ON a multiple choice test: "Mrs. Whole Nother Day? Can you help me? I know the right answer, I just don't which of these it is."
About scheduling presentations randomly (so that everyone has to be there every day): "But Friday is Seniors' last day, what if we don't want to present that day, and we want to go the day before?" "Well, the rest of us have to be here two weeks past that date, so we'll try real hard to feel sad that you have to give a presentation on your last day. That's two weeks before our last day."
About getting zero credit on an free-response answer: "But I knew what I meant, I just kept writing words so you'd see that."
From a junior, regarding the days after seniors are done: "So do we have to come to class?" "I will mark you absent if you're not here." "But what if our mom excuses us?" "That's between you and your mom." "But will it be unexcused?" Pause. "Huh."
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Coming back
This past week. I tell you. How did your week go? That bad?
Here's how to tell if your week was as bad as my week.
Wednesday, I was standing in front of my class of 32 sophomores when I felt something on my foot. I looked down.
It was my skirt. Around my ankles. NOT, as it were, around my waist, where--I'm told--skirts normally reside, in the everyday working of things.
Did you find out that your lower half of your clothing was NOT covering your privates? While standing in front of a room of teenagers?
No?
Then YOUR week was not as bad as it could have been.
Here's how to tell if your week was as bad as my week.
Wednesday, I was standing in front of my class of 32 sophomores when I felt something on my foot. I looked down.
It was my skirt. Around my ankles. NOT, as it were, around my waist, where--I'm told--skirts normally reside, in the everyday working of things.
Did you find out that your lower half of your clothing was NOT covering your privates? While standing in front of a room of teenagers?
No?
Then YOUR week was not as bad as it could have been.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Part Time Teacher
I am constantly baffled by teachers who never take work home, who leave right at 2:30, who look far more relaxed than I ever have.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still grateful I've changed professions and that I teach now. Days that were endlessly the same, that went into ten and twelve hours, that had me at a desk all day long, they ground me down. And teaching, whatever else there is about it, isn't like that.
But it's also not well paying. I know, news flash.
Some teachers compensate for that by having a hard limit on how much they'll do: what the contract stipulates and not an iota more. Other teachers say screw it, and stay as long as they feel they need to stay to get the job done (there are some there til 9 at night!). I've always wanted to strike some sort of happy medium between the two--I'm crazy that way--but it's hard. There's always--ALWAYS--more work than there is time for. Here it is, after five days of classes, and I'm behind on grading, I haven't been able to research my special-needs students, I want to be able to recommend some students for extra support but I don't know who they are yet, AND I don't have the online status updated for my AP students.
Planning? Ha! Improving lesson plans? PUH LEEZE. Organizing my room, cleaning my office, and planning for the clubs I advise. All are gone by the wayside.
Last year, I was looking ahead to this year and I knew I didn't want to be grading over dinner like I have been. With this tiny little human in my life now, I didn't want to have the two hours we have together tainted by a dark cloud of work. So I chose to reduce my load--I'm now a part time teacher. I'm getting paid 60% of what I used to get paid (remember, I'm a math teacher, so 60% of Not Much is... Even Less), but I'm also, now, finally, after three years of teaching the same two classes, getting time to improve where I wanted to improve. Take chances where I wanted to take chances.
Grade what I wanted to grade.
There's a lot more work I do now that I'm not getting paid for. But I'm considering it an investment at this point. Whereas I was getting paid for a fulltime job before but clearly working a job and a half, now I'm getting paid for 0.6 of a job--and I have a chance at only working full time. And still coming out with better lessons to use in the future. For someone who puts a lot of pressure on herself (me? naaaah) it's a huge relief to feel like I can do a good job without sacrificing my family.
Except, of course, financially. I'm lucky lucky lucky we're at a time and place and stage where I can do this--for my sanity. For my pocketbook, it's not so healthy.
What kind of world is it where we ask teachers, theoretically the ones who get our children ready for the world, to make this kind of tradeoff? You can work yourself into the ground, you can always feel inadequate, or you can skimp on what you teach our children--that's it, them's your choices. And none of them involve getting paid for the work you do.
In the meantime, though, it's really nice to not feel half-crazed and underprepared. Now, ask me again about Christmas time when my gift-list is a lot of hand-made "it's the thought that counts" type of gifts, my answer may change.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still grateful I've changed professions and that I teach now. Days that were endlessly the same, that went into ten and twelve hours, that had me at a desk all day long, they ground me down. And teaching, whatever else there is about it, isn't like that.
