My blog is my sty

I'm having a great morning.  I got a job teaching for half a day for a health teacher who I get called for every spring when she is teaching something totally awkward and embarrassing.  I don't think she is embarrassed by it at all, in fact, I think she's totally immune, but I have to wonder at her needing a sub in the spring and never any other time.  Hmmm...  Anyway, today the kids have guest speakers talking about date rape.  They are doing a unit called "One by One: Teens explore Date Rape"  Just the title alone is enough to cause a 15 year old to claw hopelessly at the ground hoping to dig him/herself a giant hole to climb in.   I LOVE that ninth graders, who can be pretty obnoxious at times, are reduced to looking busy and interested in the most insignificant scribble on their desks when someone asks, "What are three ways a girl might say "no" in a date rape situation."  Is there any good answer a 15 year old boy can give to that awkward, potentially incriminating question? -- "Well, when I dabbled in date-raping, I found girls usually just said, 'WHAT do you think you're doing?'"  -- No, there really isn't a good way a kid can answer that question,  so they stay silent and still, knowing that the guest speaker can only see movement, and if you stay still, avert your eyes, and blend in, they won't even know you are there.  

I needed a good job today.  Yesterday I taught kindergarten again.  I only sub for one kindergarten teacher and only because I like her, but I might have to break the news to her that I HATE kindergarten and can't do it any more.  She's kind of a big shot and is gone to meetings a lot, and that means a lot of work for me, but I don't know if it's worth it.  Yesterday three kids peed their pants.  My mom, who was a kindergarten teacher for many many years said that she thinks it is because they are afraid of me, but I know that isn't it.  Two of them are best friends and both peed their pants during a bathroom break after lunch.  They peed their pants together in the bathroom.  Like it's what all the cool kids do.  Another one came out of the bathroom that is located in the classroomwith pee all over her pants.  Excuse me, aren't you six years old?  WTF is with all the peeing?  

One girl came in to class first thing in the morning and told me that she needed a student to assist her for the day because she went blind. Here's our conversation:

Girl: Can Ava sit by me and help me today?  I need help because I went blind.
Me:  You're blind?
Girl: Yes.
Me: When did you go blind?
Girl: Yesterday after I went bowling.
Me: Do you mean you can't see anything, or you can't see well?
Girl: Yesterday I couldn't see anything.  Today I can't see well.
Me:  Did you go to the doctor?
Girl:  No.
Me: Did you tell your parents?
Girl: Yes. 
Me:  Do you have a headache?
Girl: No, I'm just blind.
Me:  -----
Girl: So can Ava help me today?
Me:  ...........  Yeah, sure.   

I agreed to teach that class again tomorrow.  New class rule -- NO DRINKING LIQUIDS ALL DAY LONG.

I have to say that after my last post, exposing to the world my true nerdiness (and my sister's true nerdiness) that I am loving the comments!  My aunt emailed me and called me a big nerd, and then went on to give me her opinion on which Hogwarts houses she thinks the Founding Fathers would be placed in. (NERD.)  Diary of a Mad Bathroom made me crack up this morning when I read her comment that kindly suggests I find like-minded nerds to talk to, like if I don't find an outlet for my nerdiness I might do something dramatic and irrational.  Of course, this is all happening on my blog, which in itself is an indication of my immense nerdiness.  I embrace my nerdiness and roll around in it like a pig in a sty.  My blog is my sty. 

It's all bitching today

I have subbed the last two days.  Yesterday I was in a third grade room that I've never been in before.  I was only there for the afternoon and because I got there early enough to look over all the notes, I got to talk with the teacher before she left for her meeting.  She was a nice enough lady, maybe 15 years older than me.  The class was finishing up a story about a kid in Harlem.  She had great control of the class, and the kids were nice and respectful so I don't have issues with that.  (In fact to be fair, I shouldn't really judge anyone from watching them for 10 minutes, BUT...)  This is what she said that astounded me: They were talking about this story which takes place in Harlem and some kid in the class asked where Harlem is and she explained that it is in New York and it's a poor neighborhood, probably someplace you wouldn't want to go because it's dangerous.  She said it had a lot of poverty.  Some other kid asked what poverty was.  She said, "...like dirt and litter all over the place."  What???  That's what poverty is?  Come ON, LADY!  The story they were reading was called "Me and my friend Max" or something like that. She asked the class, "What is wrong with this title? And they said that it should be, "My friend Max and I" to be proper English. She said that it's okay though because it's a title and people there don't speak very well. WHAT???  I just stood there dumbfounded that this woman would paint such a horrible and racist picture for a (an) historic place like Harlem.  If she doesn't know what it's like shouldn't she say, "I don't know much about Harlem.  Let's look it up."  I was tempted to blurt out "WHAT ABOUT THE GLOBETROTTERS, LADY!"

