There are many first days, and last days for that matter, in teaching. Monday was the first day for teachers; this consist of meetings. Tuesday was the first day for students; this consist of repeating rules and procedures that no one remembers for long. Today was the first day of actual teaching.
My 7th graders were wonderful as always. 7th graders do not have as much fear as 8th graders. I think it has something to do with being wrong in front of their peers; they are not worried about being wrong. They are also friendly during group work; they want to meet the other students in class. Although the 7th graders work better at the start of the year; the more comfortable they get the more issues that could arise.
My 8th graders were still well behaved. It is just a matter of getting everyone to discuss and share their ideas. Hopefully it only takes a few weeks, but I know from experience that something it never happens. The great thing about 8th graders is the more mature students get my little jokes. Some kids can never figure out how I know when they are paying attention. One way is to look for their reactions, laughing or looks of utter confusion. As a teacher, if you can get a third of the class to laugh, the second third of them feel like they missed out. They listen closer for your next humorous anecdote. Of course the last third has little hope sometimes. I have to jump on one foot or dance and sing HEY YA, making myself look like a fool, to get those last 8th graders to wake their brains up. Teenagers love that. They would rather me be embarrassed than themselves; I am not embarrassed.
In other news, I can still pass for someone other than a teacher. The 7th graders might actually have thought I was a high school student; the parent was sure I was another parent. Four boys were horsing around in the lockers after practice. I walked by the them and gave my best CUT IT OUT look. They stopped for a moment, so I walked on. I heard one scream THAT GIRL LOOKED AT US. Then I heard a loud fake cry…even my principal can fake a better cry than that. I circled back around from a different direction and found one of the kids on the floor, buckled over holding his groin. The other boys were laughing. I gave them a lecture about bullying in the sternest voice I could muster; the boy continues to wail on the floor. The student responsible was a little defensive. I asked him if he knew who I was. I always wanted to ask that when the answer actually mattered. My friend would just answer, “Yea, you’re a bitch. I remember.” This poor 7th grader was pretty scared. He began to plead with me to not tell the coach. After looking everywhere for the coach, the responsible boy admitted that he was the culprit. This released the other boys, but I still couldn’t find the coach. (This is actually one of my nightmares under stress; I am always looking for someone to help.) He insists, as the two of them trail behind me in my hunt, that they were just playing around. I told him when the situation ends with someone crying on the floor, it is NOT playing around. Eventually the boy’s father appears and attempts to save him. He corrects his son’s behavior, and he insists it will not happen again. The father began to plead with me to not pass on the information. I explain to him that we just don’t allow this type of horseplay in the hall, and I still indent to pass it on to the other teacher. The father does not get that I am just going to the coach, not the principal. The fear in his eyes and his son’s is too much. The authority is taking over my mind. I have unconsciously switched title COACH to MR. He thinks I am going to the principal; I say that I am not, but I don’t change my titles. I am not sure why I was jerking them around, but it was a little fun. Finally, unlike my many nightmares, I find the coach. He is just as scary as me. Hopefully the responsible boy will not do anything like this again, or he will kick the poor kid’s butt another day. If that happens, I hope I am not there.
BELLY SHOT
Apparently the belly came out for the grade level meeting after school. I missed it again, probably because my eyes were rolling. As if it were apart of her agenda, my principal began to cry during the meeting.
- Welcome
- Special Education Issues
- Hear teachers’ ideas
- Cry
- Homework
- Adjourn
If her belly wasn’t unprofessional then the crying was. I couldn’t quite figure out what made her cry. It seemed to be her homework assignment, or it could have really been a sudden sadness for her dying mother. I couldn’t tell from her words. I know her mother has been sick for years; I hate to be so incredibly cold to ignore a dying mother. Relief is what I would feel after I saw my mother suffer for years. In the end, she cried as she mentioned her mother and explained the homework assignment she passed out for us.
The irony come later when I read her assignment. She’s asked us to watch a couple You Tube videos of famous musicians (again she taught choir) who were judge for their looks rather than their beautiful music. The boss used this example, so that we would not judge our students by piercing (not allowed in school BY HER) and their clothing, which has been restricted more and more since she has taken over the school. Not to mention the way she has treated the teachers in the past. I am not buying her sudden respect for others. She is hunting for our respect and can only succeed with sympathy. She truly could pass for Susan Boyle, maybe even sing well, too, but she does not make beautiful music. I can’t believe how upset people are so early in the year. She burned all her bridges; if she had one chance left, she lost it for many even before the tears.
I used to work for a great principal. She was supportive and kind. She wasn’t a push over, but she listened. She really respected the teachers and loved the kids. I will have that again…maybe just not for two years.
Mishaps Today 