desperate longing.

Some days I get sick to my stomach that I am not in a classroom. 

This is one of those days.

new beginnings, old endings

Oh, how I love teaching.  Oh, how I relish in the look on a student's face when the gifts of knowledge and understanding take hold.  Oh, how I celebrate that feeling of pure joy that is prancing through rows of desks, skipping, frolicking, humming, and singing to the tune of learning. OH HOW I LOVE IT.  I feel giddy just typing in these words....just the thoughts, the images, the emotion that is teaching.  I just can't get enough of that job...that profession...that career...that calling.

So, I left teaching. 

Took a full-time, salaried position that includes an office, a desk, business cards, a surpervisor, comp time, vacation time, a lunch hour, and an email signature longer than is reasonable for any sensible adult.

And I'm a little upset about it.

Maybe upset isn't the right word. Confused definitely fits, but that implies that there is some sort of "correct" solution of which I am lacking understanding.  Mad could fit, but who is to blame?  Sad can definitely describe the feeling, but how can it be entirely accurate when I have been given such a wonderful opportunity?  So we'll stick with upset, because I'm going to have to face reality sooner or later....

but Oh, how I love(d) teaching.

over

i am officially done teaching.  that is weird.

don't annoy me.

It never ceases to amaze me how ridiculously students behave.  It also never ceases to amaze me how big of idiots they can be.  I mean, I understand that adolescence is the time for testing the boundaries of thoughtless actions, but the impulsiveness with which many of my kids act on a daily basis continues to manifest itself in new and exciting ways.

Take my (least) favorite male student for example.   We have been working on an election project in Government the entire week.  Students have very specific roles within their group (candidate, running mate, press secretary, etc.) with very specific jobs (submitting daily campaign briefs, designing the campaign website, etc.), and they must work together in effort to elect their group's candidate.  This specific student's role was Marketing Director, a title in which he undoubtedly thought it could excel because of his painstakingly constructed faux-hawk and tested success in spewing absolute bullshit. 

On the first day, the MD was given the task of head designer of the "large campaign poster", aka a large piece of colored roller paper decorated with crayons and markers.  There were other students available to help with the logistics of the advertisement, but the MD was the primary author of the slogan and had the final say in any artwork.  The candidate for this student's group, a female, has a last name that rhymes with "oh".  This student took it upon himself to begin creating a poster that said "vote for X cause she's a ho" and claimed to be quite confused when I nearly choked after reading it.  He then had to start over with a new piece of paper because I had accidentally stomped on and ripped his poster. whoops.

On the third day of the project, many students were working on computers to direct and record a series of short videos.  These videos were supposed to represent TV commercials, one with a biographical purpose and the other two as "attack ads".  The MD was instructed to work with the Press Secretary to write and record these videos, using the webcams on the laptops to film.  (Least) favorite student was working individually on his computer, apparently looking very busy, but then suddenly stood up as if he had just sat on a cactus.  His laptop in his hands, he shouted "hey *Bob*, catch!" to the classmate next to him and proceeded to actually toss the computer at the other student.  Thank the big Guy above, Bob actually caught the computer, looking at it in his hands with a look of mixed surprise and pride.  As much as I wanted to pause and praise the superb hand-eye coordination of the innocent bystander, my attention instead went to the gleeful and sickly satisfied smile on the mug of my (least) favorite student.  The sting of anger swept over me like a fiery mess, a ball of which I wanted to absolutely hurl at his face.  I rarely shout at students, but OH DID I SHOUT.   I think he first thought I was kidding, but perhaps the certain color of purple that my face undoubtedly turned gave him a hint of my true intentions.  After spending some quality time in the hallway, receiving a zero for that part of the project, and having a short but meaningful conversation my (much more calm) self, I asked him a single question as he was walking out the door.

Me: "LFStudent, what are you NOT going to do tomorrow?"
LFS: "uhhh.....throw computers?"
Me: "Oh no, let's be much more general than that"
LFS: "abuse things in the classroom?"
Me: "nope, still too specific"
LFS: "umm i honestly don't....."
Me: "ANNOY ME.  YOU WILL NOT ANNOY ME."
LFS: "Oh, yeah....ok....heh heh...no problem Ms. Rab...<runs out the door after his classmates>".

I long for the days when I was at least paid $9/hour to deal with stuck-up, sassy, diaper-wearing brats.  Seemingly, the only difference now is that the shit spews from their mouths instead of their asses. And that I get paid nothing.

Catching up or barely hanging on...

