend isn't receiving ANY of the services she is entitled to. I'm busting my butt for her, but I still carry around all this guilt that she isn't doing well. And The Turnip has been very inconsistent this year. I see her wandering around the building with children, but never actually working with any students. (I'm stumbling as to how to best express my opinions in a professional manner. I'm not THIS in-your-face at work...)

The Weave: Yeah, she's a F***ing mess.

(What?? Did she just drop the F bomb??)

Me: Um, yea?

The Weave: I think she sucks, but she's been walking around this place, taking up space for 20 years trying to get her shit together. I don't think it's gonna happen, so now we just have to wait her out.

Me: Hm.

The Weave: She's just a F***ing mess. And she's so slippery...she spends all her time creating this illusion that she's actually working...if only she put that much effort into the kids.

Me: Right.

And although I am intensely uncomfortable with my administrator's liberal use of the word f*ck in a professional setting, I have a new found respect for The Weave. It's like, on this level, we are kindred spirits....or bitchy spirits. However you want to look at it. In some very strange way (that probably needs the attention of a therapist), I find comfort in the fact that she can acknowledge the train wreck that is The Turnip and, on some level, feels my pain.

However, I also know her well enough to NOT expect her to do anything proactive about it either.

I mean, she DOES have to read the paper.

Tune in for tomorrow....it's the big Sex Talk Day! Yikes!

Happy (Lack Of) Teacher Appreciation Week

2008-05-09T14:53:00.000-07:00

So did YOU know it was teacher appreciation week? 'Cuz I didn't.

"But you're a teacher!" is what I'm sure you are thinking.

And yes, yes I am a teacher. However, it seems as if that alone does not qualify one for participation in this much needed celebration. I guess you also need to teach in the right place at the right time. Or perhaps I've been voted off the island. Either way, this week did feel so celebratory.

Not that it was particularly bad. It was the usual shananigans this week. Which normally, would be bearable....but during Teacher Appreciation week....oh hells no!

And before you go there, no, I am not another teacher complaining about my job. No siree. I will never be "just another teacher."

And before you go to that other dangerous place, it's NOT all about the intrinsic rewards of a child learning something new. Yes, that is lovely, but sometimes you just want a gold sticker for yourself.

I can only speak for myself, but I think there are a lot of other teachers out there who are extremely type A like yours truly. When I was little, I lost my shit for a shiny sticker. And if it was scratch and sniff (or scratch-'n-sniff if you want to be totally correct), well, that was just the motherload. It was a form of praise. Acknowledgement of my achievements. No, wait, PUBLIC acknolwedgement of my achievements. The public part was important. Everyone could observe that I had clearly done something to merit a sticker. And the bigger, shinier and smellier it was, the bigger, smarter and more wonderful your deed must have been. It was like the elementary school equivalent of stuffing your bra or sticking a sock down your pants. It gave you that (false) sense of self-worth.

Today, I liberally apply stickers to my students. On their foreheads, hands, papers, folders...if it stands still, works hard and behaves, I will lavish it with sticker-related praise. And yes, I am the only teacher who hands out the coveted scratch-'n-sniff.

So is it any wonder that I would like a card, a smile, a pat on the back during a week specifically designated for just such activites?

I don't think it is. And really, I don't need a huge gift or catered luncheon (unless you're offering, because then, I'll take it)...but would it really kill the administration to give a specific compliment? Or would it be too much to ask the PTA (who regularly bitches for a larger voice in school politics...evidently this voice is not loud enough or it is not praise-oriented) for a card? Again, I don't think it is.

Let me tell you about the highlights of my days this week:

Monday - The photo copier was broken. In addition to being in located in the furthest reaches of the school...in fact, it may actually be in an "annex" or something...it ate all my paper including my original. Once I wrestled the orignial from the vice-like jaws of said photocopier, I brought my crumpled work to the office where I was told by an aide that I need to learn my place which is evidently no where neat the nicer, newer, functioning copy machine. She neglected to wish me a happy Teacher Appreciation Week.

Tuesday - The Weave came into my classroom to ask if I had any drawings that my class had done after a field trip we had taken to a ballet. Oh, it was a trip we took SIX WEEKS AGO. She didn't understand why I no longer had any of the children's drawings (um, maybe I sent them home with the kids Einstein?) and then demanded that I come up with a class set of ballet trip drawings by the end of the day. Maybe AFTER I rustle up some drawings, she'll wish me a happy Teacher Appreciation Week....

Wednesday - As I sat in my classroom, correcting work on my free period, three mice decided to make an appearance. Yet, perhaps in honor of teacher appreciation week, instead of simply darting across the classroom, they chose to run around on the carpet in an ellaborate dance. Maybe it was just for Teacher Appreciation Week, maybe it was to welcome the new spring weather, maybe it is just becuase my clasroom is now totally infested and they have nowhere else to go.

Thursday - I was treated to a meeting with the Bacon Hunter in which our team was supposed to collaboratively plan our upcoming math lessons. All good, right? You would think so...but then the Bacon Hunter dominated the entire meeting and blew us away with her suggestions. She actually spent our time informing us that we should teach lesson 9.1, then 9.2, follow up with 9.3, move into 9.4 and then (gasp) end the week with lesson 9.5. Seriously, how does she come up with this stuff? It's like she was JUST READING THE MANUAL OUT LOUD. And then she wished us a Happy Teacher Appreciation Week...no, she didn't, she just continued counting by ones.

Friday - I avoided most of the adults I work with like the plague, only allowing myself contact with my colleagues who are lovely, hard working and make me smile. I threw myself into the day and decided that I would wish myself a happy Teacher Appreciation Week by having a fabulous and enjoyable day with my kids. At the end of the day, Curly came up to me and said, "Thanks for the compliment you gave me during Writers Workshop today, Mrs. Mimi. I've learned so much from you this year."

(sigh)

And there's my teacher appreciation.

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby, Let's Talk About You And Me...

2008-05-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be.

Although I'd rather not.

Why?

Because talking about sex, lesbianism and rape with eight year old children just seems wrong. I mean, make your own parenting decisions, but to me, not something I ever thought I would be talking about in school when I signed up as an early elementary school teacher. They (and I'm not sure who I mean by they except for someone more powerful and all-knowing than myself) should warn you at the door as you try to skip inside with bags full of stickers and rainbow dreams.

As I have said before, it is NOT all flowers and sausages people.

At this point, you may be thinking, "What the F is she talking about? Sex? Lesbianism? Sausages?

But you're intrigued, right? Don't act like you're not.

I am talking about the latest dilemma in my life as a teacher. Recently, there has been a lot of dirty talk on the playground. I am a firm believer of " a time and place for everything" (am I right, ladies??) but I do not think that recess is the time, nor do I believe that the playground is the place to be discussing things of this nature. Why, oh why aren't they talking about crayons, freeze tag and Popsicles? Because I'm pretty sure that that was my repertoire of conversation as a child.

Here are some examples of the recent "dirty talk":

"Your mom has sex on you."

"You want to have sex on your uncle."

"All lesbians have sex in bathrooms."

"He is going to rape on you."

And the ever popular "Your pussy smells."

Whoever came up with the phrase "from the lips of children" never hung out on the playground at recess evidently. Or possibly was referring to another group of children.

