Dream Letter

Letter I want to write for my non-return next year:

C YA BITCHES.
LOVE, MS. L

Ce Lo Green had something right.

You know, today should have been a good day.

C, who is always a bastion of hilarity, asked me, "Can I bring my ninja sword to school tomorrow?"

I tilted my head to the side and said, "Uhh...no?"

He replies, "But it says 'Bring me to Ms. L' every day when I see it." 

You can't make this stuff up, friends. 

But today's afterschool meeting made me want to get up and quit.  And sing Ce Lo's lyrics.

Without going into much detail because it a) would be unprofessional and more importantly b) pisses me off to no end and I might scream...

Here's the Reader's Digest -

I spent half an hour getting berated by a superior and a colleague in front of a student and a parent when they basically said that the reason this kid wasn't learning was me.  

Oh really? 

Then they told me that my instruction wasn't rigorous enough and he was switching classes so he would be more challenged. 

OH.  GO.  FUCK.  YOURSELF.  BOTH. OF. YOU. 


I almost quit.  YOU do NOT say those things in front of a student and parent when you have NEVER said those things to me in private.  

DO NOT FUCKING THROW ME UNDER THE BUS. 

And please, please, explain to me how these new teachers will be more fucking rigorous.  They draw fucking pictures for half of the day.  They're still learning how to divide in math class. 

Ce Lo is singing to both of you right now. 

Cards

This card may be being sent from your boss soon...

Cultural references lost on my coworkers

Yesterday, one of my students was caught with a naughty magazine.

And by naughty, yes, I mean a fifth grade student had a porn magazine in his backpack.

That we confiscated during my prep.  Oh how I love when fifth graders narc on each other. 

I strolled around campus singing, "Nudie magazine day!  Nudie magazine day!"

No one got my reference.  I'm certainly not the only one who appreciates Billy Madison and all of the movie's glory.  Especially my favorite part:

All I ask is for some participation...

You know what I don't like?

People who don't participate.

Guys, we're working super hard to make work a more delightful place to be. We're trying to close the achievement gap. We're trying to push these kids to do well on a test that only matters to us and our names. They do, in fact, use these test scores to berate teachers, remember?

So, just suck it up and try to pump up the kids.

The 90's club is cool...it's where we want our kids to strive to for the benchmarks.

So all I'm asking, teachers, is to dress up. Seriously. Dress in 90's clothes. That's all we ask. My committee plans a lot of events (at least one a month) and ALL we ask is that you stop being a party pooper and participate.



Seriously, just pump up the volume. Be coo' like that.

I whip my hair back and forth...

Today has been the craziest day in a long time.

We may or may not have taken an INTERESTING aerobics class tonight. With hair whipping. And heels.

In our news unit, we started doing our daily homework called "Newsworthy." We fill out a sheet about a news story we heard or read and why it was interesting to us. I have a few that are newsworthy...

"There was this story about a kid who almost got crushed by a train. I think it is interesting because I wonder what it feels like to be crushed."

And a few (yes, more than one) that echoed this sentiment: "There was this story about a person getting thrown in jail and it was interesting because my parent (s) are in jail."

Oh so sad. I cannot even FATHOM being without a parent during my formative years.

We also began our "dialogue" journals today. The kids, as part of their independent reading time, have to write letters to me and I will respond.

I. Literally. Died. while answering the letters.

Substitute Horror

So, my fabulous co-teacher had to go to some training today. About something. That she didn't really want to learn about (not because she didn't want to learn but because she had already sat through most of this training this summer. She needed like, an hour of this 8 hour training, but they made her sit through the whole thing.)

But lo-and-behold, the powers that be sent her a sub.

Now, a normal sub would follow HER schedule. (You know, in my room when she should be and in the other room when she should be.)

But no. She just came and went as she pleased. (How she got this in her head was beyond me.)

So I hate telling adults what to do when I am teaching and telling my minions what to do, so I don't really feel the need to have a substitute. It bothers me because they never know what to do when I am in the room (because, heaven forbid, they would actually know how to support children with special needs...since that is what you were sent for).

So here is a conversation that happened today:

Sub: "Teacher, I have a question for you." (We were standing at a group, working on adding fractions.)
Me: "Yes?
Sub: "I need you to explain why these kids are getting different answers than I am."
Me: "Oh? On which question?"
Sub: "That math problem." (She points to one-half minus five-twelfths)
Me: "Well, this student has it correct."
Sub: "How is that the right answer?"
Me: "Well, one-half minus five-twelfths is one-twelfth, just like this entire table says."
Sub: "How did he get that?"
Me: "Kiddo, what did you do?"
Kid: "One - half is equivalent to six-twelfths, and six-twelfths minus five-twelfths is one twelfth. Then I checked it with these fraction bars."
Sub: "Oh, this new math is so different. No wonder I got it wrong. I guess I learned it the old-school way."