Today I'm subbing in a class that I've been in a lot, and there is a student teacher and she is in charge today.  Every morning they go over 5 vocab words.  She mispronounced two of them.  Oh jeez, come on, these are FIFTH GRADE VOCAB WORDS!  The ones she mispronounced were compartmentalize and irrepressible. 

Why don't I have a job?  Am I WORSE than this?  I don't think so.  I mean I know I make mistakes, but not glaring ones like painting whole neighborhoods of cities with a racist brush and mispronouncing common assigned vocabulary words.  Maybe I need to apply for jobs to get one.  Hmmm.

Why I Love Third Graders

I have been teaching in a third grade class all week.  I love them.  They are so fun and cute.  Sure, they have their annoying moments, like the three (or five) kids I call "the questioners" (in my head) because they walk up to ask me a question about absolutely everything.  Like this: 

Questioner:  Mrs. Lindahl, what do we do with our papers when we are done?
Me:  What have you been doing with your papers when you finish them from the beginning of the year?
Questioner:  Put them in the done basket?
Me:  Yes.

Or:

Questioner:  Mrs. Lindahl, what time are we having lunch today?
Me:  What time do you have lunch every day?
Questioner:  11:45?
Me:  Yes. 

Today we brought the kids on a field trip, which is usually a sub's NIGHTMARE because what if you don't know the kids in the class?  What if you don't know the logistics of the field trip?  What if the field trip is to a swamp with kindergarteners, and you only wore some cute little maryjane shoes, not knowing that you were going to be fishing kindergarteners out of a freezing swamp most of the morning?  See what I mean?  (seriously, it really happened, but they didn't call it a swamp, they called it a "nature center."  It was a swamp.)

Our field trip today was to the symphony and it was so fantastic!  There were about 2000 kids there and the program was geared to the elementary school student.  The kids had a great time and so did I. 

Anyway, one of the reasons I love third graders so much is because they are so weird.  I told them yesterday that it is customary to wear nice clothes to the symphony.  A girl came this morning, worried, and said to me, "Mrs. Lindahl, is it okay if I keep my sweatshirt on at the symphony today because I forgot to take off my pajama shirt when I was getting dressed."  She was wearing a pajama shirt, dress pants, and a sweatshirt.  How adorable is that?!

All week a bunch of them have been singing the words "salty nuts" in a very dissonant, sing-song voice.  It seemed a little strange, and slightly inappropriate, but I didn't say anything because I liked it, and obviously it is something they learned in school.  I learned about it today.  At the symphony the trumpet player talked about Dizzy Gillespie and how he wrote a song called "Salt Peanuts" and they played it for us.  Ohhhhhh!  Salt Peanuts!  I'm sure glad I didn't say anything about the inappropriateness of singing "salty nuts" and then having to explain to nine-year-olds why I find the words salty nuts inappropriate. (Here's why.)

I got a picture from a student today (I get pictures every day), and this one just sums up the wonderful weirdness of the typical third grader.  Here it is:

It's a picture of a girl and her giant dog, Bob.  Bob is apparently 100 feet tall and judging by his eyebrow and his speech bubble, he's not a very friendly 100 foot dog.  A squirrel (squerl, OMG!) is talking with the girl and complimenting her 100 foot, growling, angry dog.  Okay, for one thing, why would anyone want a 100 foot dog.  Can you imagine the poops?  Yuck.  And another thing, why is that masochistic squirrel anywhere near a hundred foot, angry dog, and where did it learn to speak English?  It doesn't look like Bob is tied to anything, so I imagine that in the split second after the snapshot of this picture, the squerl was torn to gory shreds.

Noisy

I worked last week in a second grade room and they were so noisy and out of control I lost my voice by the end of the day.  That hasn't happened in a while!  The only way they would listen to a word I said was if I made them sit in their desks and put their heads down.  Otherwise it was like I was talking and nobody could hear me.  I had a microphone and had it turned up as high as it would go without giving feedback.  You know what, School District?  Thirty three 7 year olds is too  many kids for one small, echo chamber of a classroom.  I don't know how the regular teacher can stand it.  I'm still recovering.  This week I have to do a day and a half of kindergarten, half a day of 1st grade and a day of third grade.  I'm not looking forward to it.  This is the same kindergarten class that I taught last time when the kid stuck his hand in his mouth and puked down his arm. YUCK.