I just don't get it. They are so sweet. I really and truly love this class. And not phony Little Miss Sunshine I Have To Love My Class Because That Is What Teachers Are Supposed To Say crap...I mean, I will honestly be sad on the last day of school. For the first time in a long time, I will not run skipping down the hall, cheering and hugging everyone in sight after the last child has left (hate to burst your bubble, but that's REALLY what teachers do on the last day of school). Over the summer, while sipping on a cool fruity beverage complete with a small umbrella, I will smile when I recall the funny things they said and the fun we had together.

And then I'll remember the dirty talk.

When I was their age (I walked up hill both ways...) the boys were infested with cooties, NOBODY could shake their booty in time with the music and we NEVER discussed a foul bodily odor other than the occasional fart. So, I guess farting was the most risque topic we covered. Farting and perhaps, just perhaps, we would try out a curse word or two. But we certainly did not discuss lesbianism, nor do I think I had ever even heard of rape. The whole notion of french kissing was still up for debate.

In sum, we were not this knowledgeable.

(By the way, I NEVER thought I would talk like this...seriously, I sound like my mom when she regales me with tales of her childhood. I totally promised myself that I would refrain from starting sentences with phrases such as "When I was little...." or "In my day..." I have sadly let myself down and have fallen down that slippery slope. All of which probably means that I am (sigh) old.)

(I also never thought that I would be preparing a lesson on "dirty talk" for my early elementary class. Or would be forced to pee in a bathroom infested with mice, but that's another story.)

It's too late now though. It's out there and no one can take it back. It's not like when they accidentally call me "mom" and then blush furiously as we both pretend it didn't happen. Or when they let a fart fly on the carpet in the middle of a read aloud and we all try our darndest to ignore it. ( I just realized that I have brought up farting at least three times in this post...what does THAT mean?)

No, it's out there and I have to deal with it. I can't have them using these words and thinking it's OK to use them in these ways. And, clearly they are exposed to these ideas somewhere and I can't let them be filled with all this misinformation, right? So I have teamed up with one of my colleagues and we are going to do a whole little talk on Words They Hear On The Playground That Make Them Uncomfortable and discuss the proper time to think and talk about those things. We are also going to write a letter home to parents explaining the entire situation and reassuring them that this Little Talk will not turn into Sex Ed.

This last minute, reactionary change in schedule is going to replace my previously planned lesson on place value.
Granted, sex talk is probably more interesting than debating how to use tens and ones, but somehow, I'm not looking forward to it.

So for any of you out there who STILL think this job is a cake walk, who STILL believe that all I do is finger paint and lead sing-a-longs, and who STILL insist that small children are just adorable - put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Although, I secretly wish that we COULD just sing-a-song and finger paint it away.

Walking With Curly

2008-04-26T14:07:00.001-07:00

It's almost my version of "Tuesdays with Morrie"...but slightly less inspirational.

(Scene: It's approximately 8:03a.m. I have just picked up my class from the cafeteria and Curly is the line leader. I love it when Curly is the line leader. Although, to be clear, I don't have favorites. Yes, I do. No, I don't. I totally do and he is it. We are walking up the stairs together, one of my favorite times to chat).

Me: Hey Curly.

Curly: Hey Mrs. Mimi. ( eyes shining with a new discovery) Did you know that two lines means you're pregnant and one line means you're not?

Me: Uh....well, yes, I suppose I did know that. What I want to know is how do YOU know that?

Curly: We all sat in the bathroom last night while my mom peed on the stick. And there were two lines. I'm gonna be a big brother...Holla!

(No, I am not embellishing. He said, "Holla!" Can you see why I totally love this kid?)

Me: Wow, that's pretty exciting. But, does your mom know that you're telling people? Sometimes moms want to keep that private for a little while.

Curly: She should have thought about that before she made us all watch her with the stick.

I suppose he has a point.

I'm Ba-aaack!

2008-04-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

So, for the many of you who expressed concern at my absence, thank you. And for those of you who said you missed my stories, thank you too. I missed myself also. Where have I been? I have been strung out. Just plain old strung out, and I have missed this so much....it even hurts to write about all of it. And I promised myself that I would keep my blog about SCHOOL (or bitching about school) rather than my life in general (or bitching about my life..)

In fact, all of this has resulted in one of the most impressive To Do Lists of all time. And, if you happen to know me personally, you know I loves me a good list...especially one with multiple categories or some nice color coding. I practically drool as I input all of this lovely organizational goodness into my new found joy - the iTouch. However, even this list intimidated me, the List Lover. If I'm honest, I will admit that it sent me into a catatonic state at times...and at other times it rendered me a raving lunatic. Sexy, right?

And on my long commutes home, as I frantically tried to manage my dwindling time effectively, I began to get angry. Very angry. I mean, just how far can the proverbial buck be passed?? And just how many times am I going to be there to accept it???! I figure, that if I had one dollar for every "buck" that was passed my way, I would no longer have to work. Ever. Again.

Let me give you a few examples....

Buck #1:

We get back from a field trip (you know how I feel about field trips). It was a great time, but I have not eaten or peed in like 10 hours despite providing time for all my students to engage in those activities. We are 10 minutes late for music (which would be my free prep period and a blessed opportunity to scarf down a PB and J and pee....again, sexy, yes?). We run into the music teacher in the hallway.

Me: Oh great! I'll bring them right up!!
Him: Huh?
Me: It's our music time and I really could use a few minutes to use the ladies room and eat my lunch. I'll bring them...
Him : (interrupting me....jerk!) Yea, I don't feel like it anymore and it's too late now.
Me: (Where to begin....) Um, I'm not sure it's really about 'what you feel like doing.' I
Him: They're your class, you deal with it. Teachers are so prep-hungry.

Oh no he didn't!!!!!

But unfortunately, yes he did. And in front of my little friends, I could not spew forth the profanities that were brewing in my mind. Instead, I sighed, crossed my legs and went upstairs.

Buck #2:

It is the morning of our field trip. (Why do I put myself through this?) The Weave has planned this trip so I should have known that some serious buck-passing was about to occur. Sure enough.

Ring!! I answer the phone. She asks me if I remembered to order the lunches from the cafeteria. I say no, because I did not plan the trip. She says that there are no lunches. I ask her what we are supposed to do without lunches for 80 children. She tells me to work it out.

No wonder they pay her more.

Buck #3:

A few of the teachers talk to the principal about all the fighting that is happening at recess. We express our concern that the lunch aides are reading the paper rather than monitoring children. We remind him of the angry parents who have also screamed their concern. He suggests that we handle recess ourselves rather than pick on the aides.

Perfect. The dollars just keep piling up, don't they?

Buck #4....or do I even need to go on....

And you wondered why I took such a long break.

(Just FYI, I won't do that again until the end of the year. I swear.)

You Are What You Eat...

2008-03-25T18:09:00.000-07:00

...Unless Your Parents Are Idiots And Send You To School With the Most Disgusting and Unhealthy Lunch EVER!

Phew! That title was a bit long. But oh so accurate.

We went on a trip today. I love trips!!

Yes, I know they are physically and mentally exhausting. Yes, I know that the screaming on the bus reaches near deafening levels. Yes, I know that every one gets so excited that they can barely control themselves. And yes, I know there is never a man around yet there are an entire group of boys who need to pee which means standing outside the bathroom and yelling empty threats until they come out. It means complaining. And long lines. And other school groups who seem to be led by rude and obnoxious adults who encourage their class to push. Yes, yes, yes, I KNOW all that...

Wait a minute...I lost my train of thought. Let's see. I like field trips...because....um, well...now that I think about it...hmmm.