So close, but still so far! This week is spring break (thank you thank you thank you thank you), which means that I am thinking a lot about how I should be spending my time doing one of the following:
1. lesson planning
2. grading homework
3. grading projects
4. applying for summer jobs
5. applying for teaching jobs
6. perfecting my resume
7. getting my resume professionally printed
8. working on my portfolio
9. catching up on the three MSU projects that I am embarrassingly behind on
10. laundry
11. cleaning my disgustingly filthy room
12. organizing my life

Instead, I am significantly more likely to be doing one of the following:
1. eating
2. sleeping
3. coaching
4. playing hockey
5. watching mindless TV (watched an episode of "Prison Wives" today on Oprah's Network.  Addicting.)
6. eating
7. going on Facebook
8. an assortment of other really important tasks, like updating my blog.

So....I've got that going for me. 

Let's turn away from my own shortcomings and reflect on those of my students.  These are much more exciting. 

• (OPEN NOTE) quiz question: "Define political party".  Student answer: "A party where people talk about politics". 
  
• Worksheet question: "What city would host your the 2012 National Convention for your political party?" Student answer: "Virginia".
  
• Discussion question: "Who did we gain independence from in the Revolutionary War?" Student  answer: "Canada".
  
• Me to student: "Yeah, I remember a few questions on my AP test about Bill Clinton". Student: "Clinton?  When was he President?"
  
• stupid small-group icebreaker activity: If you could be any eating/cooking utensil, what would you be and why?  EX: "I would be a wisk because I like to mix things up." 
• (impulsively autistic) Student A: "I would be a knife...so I could CUT and STAB (shouting) ANYONE who gets IN MY WAY."....this was said to her small group members, so I did my best to curtail my uncontrollable laughter and thankfully watched the special ed coteacher take care of it.
• (class clown) Student B: "I would be a knife...cause I get a lot of cut"....get in the hallway, Student B. 
• (loveable, goofy) Student C: "I would be a nutcracker, cause I bash a lot of nuts"....(death stare from me)..."Should I join Student B in the hallway?"...great idea.
• (pretty quiet) Student D: "I would be a spork"...(his group member, and my least favorite student all day) Student E: "Yeah, cause you go both ways"...hallway.
  

So I went out into the hall and greeted  the idiots with a piece of paper and pen each, told them to write their names on them and title the page "Dear Mom and Dad".  Letters had to include what they said and why they said it.  I then collected them and kept them safe until parent-teacher conferences two days later.

I suppose this is what I get when I expect high schoolers to be able to appreciate silly ice breaker activities, but I'm not too worried.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself seeing those three sweat it out over the next few days.  Gotta love delayed consequences.


So...back to that list of things to do.

i help you, you help me

This past week was full of the absolutely unexpected. 

I was asked by a student if she could come running with me after school.  As I have been coaching both cross country and track this year, I did not find this unusual.  I did not really know what to expect...I knew this girl was an athlete (wrestler) and that she was thinking of trying out for soccer in the spring.  So, we decided that Wednesday would be the day that we would run together.

She stopped me after class on Tuesday, clearly wanting guidance on something.  Pulling me aside, she looked very worried about something.  "Should I even go out for soccer?" she asked hesitantly, watching my face for any immediate reaction.  Of course, I wanted to be supportive, but I wasn't too sure why she was asking me.  This was the girl who had only weeks ago explained how badly she wanted to play club soccer at Michigan State, how it was her favorite sport, and how good she feels when she's playing it.

 I tried to slowly pick at the issue, and fearing that it was socially based, I slowly explained that many of the "soccer girls" played on club teams together throughout the season and that they may be quite clique-y.  She laughed out loud and shook her head, saying that "it wasn't that...I get along with everyone just fine."  It turns out that her major problem--the issue holding her enthusiasm back--was every high school girl's biggest nightmare: her weight. 

See, during the winter season, this female student wrestled "heavy weight", meaning she was regularly paired up against boys at least 216lbs.  I have no idea what her record was, but her stories of struggle tell me it wasn't exactly statistically successful.  Soccer, on the other hand, was full of skinny, tan girls who could run for miles (while complaining at least 93% of the time).  The soccer girls, my student feared, would not accept her "because of her weight". 

I was disgusted...I know teenagers are judgmental, but I would never have expected a concern like this from such a nice girl. 

Needless to say, she was still invited  to run with me after school. The problem was that she couldn't run more than  20 yard without needing to stop.  I did my very best to motivate, coach, and listen...she had a lot of concerns to share and questions to ask.  When we got back to school, I waited with her for her mom to arrive.  When the car pulled up, she gave me a big hug and thanked me for helping.  I'm still not sure how helpful I was, but I was glad she felt that way.