Child Abuse

That title is misleading.  Nobody was abusing children today.  Children were abusing me.  I got called in last minute to teach kindergarten.  I rushed through showering and making my lunch and got there to relieve the teacher who was feeling terribly sick.

There were six kids absent today because there is some kind of horrible bug going around.  Ten minutes into class, I was reading a story and somebody stopped me to tell me, "Brady is puking!"  I looked at Brady and he had his fingers in his mouth and was puking down his arm, all over his lap, all over the rug.  Endlessly puking. Gallons of puke.  It was so so so gross.  When he finally stopped, I gave him some paper towels and sent him to the nurse with a helper.  Then I called the janitor to come and clean it up.  He came in to survey the damage and one kid said, "Hi, Bob," then every kid said, "Hi, Bob!" and wouldn't stop saying it until he said hi to each one individually, but I think he freaked out a little because he gave up on that after about five kids and bee-lined it for the door which only made the crazy little bastards say, "HI, BOB!" with more and more desperation.  It was like a whole classroom full of Chuckie dolls.  Ask Bob, I bet he'd agree with me.

Hi, Bob, Hi Bob, HI BOB!

Bob cleaned up the disgusting mess, Brady went home and we got on with the business of kindergarten.  Things went smoothly until it was recess time and I was zipping jackets and when I was bending down to zip a girl's coat, she sneezed a very wet, productive sneeze all over my face.  ALL OVER MY FACE!  I wanted to shriek and dance around and say, "GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS!!!"  but I didn't.  I said, in a sweet sing-song kindergarten teacher voice, "remember to cover your mouth when you sneeze!"

After lunch they came back in and had rest time, which would more appropriately be named watch-your-classmates-and-tattle-on-them-for-not-resting-every-second time.  Not very restful.

I got through the afternoon without being too horribly grossed or freaked out until it was time to get ready to go home and I was helping them pack their crap into their backpacks.  Oh My Dear Sweet Lord some of those backpacks are gross!  I can't even tell you how much unidentifiable crusty crap I had to avoid while zipping and unzipping backpacks.  What is that stuff?  Food?  Snot?  Whatever it was, it was gross.  Hey parents, backpacks can be washed.

I need a new job

I think I need to find a job.  I'm really starting to hate subbing.  For one thing, I think that all the laid-off teachers have started subbing and are getting all the decent jobs because when I do get called to sub, the job description is something like this:

Job # 12345 7:30-3:45

-Start at Central High for Mr. So-and-so.  Teach 1st hour special ed. in resource room.  (question:  where the fuck is the resource room?) Teach 2nd hour Consumer Science (fancy name for home ec.) in room 153.  (walking down hallway, see rooms 152, 154.  There is no 153.  After walking about a mile looking for it because it MUST BE by 152, learn that for some inexplicable reason it is on the second floor. ??? Oops!  Clerical error!  We meant 253! lol!)  Walk in late, flustered and sweaty.  Read lesson plans and learn that you have to supervise thirty-five 16-year-olds making flan. (what the fuck is flan?)

-Go to STC (Where the hell is that?  Oh, it's across the 15 acre ice-rink parking lot?  I wonder how many times I will fall.)  Teach 3rd hour remedial math for Mrs. Whats-her-face in a freezing cold totally isolated classroom with 15 boys who look like they want to kill you and make your skin into a suit.  

-Drive to East High School.  Teach 5th and 6th hour  for Mr. Blahblahblah in room 353.  Yes, the school in fact does happen to be 95 degrees!  How did you guess?  BTW Mr. Blahblahblah is a slob and won't have any lesson plans for you.  Good luck!

-Drive back to Central.  Babysit an 8th hour study hall that has a student teacher.  Sure, it's a total waste of time but what do you care?  You're getting paid an almost poverty-level wage no matter what you teach so quit your bitching!

Or even worse:

Job # 23456 7:30 - 3:30

Any Elementary School: All day kindergarten.


(Actually, I taught in kindergarten yesterday and it wasn't so bad.  The kids were very cute.  I was wearing a red jacket and one little girl came up to me and said, "I like your jacket," and on the word "jacket" she poked me hard, dead-center in both boobs with her tiny monkey fingers.) 

I think I want to find a job that pays a lot of money, has low expectations, is part-time, where I won't have to drive around all day or get sexually assaulted by small children.  Is that too much to ask?