I love field trips because it always reminds me of just how young and sweet my friends are. I love bringing them places and seeing them excited about learning.

See? And you thought I couldn't come up with anything good.

We were having a fabulous time. Fabulous! And then it was time for lunch. We sit down and open up our lunches. This is always very exciting for the kids. Almost all of them get free-and-reduced school lunch (read "dogfood and prison grade meat") and so the experience of eating a lunch that their parents lovingly put together/bought for them is a big freakin' deal. I know. I don't really get it either.

Anyway, my friends are starting to eat and I'm frantically running around twisting caps, opening bags and inserting straws (those Capri suns are no joke!). I then start to monitor what everyone has, preparing to enforce my Sandwich First law. I get to one of my friends and notice that she is already eating her chips.

"Honey, you need to eat your sandwich first."

"I don't have one."

"Well, what do you have?"

She shows me a bag of Doritos, a bag of Cheesy Poofs and a big bottle of Blue Sugary Liquid masquerading as "juice."

WTF??

She tells me that is all her mother bought her. Her mom was in a hurry.

Hold on. I've been in a hurry too and grabbed a yogurt. Or a PB and J. My mom worked full time and raised me on her own, yet somehow I always managed to have a lunch that didn't come exclusively from the Fats and Oils sections of the food pyramid.

And it's not a money thing because those bags of chips are like $1.99 each...and if you have two bags, that's about $4. At the corner store closest to my school you can get a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water for $4.50. I know because that is what I brought on the trip today.

I promptly gave my little friend half.

If There's Tension And You Know It, Clap Your Hands...

2008-03-21T07:04:00.001-07:00

CLAP! CLAP!

Maybe it's just that time of year, but doesn't seem like every year that once spring comes, patience and positive attitudes go? Everyone is SO ANNOYED with everyone else (and no, I'm not talking about the kids, I'm talking about the numerous adults that I want to snap in half).

Example #1:

The vice principal sends a snippy-pants email to everyone demanding that we update our substitute packets in the office stating that it is unfair to "dump" children on our colleagues without work to do when we are absent.

Um, pardon me, but isn't the administration that is doing the actual "dumping" without notice rather than getting a sub or (gasp) putting together a schedule in which the out of the classroom teachers cover the absent teacher during their MULTIPLE free periods a day?

And, just another small point, I do seem to remember having students "dumped" on me without a sub packet on many occasions despite my personal knowledge that said teacher did leave a packet of work behind. And when I asked the administration for a copy of that packet, I was told (and I quote), "I am not dealing with that. It's your problem."

Of course it is.

Example #2:

I am sitting in a committee meeting. We meet every month. We are supposed to do something. My colleague, who was absent for four months on maternity leave, was shocked to see that in four months time, we had accomplished absolutely nothing. That in fact, we were having the same argument we were having four months ago.

Perhaps that is because our meetings are run by an outsider from a near by college. A "facilitator" who is charged with "keeping us on track" because clearly as adults in possession of multiple advanced degrees, we can not be expected to facilitate ourselves.

Way to go sister friend, way to facilitate that progress.

Example #3:

I am mid-brilliant mini lesson. Seriously, I should have been taping this...kids are engaged, turning and talking with their partners and my teaching point is oh-so-relevant. (Side note, I have never been that afraid of tooting my own horn).

I am about to utter the words that will pull all of their thinking together, magically connecting it to their work when....

RRRRIIINNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!!!

WTF?

RRRRIIIIINNNNGGGGGG!!!

Is that the phone?

RRRRRIIINNNNGGGGG!!!!

Oh, someone had better be on fire for this to be a worthwhile interruption....

"Hello?"

"This the nurse." (I'm not kidding...her statement was totally lacking a verb).

"Yes?"

"I need a phone number."

"They are in the office filed under my class number."

"I don't want to get up and walk there."

(Are you kidding me?)

"Well, I don't to stop doing my job just so I can start doing yours. Check the office."

CLICK.

"I'm so sorry friends, as I was saying...today, we are , um... (damn! I have lost my train of thought! What was I teaching?? Oh yeah)....so today, when you go back to your seats, I want you to..."

RRRRIIINNNGGGGG!

(I am so going to kill this woman).

RRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG!!!

"Aren't you going to answer that Mrs. Mimi?"

(Oh, I'll answer it sweetheart.)

(Through gritted teeth) "Hello?"

"Ya, this is Mrs. Copylady. Your copies done."

"Ok....I'll pick them up when I drop the kids off for lunch. Thank you"

"No. You need to pick them up now."

"But I'm in the middle of a lesson."

"Now."

(Is she freaking serious??!?? )

"I can't, I have kids."

"Send one of them."

"You want me to send a child to pick up the copies? I put in copies for the whole grade for an entire unit."

"Yea, it's like 500 copies."

"And you want me to send a small child, who is supposed to be reading, to pick them up. And why is this so urgent?"

"Because they're done."

(I suppose you'd like me to send down a cookie or small trophy with the child as well?)

My list could go on and on for days, because sadly, we all want to kill each other right now. Thank goodness for holiday weekends.

CLAP! CLAP!

If You Can't Handle The Heat....

2008-03-18T18:17:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well. Juicy, juicy, juicy.

Every week, I am required to meet with the Bacon Hunter so that I can "collaborate with her and improve upon my practice" (read "explain to her the curriculum because, ironically, she's never taught it herself").

Needless to say, it is not the highlight of my week. Although I have to admit that this year has been better (in other words, she keeps her mouth shut more this year).

The hour of doom was almost upon me when I received the most mysterious phone call in my classroom (remind me to tell you sometime about the "joys" of having a phone in the classroom).

Bacon Hunter: "Mmmmmm, hi. I need to cancel our meeting today."

Me: "Oh (YAYAYAYAYYYYYYY!!!!!), ah-hem, why?"

BH: "I have a lot of work to do. You may not have noticed, but we gave the math test last week."

Me: "Oh, because you were assessing, you can't meet with us?"

BH: "I'm swamped."

Me: "Oh, so you're swamped with outside assessments? In addition to what you're already expected to do? That must be hard." (insert sarcastic tone here)

BH: "Mmmmm-hmmmmm"

Me:"Should I let everyone else know that since you are assessing, that you can't meet and then maybe they can catch up with all THEIR additional work, since, you know, WE usually don't get to cancel meetings because of our other responsibilities."

BH: "Look, I have a lot on my plate"

Me: "Yea, I know. I can't imagine having to work from 8 to 3 without a break and then to take work home. Oh, wait a minute, yes I can."

BH: "I have to go."

Me: "Hey, did that mom ever catch up with you about the tests?"

CLICK.

Hmmmmm. Verrrrry interesting.

I have some theories about her absence from our meeting (and my sudden freedom to catch up on MOUNDS of papers).

Theory #1 - She smelled bacon cooking and had to go for it.

Theory #2 - The administration of the math tests required her to put in more than two hours of consecutive work and rudely disrupted her usual schedule of coffee, bacon, coffee, water break, take up space in meeting, lunch, waste people's time, online shop, pack up and go home. I mean, c'mon, can our principal really expect her to work from 8 to 3 and then possibly take stuff home?? Wait a minute....

Theory #3- My parent DID meet up with her and she is ashamed of herself.

You pick.