On the other side of things, I had to face the sudden death of my Nana this week.  She was taken to the hospital on Monday, had surgery that day, began to recover throughout the week, and then the doctors discovered some serious circulation problems in her legs on Thursday.  As her kidneys began to fail and her other organs became weak, the final choice revealed itself: double leg amputation and long, painful, risky therapy, or peaceful death. 

In school on Friday, I was clearly not myself.  I thought I was doing a decent job of hiding it, even doing my best to share the sad news with the few boys in my second hour to were nice enough to ask about Nana's status.  My fourth hour, however, seemed to know me too well to be fooled by such a facade.  A few boys kept asking "what's wrong?  you seem sad.  are you okay?  we're worried".  I was in no shape to discuss things, so I did my best to ignore it, but I can't stop being thankful for their concern. 

Our students may be our biggest critics, but they are also my biggest supporters.  They can read my mood merely by watching me take attendance, and take notice when things are "off", and not only for their own benefit.  It's like having 120 therapists always ready to listen...but I'm not sure I'm exactly willing to share.  

weekends.

I would really enjoy a WEEKEND.  Not a two-day marathon of chaotic obligations, but an END to a WEEK that was otherwise insane.  An END to a WEEK of MSU assignments and unit planning.  An END to a WEEK of time at spent at school, time spent coaching, and time spent writing, writing, and writing.

Holler at me, St. Patrick's Day.  

Nothing is as it seems.

So last week was mid-winter break (awesome), during which I went up to the UP to play some pond hockey, flew out to NYC to visit a fabulous friend, and spent hours and hours and hours grading.  I definitely expected to be doing some work, but I was not prepared for my vacation to be mostly turned into a prolonged prep period.  I NEED TO STOP ASSIGNING HOMEWORK AND GIVING TESTS.  This will solve all my problems.

When I went into the building over break to grab some stuff, I saw that the sub from Friday (I was already in the UP and my mentor teacher suddenly decided to take the day off as well...) had left some notes for us about the students.  Not just your typical "Hi, the students behaved like wild animals, I sat at the desk and did nothing, here's my name so that you can request me as a sub in the future" type note, but FOUR PAGES worth of detailed findings, the vast majority of which was from my lovely sixth hour.  Names underlined, stars next to key events, itemized lists of ursuptations, the freaking works.  Someone get this woman a damn typewriter.

Anyway, it turns out that in my absence a select few students had taken it upon themselves to behave like an absolute Goon Squad.  Paired with Susie Substitute Mc Writes-a-lot, this clearly made for an eventful class period. The best part of the "notes" was when Mrs. Mc W-a-L noted that "student X told me that I wasn't a real teacher, just a sub standing in front of the class, and that he didn't have to respect me and I couldn't tell him what to do."    Same student also left class ten minutes early to go "clean his locker".  AWESOME.

Yesterday (first day back from break), I stormed into sixth hour and barked directions as such:
1. get out a piece of paper
2. get out a pencil
3. put everything else on the floor
4. put your name and hour on the paper
5. title the paper "How to behave when there is a substitute"
6. skip a line
7. write "Dear Mrs. _(sub's real name)__"
8. write a MINIMUM of six sentences describing how a class should be expected to behave when there is a substitute teacher
9. make sure one of those six sentences is a direct apology for the atrocious behavior of your fellow classmates
10. this is for a grade. 

Sub left me her email, so I'm hoping to be able to send these to her.  About to start reading them--this could get interesting.

Day 101

Yesterday was Day 100 of the internship.  That's 100 solid days of instruction...doesn't include vacation, PD days, or snow days.  Pretty awesome.

I learned something new today:  Letting a student joke around about AK47s while there is a substitute co-teacher in the room will lead to three administrators showing up to your classroom in the middle of fourth hour.  I wouldn't suggest trying it.

I have also figured out what my biggest unexpected challenge is: dealing with absences.  When I was in school (I am so old) I missed maybe one or two days PER YEAR.  I have students missing one or two days per month or even week.  While I may tell them that it is their responsibility to get missed assignments and notes, it is almost always extra work for me to make sure they are properly caught up, not to mention the annoyance of grading old assignments and making the gradebook look pretty.  SO ANNOYING.

Mid-winter break is next week.  Get excited.

all in a day's work...

High Schoolers are such filthy animals.  I mean, humans are naturally not the prettiest of creatures, but this specific cohort of the breed really excels in all that is vile.