But it's also not well paying. I know, news flash.
Some teachers compensate for that by having a hard limit on how much they'll do: what the contract stipulates and not an iota more. Other teachers say screw it, and stay as long as they feel they need to stay to get the job done (there are some there til 9 at night!). I've always wanted to strike some sort of happy medium between the two--I'm crazy that way--but it's hard. There's always--ALWAYS--more work than there is time for. Here it is, after five days of classes, and I'm behind on grading, I haven't been able to research my special-needs students, I want to be able to recommend some students for extra support but I don't know who they are yet, AND I don't have the online status updated for my AP students.
Planning? Ha! Improving lesson plans? PUH LEEZE. Organizing my room, cleaning my office, and planning for the clubs I advise. All are gone by the wayside.
Last year, I was looking ahead to this year and I knew I didn't want to be grading over dinner like I have been. With this tiny little human in my life now, I didn't want to have the two hours we have together tainted by a dark cloud of work. So I chose to reduce my load--I'm now a part time teacher. I'm getting paid 60% of what I used to get paid (remember, I'm a math teacher, so 60% of Not Much is... Even Less), but I'm also, now, finally, after three years of teaching the same two classes, getting time to improve where I wanted to improve. Take chances where I wanted to take chances.
Grade what I wanted to grade.
There's a lot more work I do now that I'm not getting paid for. But I'm considering it an investment at this point. Whereas I was getting paid for a fulltime job before but clearly working a job and a half, now I'm getting paid for 0.6 of a job--and I have a chance at only working full time. And still coming out with better lessons to use in the future. For someone who puts a lot of pressure on herself (me? naaaah) it's a huge relief to feel like I can do a good job without sacrificing my family.
Except, of course, financially. I'm lucky lucky lucky we're at a time and place and stage where I can do this--for my sanity. For my pocketbook, it's not so healthy.
What kind of world is it where we ask teachers, theoretically the ones who get our children ready for the world, to make this kind of tradeoff? You can work yourself into the ground, you can always feel inadequate, or you can skimp on what you teach our children--that's it, them's your choices. And none of them involve getting paid for the work you do.
In the meantime, though, it's really nice to not feel half-crazed and underprepared. Now, ask me again about Christmas time when my gift-list is a lot of hand-made "it's the thought that counts" type of gifts, my answer may change.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
And lo, the maternity leave begins!
Yee ha!
So, I have a sub. A sub who, as it turns out, is going to the same baby doctor clinic we went to.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Last Monday. Maybe.
I've been planning on starting my maternity leave at the end of this week. At first, it was just a little gift to myself, based on my friends lamentations wishing they'd been able to take more time off before.
Now, though, it's become necessity. A day of teaching immobilizes me for the rest of the day--my back and pelvis feel like they are being ripped with every move. Getting up to pee, lying down in bed, anything at all hurts. Wheee!
And of course, now that it's become a virtual necessity, bureaucracy is rearing its ugly head. The personnel department of my school district is requiring a note from my doctor's office in order for me to take that time as my sick leave. Because, you see, I can't take sick leave unless I"m actually sick. Being thirty bijillion weeks pregnant apparently isn't enough of a reason because, as the darling personnel woman told me, "some people just want to take that week off to goof off."
Dude, I'm not even going to be able to goof off.
My doctor's office refuses to write me a note to get me on maternity leave because there's nothing in my file that puts me on bed rest. And they can't fit me in before Friday, THE DAY I WANT TO GO ON MATERNITY LEAVE, for me to even try to convince them that I really really need this.
When the nurse from the doctor's office called me on my cell phone to tell me this, I was limping around the grocery store, trying to pick up some necessities for school tomorrow. "I can't write a note for you until your C section," she said.
"I'm 38 weeks pre-e-e-e-gnant," I said, starting to snuffle. "I can't wa-wa-walk. I ju-ju-ju-just want to go on mater-er-ernity leave!" There I am, staring at dog food, trying not to cry and failing miserably. So miserably that a kind elderly woman with severe osteoperosis stopped me with concern to check if I was okay. When the hunched over old lady who can't see above the third shelf is asking me if I'm okay, I'm in a bad bad way.
Upshot is, I can't figure out how to satisfy the paperwork needs of my asshole personnel department, where I can't use my sick leave unless I'm actually sick (and being hugely pregnant is apparently not enough), and my doctor's office where they won't write me a note to get me on maternity leave unless I'm actually sick enough to require bed rest. So I've been spending most of the afternoon and evening crying at the injustice, although it doesn't seem to be helping a whole lot.