I Pity the Fool

2008-03-15T07:46:00.000-07:00

Ah, and the Bacon Hunter strikes again. This last year has been so much better and so different from my previous experiences with her as a "staff developer" (read "raging waste of space"). Perhaps all the negative commentary and ground standing got through and she decided to slow her role this year. Whatever. I don't care. She has been far less irritating.

And then.... (C'mon, you knew that was coming didn't you? Like I would post a glowing review of her or something. Please!)

In the spirit of Extreme Standardized Testing, we have decided to test the living daylights out of small children who haven't even reached an official testing grade yet. I know, it's awesome (insert sarcastic tone here, and maybe a small tear running down my cheek). And the Bacon Hunter developed a whole NEW test that not only duplicates some of the findings of old tests and impacts my instruction in no way at all, she has also found a way to make the test a degrading experience for teachers too. Jackpot, right?

Let me explain. She decided that we needed ANOTHER math test which was catered only to the state standards for our grade (keep in mind that we are already assessing children on these standards about four hundred other ways that are more authentic and telling than a pen to paper test). We are mandated (read bitch-slapped if we don't comply) to give this assessment about once a month. So not only is it unnecessary, it's basically omni-present. As icing on the cake, she also demands (read wields her non-existent authority) that we turn the completed test in to her so SHE can grade them.

Because I can't draw the hands on a clock correctly.

Or add double digit numbers.

Or measure a straight line to the nearest inch.

I mean, you all know that teachers are only as smart as the grade they teach and since I teach a lower grade....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Are you kidding me? I can't correct my own students WORK? So not only do you waste my/our time by insisting that we engage in this ridiculousness, you also insult my intelligence and maintain your position as a raging jerk off.

Sah-weet.

Fast foward to parent/teacher conferences. The Bacon Hunter has corrected and photo-copied the most recent Assessment Of Nothing that she has created and has once again demanded (read snarled) that it be distributed to parents during conferences.

"And I will be checking up on you."

Because again, I am no smarter than or more responsible than the children I teach.

In the spirit of Being Positive in 2008, I have decided not to fight this battle. ( OK, in all honesty, I fought this battle tooth and nail last year and lost. Stupid teacher, I should remember my place. At the bottom. )

I am in the middle of a conference with the second parent of the night when I dutifully hand out the test. A particularly motivated and concerned parent (Yes, friends, they are out there and I heart them) took the time to look through the test.

Something which I had failed to do because I was also dispensing reams of my own much more useful student work to parents. Oops.

Her: "Mrs. Mimi, why was this marked wrong?"
Me, looking at the paper and seeing that the child has written 6 x 3 = 18 in response to a number story. Which is correct.
Me: "Uuuhhhhh...I'm not sure."
Her: "Didn't you correct this test?"
Me: (shit) "No."
Her: "Who did?"
Me: "Our math specialist."
Her: "And isn't this also correct?"
Me, looking at the paper once again, seeing 22 + 15 = 37, which is, yet again, correct.
Me: " Um, yes it is."
Her: "Actually it looks like my son should have gotten several of these marked correct."
Me: "Yes, it does."
Her: "What does your math specialist do with the results of this test?"
Me: "She graphs the information for the entire grade and then it is placed in the kids' permanent records."
Her: "And it's incorrect?"
Me: "Um, yes. Again, I'm very sorry. Please know that I plan instruction and grade your child based on assessments I create, assign and grade myself, more than I look at this kind of data. While it is required, I rely more on the notes I take as children are actually engaged in math work."
Her: "I am sure that you do. I have a lot of confidence in your work. My son has been making a lot of progress this year. But don't you think I should bring these errors on the part of your math specialist to the attention of the principal? I mean, this is more than just one mistake. "
Me: "Yes, yes I do think he would be interested. Let me walk you down to his office."

Is it wrong that I smiled from ear to ear the entire walk down the stairs?

I Love Smart People

2008-03-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

This week is Parent-Teacher Conferences week. This week brings with it many small joys such as The Joy Of Plastering A Smile On My Face For Three Hours As I Tell You That Your Child Is Consistently Showing Little To No Effort, or The Joy of Watching You Refuse to Discipline Your Child in Productive Ways and finally, The Joy of Acting Like It Doesn't Piss Me Off When You Answer Your Cell Phone In the Middle Of Our Conference While Other Parents Wait in the Hall.

So much joy...I almost don't know how to contain myself. Yet somehow I manage.

And then, the most unexpected and lovely Joy walked into my classroom and it's official. I have a Teacher Crush.

Just to clarify - a Teacher Crush is not like a I Think You're Hot Crush...no, no, no. It's much more nerdy than that. (Besides, I have a fabulously gorgeous husband who is the love of my life...I need not look any further in that department). It's more like a crush on someone who is just so damn brilliant and good at their job. This inspirational teacher who just has this way of looking at things that you want to emulate. This person doesn't even really need to be a man, just someone fabulous.

Teaching in an elementary school can just be sad sometimes. It's really just a building brimming with women. Women and thanklessness.

And it's like a ray of sunshine when in walks your Crush, full of praise, and great constructive ideas.

My needy little dialogue went something like this:

Me: "Hi, how are you?? Thanks for coming in today."
Him: "I loved your mini-lesson. It was short and to the point and really got them started."
Me: (big, goofy smile)
Him: "And the children seem really engaged."
Me: (bigger, goofier smile)
Him: "I really like how independent the children seem in the room. It's a great space."

And like my big fat cat who just stares up at me, allowing me to pet her, I stared at my Teacher Crush with wide eyes soaking in all the praise.

How sad am I? Think we need a little more encouragement? Or positive reinforcement? Kids aren't the only ones who need a sticker every once in awhile.

If You're Gonna Spew, Spew Into This...

2008-03-01T06:35:00.001-08:00

Once we put vacation behind us, I also thought that we could put flu season behind us as well. I know, you're probably at home shaking your head at me and thinking, "you silly girl...when are you going to realize that you have chosen to work in an incubus of germ and snot?"

I guess sometimes I like to think that after years of hard work, and multiple advanced degrees that maybe, just maybe, my work place is somewhere that welcomes dry clean only pants and doesn't insist on giving me hideous ailments such as ringworm (oh yes...I said ringworm), the flu and snot-caked pants. But alas, pee, runny noses and wadded up tissues are my life.

Now, let's not get it twisted. While I have resigned myself to dealing with SOME aforementioned bodily fluids, there are still some that I prefer to keep out of the classroom. Such as puke, barf, boot...whatever you like to call it. And for some reason, the kids puke ALL THE TIME. I do not remember so much puke in my elementary school years. I chalk it up to the declining quality of cafeteria food combined with a steady diet of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for breakfast.

Usually there is a warning when someone is about to blow chunks. They will raise their hand with their other hand clutched across their mouth. Or start to dry heave. Or just run out of the classroom and I assume it had to be pretty urgent.

Friday a little girl calmly raised her hand (which shows she was listening when we talked about how screaming doesn't get things done any faster...) and said, "Mrs. Mimi, I need to hurl."

To which I replied, "Do you think you can make it?"

She nods her head yes, and with my blessing is soon off to boot all over the bathroom. When she returns, she looks pretty foul. I decide that she doesn't look ready to puke-and-rally (a term I'm sure many of you are familiar with from the college years..) and send her to the nurse with a friend. I scribble out a note on a nearby post it and send the girls on their way.

Several minutes later the girls return and Pukey Patty looks a bit worse for wear.

"Mrs. Mimi, we went to the nurse's office but she said we needed to come back to class to get an Official Pass."