I must have missed a memo on Friday about it being National Be As Inappropriate As Freaking Possible Day, but HOLY POOP ON A STICK was it ridiculous.  The hallways have become a communal mating ground, with wild beasts rubbing all on each other, hoping to be shielded by the swarms of students walking by.  "if we stand here along the wall next to the door and only look at each other, no one will notice us...we'll just fade into the chaos of the 7 minute passing time...".   Guess what? I CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE MAKING OUT AND HOLDING ON TO THE BRICK WALL FOR SUPPORT.  This is SCHOOL for pete's sake, not a freaking massage parlor thinly veiled as a truck stop.  I think I'm going to start walking around school yelling "HAND CHECK" and  making sure students actually come up for air at regular intervals.

 Case in point: I brilliantly decided that helping out with the track team would be a good idea.  So I'm in te fitness room after school on Friday, doing some strength drills with the few kids who are stupid enough to attend preseason workouts.  Two students, one of whom is usually working out with us, are over on the other side of the room sitting on one of the weight machines.  With several machines and pieces of equipment in between them and myself, it took me a while to realize that it wasn't two students sitting on the weight machine...more like one student (female) sitting on the bench (of some leg lift thingie) and her male attachment laying on top of her.  I could only see backs of heads, but they were swaying in ways that isn't conducive to productive leg muscle building.  WTF.  STOP RUBBING YOUR TEENAGE SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED DISEASES ALL OVER THE EXERCISE EQUIPMENT.  I HAVE NO DESIRE TO WATCH THE PREAMBLE TO A NEW SEASON OF TEAM MOM.  Luckily, a seemingly intimidating male teacher walked in shortly after my jaw hit the floor mat in shock, so he was able to do the proper yelling at the lovely couple.

On a second but related note, I also had the pleasure of discussing with a small clan of freshmen boys how absolutely repulsive, crude, and utterly ignorant it is to say that you "would totally fuck Ms. X" while walking though the hallways during lunch, especially when in close proximity to a certain student teacher.  Lucky for them, I was nose-deep in my planning book as the comment was uttered and unable to detect which one of them let their foul mouth get the best of him, but I hopefully made it very clear that I would personally push for suspension of the entire group if anything like that was spoken out loud at school again.  Save it for your COD party in Jimmy's basement this weekend.

shut your dirty, nasty mouth

Few things bring me more joy than solving a complicated problem.  Few things give me more problems then annoying, snotty students. 

Excessive use of "retarded"?  Yep, you're getting warmed up.  Shouting that a classmate was "an IDIOT!" because he picked up the wrong worksheet?  Mmmhm, here we go.  Slapping the back of your friend's neck while everyone else is working on an assignment because you think it's hilarious?  Keep going, brother.  Comparing the slap to a girl getting hit in a fight the previous day?  Bingo.

"Student X, shut your dirty, nasty mouth."--me

Stares.  Stares from classmates, stares from his friends, and a stare especially from him.  But luckily, a silent stare.
 

On a significantly more awesome note, I got a habitual sleeper to stay awake during notes today by moving the podium so that he could sit "criss cross apple sauce" in the middle of the floor.  I even had him take notes on my pretty flower clipboard.  Totally worked--he got a little attention, stayed awake, and was one less victim I had to stare into note-taking compliance.

spotted: high school dudes on the prowl

had two separate moments today to remind me that I'm an old lady:

1. walked into one of my classrooms after lunch to find two boys standing close to my desk.  Upon further review, they were hunched over my things, looking closely to see if they could spot my cell phone.  The ultimate goal? To pull my number off of it.  Same boys that already asked me for my number once so they could "hit me up to play some pond hockey".  Someone should let them know that attempting to snag phones out of purses isn't the hottest way to pick up chicks.

2. sat at my desk while students were working on an assignment.  The group of macho dudes sitting in front of me, after much grunting and hardy laughter about a supposed fart noise, started speaking in tongues--something that sounded like "map-pack" and "cod" and "SNIPE".  I raised my head and attempted to casually ask one of them what those words meant. 

Response? 

"C'mon...who are you? Do you know ANYTHING?"

...guess not.

the person and the persona

Flipped open my TIME magazine today to a quick snapshot about Michelle Obama (in all of her fabulousness).  Her ability to always look amazing while also sounding impressively intelligent was deemed a mastery of "the person and the persona: the private self and the projected public image".  It seems that she would be the ultimate teacher; our performance is a daily six-act play that never seems to meet the high standards of our critics.  If only we could all look so damn good while spitting our mad pedagogic game.

On the bright side (terrible pun intended), when I left the building at 5:55p.m. today, it was still light out.  Celebrate the small victories.

there is no winning

A education research article that I recently had to read for a grad class defined one of the categories of moves to improve student attitude as "winning", meaning a teacher would some how act in a way that makes students feel like they win.  Guess what kids, YOU ALWAYS LOSE.