I'm very confused about the whole paperwork for maternity leave. This whole thing just sucks. Andrew said, worse comes to worst, I just don't show up on Monday. Fuck, at this rate, I may just not show up tomorrow.
PS: Just to cap the shit sandwich that today is, I just found out from my Daycare Of Choice that we probably won't get in next fall. We are waitlisted everywhere but Kinderkennel, and we've been looking basically since I was four months pregnant. What the hell, karma!!!!! This is SO NOT FUCKING FAIR!
Now, though, it's become necessity. A day of teaching immobilizes me for the rest of the day--my back and pelvis feel like they are being ripped with every move. Getting up to pee, lying down in bed, anything at all hurts. Wheee!
And of course, now that it's become a virtual necessity, bureaucracy is rearing its ugly head. The personnel department of my school district is requiring a note from my doctor's office in order for me to take that time as my sick leave. Because, you see, I can't take sick leave unless I"m actually sick. Being thirty bijillion weeks pregnant apparently isn't enough of a reason because, as the darling personnel woman told me, "some people just want to take that week off to goof off."
Dude, I'm not even going to be able to goof off.
My doctor's office refuses to write me a note to get me on maternity leave because there's nothing in my file that puts me on bed rest. And they can't fit me in before Friday, THE DAY I WANT TO GO ON MATERNITY LEAVE, for me to even try to convince them that I really really need this.
When the nurse from the doctor's office called me on my cell phone to tell me this, I was limping around the grocery store, trying to pick up some necessities for school tomorrow. "I can't write a note for you until your C section," she said.
"I'm 38 weeks pre-e-e-e-gnant," I said, starting to snuffle. "I can't wa-wa-walk. I ju-ju-ju-just want to go on mater-er-ernity leave!" There I am, staring at dog food, trying not to cry and failing miserably. So miserably that a kind elderly woman with severe osteoperosis stopped me with concern to check if I was okay. When the hunched over old lady who can't see above the third shelf is asking me if I'm okay, I'm in a bad bad way.
Upshot is, I can't figure out how to satisfy the paperwork needs of my asshole personnel department, where I can't use my sick leave unless I'm actually sick (and being hugely pregnant is apparently not enough), and my doctor's office where they won't write me a note to get me on maternity leave unless I'm actually sick enough to require bed rest. So I've been spending most of the afternoon and evening crying at the injustice, although it doesn't seem to be helping a whole lot.
I'm very confused about the whole paperwork for maternity leave. This whole thing just sucks. Andrew said, worse comes to worst, I just don't show up on Monday. Fuck, at this rate, I may just not show up tomorrow.
PS: Just to cap the shit sandwich that today is, I just found out from my Daycare Of Choice that we probably won't get in next fall. We are waitlisted everywhere but Kinderkennel, and we've been looking basically since I was four months pregnant. What the hell, karma!!!!! This is SO NOT FUCKING FAIR!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Things to say
Things a pregnant woman might like to hear even if she is fairly certain it's a lie:
"No, let me get that for you." (as said by a random parent)
"You look like you do 'being pregnant' well." (as said by the nine-fingered [female] security guard at school)
"Wow, you look like you've gained hardly any weight! I can't believe those pants still fit you so well." (as said by Em)
"From the back, you hardly look pregnant, you just look nice." (as said by Andrew)
Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear, even if she is fairly certain it's the truth:
"Are you having twins? Is that why you're so big?" (as said by a school counselor)
"Are you sure you have four weeks left? You look huge." (as said by the office secretary)
"Oh, look, you're waddling!" (as said by a science teacher, the other office secretary, every other math teacher in the department, and several students and students' parents)
Hee. Why yes, apparently I am measuring big, per the doctor today. But, um, have you met me? I am 6'1". And not a delicate flower 6'1". I was a ten pound baby, y'all. Little Man? The sperms what made him were from a tall person too. A betting person would put him at "above average size".
In other news:
Peace out, ya'll. Next time I update, it'll be my spring break. W00t!
"No, let me get that for you." (as said by a random parent)
"You look like you do 'being pregnant' well." (as said by the nine-fingered [female] security guard at school)
"Wow, you look like you've gained hardly any weight! I can't believe those pants still fit you so well." (as said by Em)
"From the back, you hardly look pregnant, you just look nice." (as said by Andrew)
Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear, even if she is fairly certain it's the truth:
"Are you having twins? Is that why you're so big?" (as said by a school counselor)
"Are you sure you have four weeks left? You look huge." (as said by the office secretary)
"Oh, look, you're waddling!" (as said by a science teacher, the other office secretary, every other math teacher in the department, and several students and students' parents)
Hee. Why yes, apparently I am measuring big, per the doctor today. But, um, have you met me? I am 6'1". And not a delicate flower 6'1". I was a ten pound baby, y'all. Little Man? The sperms what made him were from a tall person too. A betting person would put him at "above average size".