In my head: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT WAY YOU LEARNED IT, SUBTRACTING FRACTIONS WILL ALWAYS RESULT IN THE SAME ANSWER.

Oh my god. Get her out of my room.

Out of control

You know what is out of control?

When you loose power at 12:30 pm and you don't regain it until 3:30.

Oh and you are at work.

And you have to keep schoolchildren occupied when there is no power.

And no power means no air conditioning.

Oh, why did we lose power?

Because of the torrential rain. And hail. And wind. The sky opened up and rained the contents of the Pacific on my school's campus.

So we couldn't go to specials, and we couldn't go to the bathroom (outdoor school. No lights in the bathroom. Torrential downpours.)

Needless to say, it was a ridiculous day. And the topping on the ridiculous hat? The superintendent called an emergency meeting after school in our library (where we all thought we were going to get fired, by the way) to tell us that WE MAY NOT HAVE POWER TOMORROW but we are STILL GOING TO HAVE SCHOOL.

And, because we will still have school, we each need to call our students and tell them that we may not have power...but we will still have school....but don't come if you think you'll get hot....and we don't know how we're going to have food....because we don't have electricity....

FOR CHRIST SAKE. How do you expect me to call the parents when a) our phones still don't work and b) the internet doesn't work for me to look up my kids numbers?

I "did the best I could."

It was a fricken mess.

...I'm not even going to go into the fact that I had my formal observation this morning and could barely stop shaking with nervousness...

An open letter

Here is a letter that I wish I could write to my school district.

Dear School District,

It has come to my attention that the more incompetent a person is, the more responsibility and leadership you give to them.

It would behoove you to actually understand what leaders of teachers should know and be able to do, and then hire people who a) can do that and b) can actually function with groups of adults.

Please stop hiring people who are a clusterfuck of stupidity. Please stop hiring people who do not know WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE DOING.

And if you cannot do that, please stop putting people in coaching positions who have no idea how to coach teachers. Ask us. We will tell you who we want to coach us. We will tell you what we need.

And if you cannot do that, please just stop making me listen to these people. Because I may, in fact, stab their fucking eyes out with a fucking fork.

Sincerely,
Miss L


I had a "training" today about coteaching. I wanted someone to sit us down and show us what to do using videos and models. I would like exemplars in this "co-teaching" world. I have seen reading exemplars, math exemplars, writing exemplars, models of what to do and what not to do in my time as a teacher.

Did we do any of that?

FUCK NO WE DIDN'T.

At one point, I got so frustrated I started to cry. The "leader" of the training pissed me off on so many different levels, I finally stopped talking and defending my opinion. She honestly is the most useless person I have ever met.

Those radios can be heard round the world...

Two of my naughties have been in-school suspended for a few days. They threw rocks at each other in front of our ISS teacher, and then they were ninja-kicking each other in the stomach in line walking to the library.

The ISS teacher was pissed. So she put them in ISS.

My feelings about one particular naughty, we'll call him ADD, are mixed at best. He's a fricken genius, but literally the most annoying human being I have EVER met. It boils down to him having diagnosed ADHD and a mother who refuses to medicate. The kid REFUSES to pay attention to anything, and legitimately does the opposite of everything you tell him to. And destroys property. And drives me fricken nuts. And they tell me that I just need to "deal with it." "Use your strategies." "He cannot be that bad..." Etc.

When I was in the office today, I heard the radio. The radio basically connects "the man" with each other....you know, when they want to find someone? Who knows. But from the radio, I hear from the ISS teacher: "ADD is driving me FRICKEN NUTS. I CANNOT HANDLE HIM RIGHT NOW!"

And I yell, with a big fat smile on my face, to the whole office who heard the radio, "Welcome to my life, PEOPLE! Welcome to MY LIFE!"

WIN

Brown just sent this to me.

Our long-standing joke just keeps on going.

BSB and Piaget

One of my favorite people just wrote an amazing blog piece. Read it here.

Not only did she write about the Backstreet Boys (thanks, besties from middle school and beyond, for forcing me to love them), she delves deep into the ideas of Piaget and moving from concrete to abstract reasoning.

I feel like I live in a world of Piaget every day. EVERY DAY. My kiddos are at the developmental age where Piaget claims that some of them are ready to move from concrete thinking to abstract thinking. If I could teach in Montessori land, (how I miss you, college job with no stress), it is a great place to be. You can see kiddos' minds churning with ideas, and finally "getting" things like algebra. Its beautiful when it is their turn to get it.

Did you read that? When it is their turn. When they are ready.

NOT, state of Arizona, WHEN THEY ARE TOO YOUNG TO UNDERSTAND.