"What?! An Offical Pass??!?" (insert an incredulous tone dripping with moderate sarcasm here)

"Yes. She said you should know better than to send her a note on regular paper."

"Let me get this straight. You handed her my note about Patty and she sent you back to class??"

"Yes."

"Is Pukey Patty ok?? She doesn't look so good.."

"She threw up again. But the nurse told us to leave, so I took her to the bathroom to do it."

"Ah, I see."

I sent the two girls back down to the nurse's office after digging up an Official Pass.

Ten minutes later, the girls returned once again.

"What's the problem now??"

"The nurse says Patty isn't really sick enough. She wrote you a note."

"Let me see it."

I DO NOT HAVE THE FACILITIES TO HANDLE CHILDREN THAT ARE NOT REALLY SICK. PLEASE HANDLE YOUR STUDENTS YOURSELF.

Oh no she didn't.

About thirty seconds after I finished reading the nurse's absolutely ridiculous note, Patty barfed again. A lot. But my poor little friend managed to make it to the trash can. She's such a good girl.

Then, despite some better judgement, I sent Pukey Patty and her friend back down to the nurse for a third time. This time they carried the trash can full of boot with them. They also carried a note:

IS SHE SICK ENOUGH NOW?

And wouldn't you know it...but my little helper came back to class alone and poor Pukey Patty mercifully got to go home.

Just Learn To Balance A Ball On Your Nose, And We'll Call It A Day

2008-02-25T16:17:00.000-08:00

Today was our first day back together after our winter break. And while I absolutely contemplated poking myself in the eye when my alarm went off at 5 a.m., I was happy to see my friends today. They are just so damn cute.

Now if I'm honest with you, I'll admit that I carried home all kinds of projects - my planner, upcoming units, chapter books, math manuals...you name it, I gave myself some scoliosis carrying it home last Friday. And then I promptly carried my load up to my office where it remained untouched for the entire vacation.

Are you judging me yet?

I rationalized it by telling myself that it was more important for me to catch up on my own studies and to spend my time rejuvenating.

I am now rejuvenated. Check.

Here is my other reason/rationalize/stop-judging-me:

This week is Assembly Week. (insert ominous music here)

Yes, my friends and I must jump through flaming hoops in front of the entire school this Friday. THIS FRIDAY!!!! That is just five short days to teach, rehearse and beat a program into their little heads. And despite all of our pleading and many well argued emails, the administration won't change the date. They just can't wait another week to see my little friends dance.

Those of you who work in schools may already know that Assemblies are NOT about actual learning. We are in NO WAY showing off our newly acquired knowledge. We are NOT aiming to teach anything or give our students a platform to shine. Oh no. That would make way too much sense.

Assemblies are really about man-handling your class to sing and dance like trained seals by any means possible - even means that you would NEVER consider bringing into your classroom. That's right. I yell my face off during Assembly Week. And while it never strays into screaming (because I just can't do that), it does meander into the slightly scary realm.

Again, I'm just being honest.

So keep your fingers crossed and maybe even send me a whistle (I could use it to deafen them into submission). I am about to spend a week abandoning my role as "teacher" and assuming the role of Nazi Assembly Master.

I can feel the rejuvenation slowly slipping away.

I miss teaching.

Don't Mess With the Best, Cuz the Best Don't Mess

2008-02-11T17:26:00.001-08:00

So, by a show of hands, how many other teachers out there worry sometimes that they are working with some real idiots?? Anyone? Or am I all alone on this one?? Seriously, I find it scary sometimes how some of the most basic things I teach (telling time and using a calendar to be specific) are so darn challenging for so many adults. (sigh) Perhaps they need to join my morning meeting and routinely get their minds ready for the day because whatever they're morning routine is currently, it just ain't workin'.

Let me explain. Tomorrow is... (drumroll) Picture Day! Tah-dah! You remember picture day, don't you? You wait in an endless line in your school's gym/auditorium/cafeteria just waiting to get to the table so that you can claim your sketchy little black plastic comb. And then you sit on the stool with your feet placed awkwardly out in front of you while some strange adult adjusts your head to the most ridiculous, uncomfortable and unnatural angle humanly possible...is it coming back yet? Well, I get to repeat that joy each and every year with my class. Yes, I too often wonder how this is my job as I stand in that line.

This year, we received the schedule for picture day last Thursday. And, despite lunch having been at the same time for at least the last six years, our pictures were scheduled to be taken during lunch.

Of course they were.

So I write a lovely note back, biting my tongue and holding back my vicious pen, informing the idiot, I mean, my colleague, that unfortunately we were scheduled to have our pictures taken during our lunch period and explain why that will not work for us. I lovingly place the note in said person's mailbox and go about my business.

Fast forward to today. One day before pictures. Three business days after I have placed the note in the idiot's box.

No new schedule.

I wait until mid-day and check again.

Still no schedule.

I guess I can understand the delay as this individual's other responsibilities include....um....well...now that I think about it, I'm not sure what else this person does. Despite seeing this person on a regular basis, I've never actually witnessed them doing any real work. Unless you count the numerous memos that are sent home riddled with type-os. If you count those, then yes, it is possible that this idiot is overworked.

I decide to call this person (who has an office while, by the way, I am not even allowed to have a DESK much less an entire office because my space is supposed to be all about the children which makes me feel oh so valued). In my sweetest voice possible I ask:

"Have you had a moment to work out the new schedule for tomorrow?"

She replies with a surly, "You'll get it by the end of the day."

In my dulcet tones, I reply, "Ah, thank you. But I'm trying to get ready for tomorrow right now...could you please just let me know when my class will be visiting the photographer so I can write it into my plans?"

She snarls, "12:00".

Ever so delicately I say, "But that is during our gym period. I'm fairly certain that our schedule is posted in plain view in the office downstairs too...I am not actually with the class then."

CLICK.

(insert sound of screeching brakes here)

Whoah.

Did she just hang up on me??

As the rage builds inside of me, I swallow it, pushing it down to that place where all teachers store their frustrations so that they can smile and be amazing educators despite the sometimes insurmountable idiocy and incapability that surrounds them. And as I push that rage deeper, I find comfort in my new plan to take each memo she sends out to be distributed to parents and picture myself joyously correcting every single one of her absolutely embarrassing grammatical errors with bright red pen. And I smile, as I imagine placing the edited copy anonymously in my principal's mailbox so that he may also bask in the glory of others inadequacies.

Why not share the wealth??

You Can Pick Your Friends, And You Can Pick Your Nose, But You Can't Pick Your Friend's Nose

2008-02-05T17:38:00.000-08:00

I'm lucky, because this year my kids are rockstars. Although, at times, I have to admit that all the social drama going on this year is a bit new to me. In previous years, we fought and tattled on each other but I never really experienced the intricate dramas or social coups that are currently blossoming in my classroom. Before it was, "He looked at me!" or "He farted!". Now don't get me wrong, we still throw around accusations when someone lets one fly on the carpet, but we spice it up a bit with note passing, behind-the-back B.S. and ostrasizing those who aren't the most popular. I am slowly navigating that delicate balance between allowing them to work out their own problems and negotiate their own friendships and being the raging dictator that preys on jerks and rips them new ones.

Many of you were horrified by the parent who threatened to shave her daughter's head after her daughter forged a signature (see Crime and Punishment below because I'm too damn lazy to make it a link...) I too was horrified. And continue to be horrified that girfriend still has not got her self together. I mean, dude, you could be bald if I write one more note home...