In other news:
- I don't just nest, I renovate. The kitchen is going well. We had an awesome meeting with the woman who's going to be installing our IKEA cabs and there's a few issues to address, but I think we can do that. And the moldy leak might be okay. And the engineering problem that caused the sinking second floor is taken care of. So, you know, no big deal and no stress...
- IKEA did call and say my kitchen order was available for pickup. So I showed up at the store and said, "Do I LOOK like I would order a kitchen for pickup?" They fixed it.
- My sister arrives the day after tomorrow. Her car seat arrived today. I can't wait.
- I got my hair cut. I have my first new hairstyle since the Mistake of a Boy Shag disaster from 2002.
Peace out, ya'll. Next time I update, it'll be my spring break. W00t!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Crappity crap crap
I can't do it. I am letting everyone down. 150 students, other teachers, everyone. I can't do this. I spend every single day--EVERY SINGLE DAY--with too much to do and not enough time or energy to do it. Everything is clawing for my time and attention and I can't get it done. By the end of the day, I hurt--I HURT--and all I want is to go home and put on pajama pants and put my feet up to let my ankles drain and then not have to move until I go to bed and not think. And yet, there's still more that has to be done. I could work til six at school every day (that'd be an eleven hour day) and MAYBE get caught up, except I really truly can't physically work until six. That's imagining that mentally I could do it.
You know that pregnant brain thing they say happens? it does. I can't keep track of things, and so I let deadlines slip or forget to call video services to tell them that they can't interview my science students (and so they show up anyway, and oops! we can't do the interview, sorry!), or to copy my tests for Tuesday (so I have to find time to copy them on Monday and I JUST DON'T HAVE THE TIME) or arrange for a sub for Tuesday. And that's just shit I need to take care of tomorrow. Oh, I mean, over and above teaching. Which--I have no idea what I'm going to teach tomorrow.
And that's just in my work life. The other plates I'm juggling--friends, family, oh, that whole kitchen thing? I forget to make those calls too. And I just feel like more shit. I don't have wiggle room left for deadlines, personal or private, and I feel like I'm missing them all.
You know that pregnant brain thing they say happens? it does. I can't keep track of things, and so I let deadlines slip or forget to call video services to tell them that they can't interview my science students (and so they show up anyway, and oops! we can't do the interview, sorry!), or to copy my tests for Tuesday (so I have to find time to copy them on Monday and I JUST DON'T HAVE THE TIME) or arrange for a sub for Tuesday. And that's just shit I need to take care of tomorrow. Oh, I mean, over and above teaching. Which--I have no idea what I'm going to teach tomorrow.
And that's just in my work life. The other plates I'm juggling--friends, family, oh, that whole kitchen thing? I forget to make those calls too. And I just feel like more shit. I don't have wiggle room left for deadlines, personal or private, and I feel like I'm missing them all.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
You can practically hear the sympathy.
Um, Ms. Whole Nother Day, I don't think I want to take this test.
Well, uh... who ever wants to take a test, doll?
But Ms. Day, I'm not ready!
I'm really sorry to hear that. But I've been talking about the test all week.
But Ms. Day, I'm not caught up on the homework--I haven't done any of it.
Pause. Deep breaths..
Well, now, that I can't help you with. That was a choice you made.
I was absent!
Two weeks ago. For a day. You've had plenty of time to get caught up, come in for help, and get ready. Do what you can, I guess.
Yes, this actually really, word-for-word happened. She answered one question out of 27.
Well, uh... who ever wants to take a test, doll?
But Ms. Day, I'm not ready!
I'm really sorry to hear that. But I've been talking about the test all week.
But Ms. Day, I'm not caught up on the homework--I haven't done any of it.
Pause. Deep breaths..
Well, now, that I can't help you with. That was a choice you made.
I was absent!
Two weeks ago. For a day. You've had plenty of time to get caught up, come in for help, and get ready. Do what you can, I guess.
Yes, this actually really, word-for-word happened. She answered one question out of 27.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Conferences
ARG. I hate this time of year, and it comes twice a year. I always always dread it. I spend days obsessing about the terrible things parents are about to accuse me of. (of which they're about to accuse me?)