So I spend my days trying to teach abstract concepts as concretely as possible, using blocks, manipulatives, real world examples, etc, but I yearn for a time where "the man" doesn't do something that students are not developmentally ready for.

Case in point: 5th graders solving two step equations. Not reasoning through them. Just solving them. Oy. I think Piaget is turning over in his grave.

Candy Bars and Complaints

How does one spend a day after the "candy bar" incident?

Making ridiculous references to it all day, of course.

Funk, one of my favorite teachers (and people) (and co-workers) of all time won the "reference" contest of the day, offering us his McDonald's soda while we were laughing during lunch. Completely random, completely off guard, just tilted it toward my face right after he sipped and said, "Want some? You sure?"

Classic.

And the rest of the day: putting out fires. I'm so so so so frustrated with the powers that be right now. My major frustration stems from them NEVER being on campus. Ever. Legit. Ever. I work my tail off, never have lunch, go to a zillion meetings (Although this week, Funk beats me), tutor after school, am basically around CHILDREN all day long, and what?

I never see you.

I am at school before you are (and off in my little lair preparing, or doing duty) and leave after you do. (Again tutoring or preparing or grading or actually reading emails that you send to me during the day.)

I don't procrastinate planning, either. I plan on the weekends. I prepare all of my stuff on the weekends. I make presentations and worksheets and read books about teaching math and make silly lesson plans the way you want them to be (wait, you want me to SCRIPT my lesson plans? wait, like I carry them around with me? WAIT. THIS IS RIDICULOUS. You script a lesson plan for me, teach one of my lessons, and THEN I'll do what you ask me to.)

So what are you doing with your day? You roll in 45 minutes after I do. (Often after the duty bell. You know, that bell that signifies the beginning of your contract). You certainly get to leave daily to pick up lunch (mostly impossible for me because I now have to hold lunch detentions daily because you sent a passive aggressive email that we should take care of more of our own discipline and I cannot do after school detention because I TUTOR) and if you don't get work done, can leave it for the next day. (ie - if I don't have work done, my kiddos don't LEARN). But your excuse? "We have to take care of our families."

Excuse I hate: "We have to take care of our families."
Why I hate that: Wait, because I'm single I'm supposed to pick up the slack because I don't have a family? SHUT UP. I'm not going to have a pity party because you chose to have a family. Right. Family is a choice. I have a family too. Just a different one than you do. I made my choice. You made yours. Don't use it as an excuse.

I think I'm just frustrated with a lot of things right now and need to vent. I need to calm down. Vino, here I come.

Professionality thrown out the window?

Words cannot begin to describe the ridiculousness that is this situation.

Ready? I'll try.

Today I was at duty, shooing children off of the basketball court, when Math Man came to talk to me. This is strange on multiple levels.
1) Math Man is our math coach, which means he spends his day coaching teachers. He rarely interacts with children on duty. Its like, a privilege you get when you get a better job...you deal less and less with children.
2) Never once has he come out to see me during duty.

He told me this story:
Math: "If we were sharing a candy bar, as colleagues, how would we go about this?"
Me: "What? I guess I'd have you split it in half and then I'd pick the half I want."
Math: "Right. You'd split it."
Me: "Yes. Is this going somewhere?"
Math: "Yes. You'd never consider sharing this candy bar by, uhhh...you biting a piece, giving it to me, and then I bite a piece, and give it back to you?"
Me: "No, that's disgusting."
Math: "Right. So why is it that two people shared a candy bar like that during a meeting with me today?"
Me: "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING."
Math: "I wish."

So apparently we can throw professionality out the window. Yet again, another reason why its almost impossible to work for these people. WHO DOES THAT?

Has he lost his mind?

Sometimes, my kids say things that I am thinking and not allowed to say. This is one of those times.

We were reviewing competencies in our Advanced Algebra class. The kids were redoing the questions they missed on the test, and then completing the competencies that they had trouble with on a review sheet. They were working in groups....because I have so many mini-teachers.

Because my kiddos are machines and can work independently, I can pull small groups to my round table and re-teach competencies in a small setting. Thus, today was a good day to do that. I had six kiddos around my bean table (this is not MY table. Imagine it with bigger chairs. and more crap around it).

We were solving systems of equations like it was our job, and I look up, and someone has walked into my classroom and is standing at the front of the room, looking confused.

Perhaps he is confused because
a) He has never been in a classroom where the teacher is not droning on and on from the front
b) He doesn't understand advanced math
c) He doesn't understand English...
d) All of the above

This man....he is the OLD school psychologist. Not the one who ate babyfood, but the one who spoke LITTLE TO NO ENGLISH. Right. Chew on that for a second.