I did get some juicy back story about that whole situation though...juicy juicy tales of second grade manipulation.

SO....

For the sake of this story, we will refer to the friend in my class as Close Call for obvious reasons.

There is another little second grade friend in the class next door. We'll call her Not So Lucky. Not So Lucky 's teacher sent a note home one day after Not So Lucky had spent the entire day being disruptive. Rather than show the note to her parents, Not So Lucky forged her parent's signature. Long story short, mom found out and Not So Lucky got her head shaved. Bald. Totally bald. So you can see why I am calling her Not So Lucky, yes?

A sidenote...the worst thing my mom did to me when I was little was to stand me in the corner. That's it. Just the corner. I stood in the corner in full possession of my hair. Granted, she was pissed when I proceeded to peel all the wallpaper off that particular corner, but I still maintained all my hair.

Back to the story. So Close Call gets a note home (from yours truly) a few days later. She confides in Not So Lucky that she is scared to show it to her mom. (Should have thought about that before you decided to pass in crap work and roll your eyes at other adults, friend.) Not So Lucky tells her to forge her mom's signature.

Ok, hold on.

Close Call has been lazy lately, but she's a smart girl...or at least I thought she was.

Why would you listen to your friend who got her head shaved after she forged her own mother's signature when she tells you to do the same thing?

I mean, duh!

Although you have to give Not So Lazy props for the sophisticated social manipulation. Maybe she's secretly working to make bald the new cool hairstyle for girls. You know, all big earrings and scarves? Very Samantha from season 6 of Sex and the City??

Highly doubt it...you got played Close Call!

I feel old as I am about to say this (and a bit like my mom) but I think it's appropriate....Close Call, if your friend jumped off a bridge would you do it too??

And hopefully, this is the end of that story.

Update....

2008-02-02T05:55:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the lack of updates friends. I have been STRUNG OUT!!

But before I continue complaining,

she

has

hair.

Phew. Did not want to deal with that one. Mom said she couldn't do it in the end. Thank goodness. And guess what? Girfriend is still being lazy and handing me crap work. Go figure. If my mom threatened to shave me bald when I was little, I might, you know, get my shite together.

I am about to give you yet another excuse for my lack of posting. I feel as if I owe it to you....I don't want you to stop reading. But I'm also starting to feel like that mom who excuses the crap out of everything and is slowly creating a totally incapable person.

A little over a week ago, a very close friend of mine had something very tragic happen in her family. She reads this from time to time so I will spare details in the interest of her privacy. Needless to say, nothing seems that big a deal, worth complaining about or all that funny when you know your close friend is dealing with something truly awful. Hopefully she will be back to work soon, because I miss her. This job is so hard at times, and I feel so lucky to work with some of the people that I do. When the Weave strikes or Mr. Big White Guitar does too much close talking, I rely on the friendships I have developed with some of my close colleagues.

But I am sure that it won't be long before something absolutely unfathomable happens and I'll be back.

For real.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Crime and Punishment

2008-01-25T15:26:00.000-08:00

In the past I have blogged about those parents who just allow their kids to be losers. In fact, there are some parents who basically promote their child's future loser-dom by excusing them out of any shred of responsibility. Needless to say, I do NOT heart those parents. As I am writing these words, I am picturing one parent in particular who has been known to say, "but how important is it that he learn to read?"

Um, pretty freaking important.

(sigh)

However, today, I came in contact with the exact opposite type of parent. I spoke with the Overzealous Parent and witnessed their somewhat disturbing rant at the barely humane hour of 8 a.m.

Just a note to self...do not party like a rock star in Vegas and then come back to work expecting to be coherent or remotely intelligent. It was not my best week ever.

Some background:

Over the last few weeks I have one friend who has been handing me sub-par work filled with avoidable mistakes. She is rushing through everything and just being lazy in general. I have had both of her cousins who are AMAZING students and up until recently, my current friend has also been a good student. She and I have several conversations about "doing your best" and "taking pride in your work" and "working carefully"...you know, the usual BS pep talks.

Now I normally give a pretty mean pep talk that borders on ( well, I'll just say it) inspirational. Seriously, I'm good. However, this time, my words meant nothing. My friend continued to hand in crap.

And this was not the week to hand me crap. Let's just say my patience was left floating in a cocktail in Vegas.

So I decided to send a note home to mom knowing that my friend has dilligent parents with a high regard for education. Problem solved, right?

Yikes.

Mom comes in today to apologize for her daughter... and then proceeds to rip my friend a new asshole in front of the whole class. At this point, I'm still cool with the whole situation. While it is embarrassing to be reamed out in front of your friends, I also think that sometimes you need to feel bad about your choices. That might be mean, but hey, I'm honest. Among other things.

But then, mom tells me to not worry, because this will never happen again. She is going to teach her daughter a lesson by SHAVING HER HEAD over the weekend.

What?

Mom then stormed out of the cafeteria and my friend was left sobbing. Now normally, tears don't do much for me, but this time I really felt sorry for her.

Is she really going to get her head shaved?
Is that OK?
Should I do something?
Where do you draw the line with that one??

If she comes in with a shaved head on Monday, I might puke.

This feels darker than most of my posts....sorry....just not sure what to do with this one.

Intense.

Let's Talk A Bit About Accountability, Shall We?

2008-01-07T16:12:00.000-08:00

Where to start with this one...

(deep breath)

Before vacation, my administrator, Ms. Weavilcious (a.k.a. The Weave) (a.k.a. The Moody Bee-atch) (a.k.a. Waste of Administrative Salary)...I could go on forever...and after all you've read about her, you probably could come up with some good ones too. Feel free to share.

But I digress...let's get back on track.

Before vacation, The Weave scheduled appointments with each of us to have a conversation about our upcoming observations / walk-throughs. Fine. We do them every year and honestly, we usually end up having a very nice conversation. Surface-y and fake, but nice.

(A bit of background - For the last three years, The Weave has followed up this meeting by MISSING at least two scheduled observations EACH YEAR. Yeah, she just doesn't show up, doesn't call ahead to tell you she's not going to show up and doesn't follow up with an apology. Instead I have to follow up, reschedule and type up a new lesson. -insert sarcastic tone here - It's awesome. Really. It makes me feel really important and valued. And like my administrator is as on top of things as she expects me to be).

My meeting was scheduled for today. I dutifully go down to her office five minutes early, but the door is closed. I sit and wait, and wait and WAIT as my precious free prep wastes away. A colleague passes by and informs me that The Weave is on the fourth floor in a meeting with our principal. A meeting that she has EVERY WEEK AT THE SAME TIME!!!

WTF??!?!?!

Does she need some basic calendaring or scheduling skills?? Should she start sitting in on my morning meeting and be the Calendar Captain?? Why would you schedule a meeting with a teacher who does not have a free second to PEE when you KNOW YOU HAVE SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE?!?!?!??

I'm glad that I'm being held accountable to teach, accomodate, test and coach twenty children in seven subjects a day, five days a week while simultaneously maintaining relationships with parents and serving as the chair of a committee while SHE can't even KEEP AN APPOINTMENT! Hey, fair is fair, right?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

However, in an effort to Be Positive in 2008 (I'm sorry if this was your resolution too, because I'm slowly starting to realize that it is bullshit...venting is fabulous!), I calmly walk back to my classroom to salvage my last ten minutes of freedom to tidy up my room.