Kindergarten = Insane Asylum

I am subbing at one of my favorite schools today, in the morning for a fifth grade teacher and in the afternoon for a kindergarten teacher.  Fifth grade was a breeze.  Fun, easy, rewarding.  I felt like I was really something special after that.  Teacher of the year!  

Then I came into this kindergarten class and they are slowly but surely eating me alive.  This may be the last thing I ever write because they are at lunch right now and I only have another 15 minutes until they get back.  I forgot how fucking crazy kindergarteners are.  As soon as their teacher left, we were doing an activity on the smartboard, putting pictures that started with S next to the big S and putting pictures that started with M next to the big M (easy).  They started arguing with each other about who was going to get to pick which picture, and who was in line first, and who got to be in line first last time blah blah blah.... pandemonium.  

We finished that awful activity and then we went to the gym to play Duck Duck Goose.  Total chaos.  The "it" person would go around the circle and touch each person's head and say "duck" but you could always tell when they were about to goose someone because it went like this:  duck...., duck.., duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, Duck, Duck, DUCK,DUCK, DUCK, DUCK!, with each new kid getting slapped just a little harder in the head until someone got goosed, I meanGOOSEd!!! and then those two were running around the whole gym like a couple of maniacs, and the Goose person would go after the It person with such a vengeance that when the It person finally got tagged by the Goose person the It person usually fell on the floor from the sheer force of five-year-old excitement/gooseslap-rage.  Holy shit!  Calm down, people!  And THEN the people who were tagged were supposed to sit inside the yellow circle, but they wouldn't stay there.  If I turned my back they would slide their little bodies out of the circle and try to trip the Goose person and the It person when they were running around like maniacs.  

Then we had to go to the bathroom and there was almost a class brawl while they argued about if they are supposed to line up next to the wall, or on the black line.  First of all, I didn't see any black lines anywhere, so I don't know what the hell they were talking about, and second of all, just line the fuck up and shut your toothless little traps!  

And then we came back to the classroom and they were supposed to have center time.  It was total chaos trying to tell them what to do at each of the four centers.  When I'd go to help one center, the three I wasn't at would start yelling poop and pee words and laughing hysterically (it was kind of funny) and wouldn't do their center activity.  One kid had to sit in time-out because he instigated the whole poop conversation amongst his peers and whipped them into a poop/fart/pee frenzy.  (Kady, you would have been in hysterics.)  I have to go pick them up now.  Farewell...

****************************************

I'm home now.  I survived the afternoon.  I have a headache of massive proportions.  After lunch went better than before lunch.  The most alarming thing about those little people is that they really like me. Why???  I try to be a hardass and make them a little afraid of me, but they won't be intimidated.  When I was standing in front of them when they were lining up to go to the bathroom, the kids in the front were petting my stomach fat with their tiny monkey hands, and telling me how beautiful I am and how beautiful my clothes are yadda yadda yadda, and when I walked them down the hall the line leader held my hand.  Then the fat kid couldn't get his pants unbuttoned so I had to do it, then he couldn't get them buttoned so I had to do it, and whenever I would turn my eyes away, another one was running away, or getting in trouble.  

One girl lost her tooth during story time and wanted me to hold up her disgusting bloody little tooth-stump and show the class.  Gross.  

The worst part was at the end of the day when we were getting ready to leave.  The teacher didn't give me any directions about what time to get them started, or her procedures for having them get their stuff on or anything, so I was basically winging it and gave them 15 minutes to get their stuff on.  About a third of the class was ready in two minutes and then standing in line causing problems, another third took about ten or fifteen minutes (and were causing problems while they were dressing), and then the last third were making me sweat because they hadn't even located their jackets by the time the bell rang and it was time to get on the bus. 

One kid said he was mad at his classmates for some reason so he just wasn't getting ready to go home.  Um, what?  I said,"YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS!"  He didn't care.  

But then mixed in with the utter chaos were moments where they were so cute I could barely stand it.  During their story (Over the River and Through the Woods) there was a picture of a woman rolling out dough with a rolling pin.  I asked them what they thought she was making and one kid said, "Cookies!" another one said, "Pumpkin pie!" and a third said, "Green beans!" another said, "Chicken!" which led to this argument:

Kid 1: You don't make chicken, you kill it!

Kid 2:  Well, if you don't have a chicken to kill, then you just make it.  

Kid 1: ...Oh, okay.  

They were talking about their class "tuwkey" named Albuquerque and they told me that he gets a new feather every day they are really good.  He had some really nice, shiny, foil feathers.  They really wanted a yellow one today, hint hint... 

Ha ha... revenge is sweet.  TFB, Albuquerque.