And it's not the parents (mostly) that turns out to be the horrible part. It's the long ass long ass long ass day, the talk talk talk for three hours straight, the having to shift gears every six minutes and know on a dime how little Tina or little Charlie are doing as soon as the parents sit down.
Worse is the parents who sit down and assume you remember which child they go with because they met you back in October. Because, yeah, I can totally do that. OR NOT.
This time, of course, I did get one set of parents who said it was my fault their daughter wasn't doing homework--because I was so straightforward with her. Yes, you read that correctly, because I was straightforward with the daughter ("I won't let you go to the library if you haven't done the homework") it was now MY FAULT that they're little angel wasn't doing her work. "I'm not saying you're wrong," the dad kept repeating, "but that's why she won't work. Because you were so direct. She won't do the work now."
At that point I decided to just keep nodding and smiling, because clearly, there was no more to communicate in that conference.
And I only had two more hours to go after that.
I called Emily as I was driving home. "Go home," she said. "Make someone bring you food." So I got a pizza delivered. My ankles are elevated (and LORDY are they swollen) and I'm in my pajamas.
Two more days til the weekend. 7 more weeks of pregnancy.
And it's not the parents (mostly) that turns out to be the horrible part. It's the long ass long ass long ass day, the talk talk talk for three hours straight, the having to shift gears every six minutes and know on a dime how little Tina or little Charlie are doing as soon as the parents sit down.
Worse is the parents who sit down and assume you remember which child they go with because they met you back in October. Because, yeah, I can totally do that. OR NOT.
This time, of course, I did get one set of parents who said it was my fault their daughter wasn't doing homework--because I was so straightforward with her. Yes, you read that correctly, because I was straightforward with the daughter ("I won't let you go to the library if you haven't done the homework") it was now MY FAULT that they're little angel wasn't doing her work. "I'm not saying you're wrong," the dad kept repeating, "but that's why she won't work. Because you were so direct. She won't do the work now."
At that point I decided to just keep nodding and smiling, because clearly, there was no more to communicate in that conference.
And I only had two more hours to go after that.
I called Emily as I was driving home. "Go home," she said. "Make someone bring you food." So I got a pizza delivered. My ankles are elevated (and LORDY are they swollen) and I'm in my pajamas.
Two more days til the weekend. 7 more weeks of pregnancy.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Anal glaucoma
A coworker calls it "anal glaucoma." As in, "I just don't see my ass at work tomorrow."
I called in sick. And I'm not. Sick, I mean. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. I'm so bad!
I called in sick. And I'm not. Sick, I mean. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. I'm so bad!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Things I don't get or: Modern Education
So, our boys team reached state. Which, of course, necessitated a whole school assembly with much cheering and hooting and light show and band shenanigans. Oh, and! You could get excused from school today to go watch the team play! At 10:30 a.m.! Because clearly, they are students first and athletes second! And how better to show these athletes that! First, by scheduling the game at 10:30 on a Wednesday morning, then by excusing half the student body!
JV team--well, yeah, gotta go. Band? Gotta go! Support them boys! Dance team? Gotta go! Cheerleaders, of course! And then--boosters! Gotta go!
Call me old-fashioned, but I really really think that if you are failing any classes at all, you should absolutely not be excused from school to go watch. I told my AP class that they are welcome to figure out their own priorities--that's what growing up is all about--but I wasn't going to slow class down any at all just because they wanted to go watch basketball and homework was still due Thursday, period, full stop, end of story. Because that's how college works, too. But I feel the same way about my sophomores too.
I don't get these parents who are all, sure, go! to Seattle! With 100 other unchaperoned teenagers! GREAT IDEA!
Yep, I'm gonna be one of those parents.
JV team--well, yeah, gotta go. Band? Gotta go! Support them boys! Dance team? Gotta go! Cheerleaders, of course! And then--boosters! Gotta go!
Call me old-fashioned, but I really really think that if you are failing any classes at all, you should absolutely not be excused from school to go watch. I told my AP class that they are welcome to figure out their own priorities--that's what growing up is all about--but I wasn't going to slow class down any at all just because they wanted to go watch basketball and homework was still due Thursday, period, full stop, end of story. Because that's how college works, too. But I feel the same way about my sophomores too.
I don't get these parents who are all, sure, go! to Seattle! With 100 other unchaperoned teenagers! GREAT IDEA!