At the end of the day, I receive the an email outlining in what ways I will be held accountable in my classroom.

Here are a few tidbits (complete with her spelling and grammatical errors(And I promise you I'm not making them up.) (Really.) (It's shocking.):

* Rooms should be tidy. Any extra books or papers is considered to be a waist of student space and should be removed.

* Student work folders should be clearly labeled. I shouldn't have to ask you, "Where your folders at?"

* Bulletin boards should be labeled with a title and task card. People needs to know what the works is about.

Do I even need to say it?

IDIOT!!!!!!! HOW ARE YOU IN CHARGE OF ME?!?!?!?!??????

No, I didn't need to say it, but damn, it felt good.

A side note - doesn't it just warm your heart that our focus is on the room's APPEARANCE rather than any actual INSTRUCTION??? Not that my room isn't fab-u-lous with a capital F, but I do think this is a bit much.

Dog and pony show anyone?

Can I be the pony?

(sigh)

That feels better. Back to the whole positive thing...

Here A Penis, There A Penis...Everywhere A...Well, You Know The Rest

2008-01-03T16:14:00.000-08:00

If you are a regular reader of my blog, congratulations.

Was that out loud?

What I meant was, if you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I have some serious field trip woes. From "canceled" buses (a.k.a. no one ordered the damn bus) to administrative "snafus" (read f*ckups)...I have seen it all.

Friends, I have topped them all.

Old Weavalicious is on a art binge. She is all about us making time for art, since we don't have an art teacher...or art supplies. But I guess that's just a technicality. For her.

She's lucky that I happen to LOVE doing art with my class. So I'm more than happy to take advantage of the extra time in our schedule. Evidently, Weavalicious' new flavor of the month is sending us to museums. Which, in theory, is a fabulous idea.

However...

Today we went to a large art museum in our city (Ha ha!! You thought I was going to give away where I teach...). The museum had sent the Weave a map and the corresponding teacher materials outlining a tour that would give children the opportunity to see a variety of animal statues from around the world.

Well, that's not all they had the opportunity to see.

And in all honesty, I can't blame this all on the Weave alone. (gasp) I've been to the museum before, years ago, and if I thought about it, I would have remembered that certain rooms were (from the 8 year old child's perspective of course) simply a field of...

penises.

(Penii?? Hmm....)

Yes, as we walked through the Greek and Roman statues on our way to see a sculpture of a lion, we passed beneath penis after glorious penis. Smooth bare behinds and perky bosoms completed the whole experience.

With one swift, expert "teacher look" (a.k.a. Look O' Death) I silenced the wave of laughter that erupted from my line, forcing my class to walk through the World Of European Penis silently. They all looked like their heads were going to explode.

Before our official stop at the lion, we had a brief chat about how the human body is often considered to be a piece of art and aren't we proud of ourselves that we can appreciate that art like adults, without laughing???

They seemed to pick up what I was putting down.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, although I couldn't help but notice the wide eyes, occasional snorts, and swallowed bursts of laughter as we continued our tour.

And, I'll be damned, when we made our way over to the African art exhibits, they got bigger.

Huh.

A Rookie Mistake

2008-01-02T15:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays everyone!! As you may have noticed, I took a bit of a blogging hiatus over the vacation. But it was worth it because after my first full day back (sigh), I am actually (dare I say it?), feeling happy and re-energized?!?!? Quick, someone knock on wood because who knows how long it will last!!

I probably should have blogged this pre-holidays, but I was NOT feeling energized and refreshed at all as I hysterically attempted to pack gifts, wrapping paper and clothes to visit my in-laws for the holidays. Let's just say I was not filled with holiday cheer...but this little gem was stored in the back of my mind just WAITING to be blogged. It's good.

So, imagine for a moment the day before the holiday break. For those of you who don't teach, it's like keeping a lid on a boiling pot of insanely over-excited crazy people. We are sugared up, sleep deprived, over excited and counting the minutes until the end of the day. We have completed the requisite holiday-non-religious-or-overly-specific craft and are shining with a fresh coat of glue and glitter. Bags are packed, holiday homework packets are passed out and there are STILL fifteen minutes before I can bring them downstairs to be dismissed (damn!). Being FIVE minutes early makes you look on top of your shite, but being FIFTEEN mintues early to the auditorium makes you look like a strung out lazy jerk and you know I'm all about appearances.

And in that fifteen minutes, I made the fatal mistake of agreeing to opening my presents in front of the class.

Keep in mind, I have taught for seven years. I should know better.

Shame on me.

We gather on the carpet. Quite a few children have generously brought me a gift this year. Honestly, I don't expect much and would be very happy with a thoughtful drawing or something, but many of my parents are amazing and have sent something in. I even have one friend who saved his allowance for three weeks to but a gift for me. I mean, COME ON!

We are mid love-fest as I unwrap the usual mugs, scented candles, assorted lotions and soaps. Apparently I smell. But I am choosing not to be offended. Everyone is excited and giggly as I unwrap their gift.

And then I get to a beautifully wrapped shirt box from my friend who we will call Braids. (She always has them). Braids can barely contain herself.

Braids: Open it! Just rip off the paper!
Me: But it's so pretty...
Braids: I picked it out myself. For you...
Me: That's very sweet.
Braids: It's for Mr. Mimi too.

(That was a KEY piece of information. Also remember that she said she picked this out HERSELF.)

I pull out the box, and open the lid as Braids practically pees in her pants because she is so excited....

It's....

(Oh my God!)

(Are you sitting down?)

A BRIGHT RED NIGHTIE AND A BLACK G-STRING!!!!!

I am so serious.

It's OK. Take a moment. I had to.

Me: Wow!! How lovely!
(Which I managed to say as I scramble to put the lingerie back into the box a.s.a.p. so that EVERYONE doesn't have the opportunity to bask in this gift's inappropriate glory.)

Braids: My mom says you can use it to have babies.

Oh dear.

I guess it's the thought that counts?

A Quick Meme...my mind is blank

2007-12-21T15:14:00.000-08:00

My friend over at Have a Gneiss Day just tagged me for a meme. Ah, I feel the holiday love. The rules are that I have to give seven random facts about myself and then tag seven random blog-friends to share in the love too.

Random tidbit #1:
Apples make me burp. Loudly.

Random tidbit #2:
I heart the Golden Girls and Wheel Of Fortune...I TiVo them everyday. Seriously. EVERY DAY. I'm still waiting for Pat to call me Wheel Watcher ID...

Random tidbit #3:
I know everything there is to know about Lucille Ball.

Random tidbit #4:
One of my dreams is to open an animal refuge for older (or baby) animals that are unwanted, injured and abandoned. Right now, in my mind, it's mostly cats and dogs but I'm open to suggestions...except guinea pigs. They freak me out. Is that a random fact in and of itself?

Random tidbit #5:
I am half freaked out/half can't-wait to turn 30.

Random tidbit #6:
I met my husband while studying abroad ten years ago. We had a "no strings attached" kind of thing (if you know what I mean...wink, wink) that somehow, ended up with some serious strings. And I couldn't be happier.

Random tidbit #7:
I am afraid to wash my face when I am home alone...something about someone sneaking up behind me that I just can't get past...

So there you are. Do you feel closer to me than ever?? I feel closer to myself...and I'm stoked that I don't have to craft a horribly clever post (I have a doozy coming friends) because I am sick as a dog on the first official night of vacation. In my world, kids SUCK right now.