Wait, wait. You test kiddos (IN ENGLISH) to see if they qualify for Special Education services (IN ENGLISH) and I cannot even understand you? I TEACH ENGLISH LANGUAGE LEARNERS.

So you look confused at the front of the room and I look up and say, "Hello?"

Him: "You busy?"
Me: "Uhhh...I'm teaching right now."
Him: "Oh, I see you busy."
Me: "Did you need something? Did you email it to me?"
Him: "No. No email. I need. I have...questions?"
Me: "Yes?"
Him: "I need...scores...LM...scores?"
Me: "She tested out of Special Education at the beginning of the year."
Him: "Meeting tomorrow. I need. Scores?"
Me: "Can I get the to you later? I'm in the middle of something." (me thinking...what scores? What the hell are you talking about?)
Him: "Yes?"
Me: "Just math scores? Because I'm her MATH teacher."
Him: "You teach math?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Not..uh...I need reading. Writing."
Me: "Okay, I'll have it to you by the end of the day."

My kiddos: "Who was that?"
Me: "A school psychologist."
My kiddos: "Shouldn't English, be, like, a prerequisite for getting a job here? You should be able to speak English."
Me: "Yeah, he makes more money than I do."
My kiddos: "WHY?"

Peaches and ... autoreplies?

I have so much to say. Mostly trying to remember everything for my memoirs...

First, my best friend (sense the sarcasm)...we'll call this student Grenade...(she is really dangerous when around others, and is so small but has a lot of bottled up rage that will explode frequently)...she had a run in with a different teacher today.

Now, let's put this into perspective. Grenade gives me ulcers on a daily basis. She cusses me out. She walks out of my classroom. She refuses to do work. She calls me names. She's a hot mess. I just breathe. And basically take it because there is nothing I can do about it. (She was supposed to be tested for some issues...we got parental consent...where'd the testing go? Where'd the support go? Why does she get to beat me up daily?)

But SOMEONE ELSE HAD TO REPRIMAND HER TODAY. And he did not have a good experience. So much so, that he told me about it as I was picking them up from gym...and he said, "Oh that one. She's a peach."

Well Grenade went OFF. She heard him call her a peach, and decided that:
a) She heard bitch. I told her he said peach.
b) HE SAID PEACH BUT HE MEANT I WAS A BITCH. No he did not, Grenade, I said. He called you a peach. Like your demeanor was peachy. I think he was being sarcastic.
c) IF I CALLED SOMEONE A PEACH I WOULD GET IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. No you wouldn't, Grenade, I said.

Proceed to stomp up the stairs. Proceed to stomp out of my classroom to go talk to ... I don't know. The people who coddle her?...Proceed to have the male teacher interrupted during his teaching to explain why he called her a peach....really? REALLY? Ridiculous.

She's a peach all right.

OH and autoreplies. Get this one. A teacher at school ...(I'll call him Mr. Performer)...(That's the nicest thing I could say. Others would call him many, many illegal things. He performs in front of the kids on a daily basis. They learn nothing. EVER. They sometimes play trivia games and watch Home Improvement on a daily basis. For "character development." Or some shit like that)....

Well Mr. Performer is at some training to get families more involved in our school. Fine. Whatever. You're still working. You're still getting paid. You're not on vacation. NOTICE: You still need to do your job.

So I send a reminder email today to the team to remind them about progress reports, and I get a quick reply from Mr. Performer. "I am out of the office and will be unavailable until Thursday. If you have x concerns, please call Power Trip."

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. (Napoleon says.) YOU ARE NOT ON VACATION. YOU'RE NOT EVEN OUT OF THE OFFICE. WHY ARE YOU SO SELF IMPORTANT THAT YOU PUT AN EMAIL ON AUTOREPLY?

WAIT. You are a teacher. You don't have an office.

The Queen and Power Trip would NEVER put it on autoreply when they are at a training but still working. SERIOUSLY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

I'm thinking of setting my email to autoreply: "I'm currently closing the achievement gap and cannot waste my time answering pointless email. I'll get back to you when I feel like it."

Another One Bites The Dust

Another one bites the dust may be the theme song for our school this year.

Today was a teacher's first teaching day. (She had gotten a few days last week to plan. Or something. I never saw her doing anything productive. But whatever, I rarely get anything productive done during the school day.)

This teacher is working part time. Keyword: she signed her contract to be a part-time teacher.

And she quit today.

SHE QUIT BECAUSE "she was looking for something more stable."

Wait, what? You signed UP for a part-time job. Can you read? Do you understand the phrase "part-time job?"

You were RELEASED from your last district. For reasons that are absurdly elusive.

So why are you quitting on YOUR FIRST DAY?

Duh duh duh...another one bites the dust.

After laughing...I'm sad because now my kiddos have no teacher. :( And they definitely need one.