1. Begin the day answering a string of emails that
were sent while I was carrying the boys to swim, listening to chapters three
and four of Evan's AR book, and folding laundry last night. All emails were
pertaining to an irrate grandmother who was upset about multiple tardies to
fourth block, a class in which I do not even have Granny's student.
2. Picture day. Came to school with hair not meant to have been photographed.
Three weeks overdue for a cut because I spend every Saturday on the sidelines
cheering for homeruns, touchdowns, and goals.
3. Open attendance to find one of my students has been assigned out of school
suspension. Spend five minutes trying to figure out what such a nice guy did to
get four days of OSS.
4. Listen to a class of 32 kids complain that the CRITICALTHINKING exercise is
too hard. Try to explain that critical thinking means you must think. Students
complain that they just can't do that. I can't help but think that this is a
task my own son craves and is never provided.
5. Two girls called to office to settle a "dispute." Girls return an
hour later to tell me that they have been assigned in school suspension. I
don't even ask why because I am sure it is a he-said, she-said scenario that
isn't worth repeating and I don't have the patience to listen to it.
6. Run into principal in the hallway. As a side bar she mentions that one of my
students was born addicted to crack. Child's mother is not really the mother.
Girl is adopted. I walk away confused...
7. I find a set of notes taken in class on integers with sketches of a boy
shooting himself in the head. Referral to guidance is a must but no guidance
counselors are available today. Hum....
8. Decide dosage of sinus medication is a necessity because I feel like I have
two black eyes and my head is pounding.
9. On my way back from guidance I break up a fight between two boys. Must now
write a discipline referral. Meanwhile I must find someone to begin my next
class because I have 26 students entering my classroom.
10. I must keep my ED, bipolar kid that weighs 200 pounds from attacking the
sweet kid with good intentions that talks too much. You can't help but feel
sorry for the bully. He has moved four times in 12 months, his dad just went to
prison for murder, and he is 13 working on a third grade level.
I walk in the door and Wes says, "So how was work?" I tell him I need
a nap.
Did I mention arm farts? Yes, I am just as surprised as you that this should be
mentioned on my blog. This morning we all woke up to Evan's arm farts. It seems
that he practiced it for hours last night when he was supposed to be asleep and
he couldn't wait to show us all this morning. So in the wee hours, way before
the sun came up, we awoke to the sounds of flatulence. Good times, good
times....
No comments:
Post a Comment