I tag....Ok...I tag no one (sorry!!) because I have to catch a flight to see the in-laws. Have a great holiday everyone!

Not a sub for as far as the eye can see....

2007-12-17T14:57:00.000-08:00

Or...Why Don't I Make Up My Damn Mind - Do I Want PD Or Not??

Last alternative title for this post: The Last Minute Adventures of The Weave

Today I had yet another professional development session scheduled for this morning. Again, I would be missing two periods of instruction (which makes a total of 38 missed periods in the month of December alone). I dutifully create sub plans and prep my kids for the impending sub who is due to arrive at 8:45 a.m.

8:40 - I explain to the kids about the bullshit worksheets they will be doing while the sub is there (oh, let's be real about it, while she reads her newspaper and ignores them...)

8:45 - Despite being frustrated about the countless meetings I have been to, my little friends go back to their seats and begin working. I hear a few "I wish she was going to stay" and "aw mans" which, of course, I love.

8:50 - waiting for the sub...

8:55 - still waiting...

9:00- still waiting...

9:05 - yup, still waiting...

9:10 - do I even need to say it???

9:15 - The Weave walks in, looking very haggard. You would to if you had spent the morning sipping coffee and doing absolutely nothing while the professional development schedule goes up in flames around you. She saunters in and sits down next to a kid. (WTF????)

9:20 - "Yea, so there aren't enough subs today. You can't go to the meeting. But you'll work it out."

Of course I can't.

So while I would normally LOVE a nice, long, uninterrupted morning with my friends....I would also LOVE the opportunity to PLAN something worth all of our time rather than continuously pulling ideas out of my you know what.

If you regularly read my blog, you know how tired my behind must be.

Just Say No...

2007-12-15T08:38:00.000-08:00

The other day, we were in curriculum planning committee meetings when I learned a new trick to add to my bag. It is serious genius. I think it is the sheer simplicity of it all that really blows my mind...like, how did I not think of this before??

So we're in this meeting working on re-working the ENTIRE social studies curriculum. It's a TON of work, but very exciting work. The classroom teachers dive right in and get to work. Out of the classroom teachers are sitting around and have just about perfected that "we're-definitely-not-busy-but-in-reality-are-completely-useless-so-don't-bother-us" look.

That's not fair. There are a few (the proud, the brave) who actually bust their behinds. So to you, fine friends, I am sorry, but you are lumped in with a bunch of dead weight.

The chair of our committee turns and asks one of the do-nothings to please make a copy of a specific document so we can all look it over and continue. Mind you, we are mandated to be in this meeting until 3:00. It is 1:35 (we had a half day...).

She looks right at the committee chair and says, "no."

Just "no."

That's it, no explanation.

WHY HAVEN'T I THOUGHT OF THAT???

The committee chair was so shocked that she just turned and asked a teacher, who had to leave her work, to go do it while this do-nothing (who frankly doesn't even deserve a nick name... I refuse to waste my mental energy thinking of something quirky and humorous for this dope) sat and continued to stare blankly.

The saddest part is that she has been in the system for so long, that she makes more than all of us combined.

Snooz-a-palooz-a

2007-12-06T17:26:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been in the middle of a lesson and thought, "I am so incredibly bored I could cry"?

And no, I'm not bored because of the kids...I'm boring MYSELF by mindlessly plowing through content in an effort to just get it all covered. Bogged down with assessment deadlines, insane amounts of professional development that takes me out of my classroom, and two units that were supposed to be finished yesterday, I have become the world's most boring teacher.

And then I think, "I am so tired, I can't possibly say another word."

Today I was in the middle of a read aloud when I started thinking that I couldn't stand the story, really had no idea what I was saying and was only reading the book because it had been suggested to me and was written in my plan book. God forbid I stray from the PLAN BOOK (ooooo!!)

Then I realized...NO ONE ELSE is sticking to the plan.

Since when was it part of the plan to dump two extra kids in my class because there isn't a sub?

Since when was it part of the plan for an administrator to say, "I can't be bothered with that" when asked for a copy of the absent teacher's emergency work packet?

Since when was it part of the plan for another administrator to troop through my classroom, poking in cabinets and rifling through student work?

Since when was it part of the plan for an administrator to casually read the newspaper and sip coffee while parents drop off their children in the morning?

Since when was it part of the plan for the gym teacher to sit in a shady corner of the play yard listening to her iPod and thumbing through a magazine while forty children roll around unsupervised on scooters?

I'm fairly certain that these actions were never part of the plan. In fact, I'm also fairly certain that they are all in blatant disregard of the plan.

So in a move of sheer rebellion, I said "Screw you, plan!!" (words I don't take lightly because I loves me some organizational tools and a nice, busy looking week filled with post it notes and multiple ink colors) and led my class in the most amazing and exciting round of oral story telling ever!

And guess what?? They loved it and were engaged in a way that reminded me why I got into teaching in the first place. I love making kids laugh and I love making them excited about school.

I feel like I've just burned my bra and rediscovered who I really am.

Do I Have A "Kick Me" Sign On My Back??

2007-12-05T15:18:00.000-08:00

Because if I do...please take it off. It's killing me. I know it must be a "Kick Me" sign because educated adults can't possibly be THIS stupid, can they?? Or can they...

As many of you who read regularly know, I have had some issues with The Field Trip this year. There have been some administrative "snafus" to put it mildly. I, personally, do not like to put things mildly and therefore, simply put, have been clusterf*cked by field trip slip ups.

Today we were supposed to go on a trip that was planned by Mr. Big White Guitar. Do I even need to finish the story?? I think you can already tell that we did NOT go to the field trip. Instead, we had a lovely adventure waiting outside in 32 degree weather for busses that were never ordered to show up. Then we sat in the lobby for 30 more minutes waiting for the Fied Trip Coordinator to help us.

What's a Field Trip Coordinator you ask?

Hmmmm, where to start....

Well, friends, a Field Trip Coordinator is someone very "special" who, despite being a "teacher" has endless amounts of free time all masked under the guise of Administrative Assistance periods. You say Administrative Assistance period, I say free time to shop on line with your door locked. Tomatoe, tomato.

I guess this person is otherwise known as an out-of-the-classroom-teacher-who-no-longer-needs-to-work-a-full-day-and-couldn't-teach-their-way-out-of-a-paper-bag-if-their-life-depended-on-it. Whew. Long title. Must be important. Glad we pay them a whole heck of a lot and they have tenure.

Moving right along, as we waited for The Field Trip Coordinator to help us, I was already mentally pulling together a full day of instruction out of my, ahem, behind.

Enter The Field Trip Coordinator and Mr. Big White Guitar.

TFTC: So, there aren't any busses.
Me: No busses? Why not? I thought this was planned months ago??
Mr. BWG: It was.
Me: So where are the busses? Who was supposed to get the?
TFTC: He was (pointing at Mr. BWG).
Mr. BWG: He was (pointing at TFTC).
Me: Are you two serious?
Mr. BWG: It's your fault Field Trip Coordinator.
TFTC: No, it's your fault Mr. Big White Guitar.
Mr. BWG: No, yours.
TFTC: Yours.

As you can read, the situation rapidly deteriorated.

And I just walked away with my class, popped in the emergency movie I keep in my classroom andd then went outside with my class to play in the snow.

All in all, we had a lovely day. I don't think the kids left feeling like they were cheated out of a fun experience. Actually, we had a pretty damn good time.

Thanks to me.

You can remove the sign now.