Yep, I'm gonna be one of those parents.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Teachering Indignation
Thursday: Last day for students to get help before finals. Thirty two students decide they need help THAT DAY. Twenty eight of them for the first time all semester. One of them stays to ask one question about something from chapter 2 (covered in October), and when I don't sit down with her one on one for a private tutoring session, gets up and leaves. Ten minutes later I get a call from her mom.
"Haley* said she tried to get help but couldn't get help."
"There are over two dozen other students in here right now, so I couldn't sit down with her, but she was welcome to stay."
"Well then, what should she do?"
Options running through my head: (a) invent a time machine and go back to Wake The Fuck Up Day (b) suck it up and actually do the homework that had been assigned back in the day, or, even, y'know, yesterday (c) find someone else to ask.
I went with option c. "Maybe she could ask her math teacher from last year? Or she could come back."
But seriously, dude.
Because not an hour later there was an all-user email from one of the counselors. "Math teachers--are any of you doing study sessions for finals? Because I've had a lot of students crying in my office."
First of all: did that REALLY need to be sent to all the teachers and staff at school? I guess those social studies teachers really needed to know that us math teachers were SLACKING. Second of all: um, YEAH. Because you know when I read that email? AT SIX-THIRTY, when I STILL hadn't left school because I'd been helping students until after four.
(Okay, many people from not-education maybe be saying, four? POOR BABY. Except that I'd been there, helping teenagers since before seven, with only twenty minutes where I was talking to adults during lunch. I was done. BEYOND done.)
And might I add? ONE of those students with a sudden need to talk exponents? Was the counselor's own daughter.
---
*Not her real name. Not to say that it couldn't be her name, but it wasn't. No, I swear! It wasn't!
"Haley* said she tried to get help but couldn't get help."
"There are over two dozen other students in here right now, so I couldn't sit down with her, but she was welcome to stay."
"Well then, what should she do?"
Options running through my head: (a) invent a time machine and go back to Wake The Fuck Up Day (b) suck it up and actually do the homework that had been assigned back in the day, or, even, y'know, yesterday (c) find someone else to ask.
I went with option c. "Maybe she could ask her math teacher from last year? Or she could come back."
But seriously, dude.
Because not an hour later there was an all-user email from one of the counselors. "Math teachers--are any of you doing study sessions for finals? Because I've had a lot of students crying in my office."
First of all: did that REALLY need to be sent to all the teachers and staff at school? I guess those social studies teachers really needed to know that us math teachers were SLACKING. Second of all: um, YEAH. Because you know when I read that email? AT SIX-THIRTY, when I STILL hadn't left school because I'd been helping students until after four.
(Okay, many people from not-education maybe be saying, four? POOR BABY. Except that I'd been there, helping teenagers since before seven, with only twenty minutes where I was talking to adults during lunch. I was done. BEYOND done.)
And might I add? ONE of those students with a sudden need to talk exponents? Was the counselor's own daughter.
---
*Not her real name. Not to say that it couldn't be her name, but it wasn't. No, I swear! It wasn't!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Things they never tell you about teachering and pregnancy
- Teenagers, assuming they like you, will at some point get comfortable enough that they will ask you very personal questions. Not the ones you are mildly prepared to be "surprised" by, but ones that you will have no prepared answer for. "Do you have kids?" "Why not?" "Do you want them?" "When will you have them?" And countless variations that there's just no preparing for. And no amount of saying, "That's a very personal question, and none of your business" will suffice, because that's only one period's worth of teenagers. You have five periods a day, and then there's a whole new semester's worth coming in January.
- Once you get pregnant, teenagers get very upset if you don't tell them personally. If, say, you tell one class and you don't tell another. (How do you "announce" your pregnancy to a room full of 30 hormonally challenged young adults, anyway?) I'm just saying.
- Teenagers also think you will instantly be giving birth. When you tell them that you won't be gone until say, April (and late April at that!) they are shocked and surprised. Apparently they expected you to be on maternity leave in the next four weeks.
- You know how pregnant women get swollen ankles? Try teachering. Oh dear heaven.
- It's really hard to convince yourself to sit more and still be a teacher.
- Perhaps not surprising, but still not something that had occurred to me: the prospect of naming is very important to students. They will offer suggestions almost daily, usually suggestions that are very very very close to their own name. And the weirdness of the suggestion of naming your child after a student will completely escape them.
- If you start to experience SPD, teaching will suuuuck. Every, every day.
- After all of that, you will be surprised every day with how much these teenagers care. Not really surprising, maybe, given how concerned they are with other, more earthy aspects of reproduction, but at the same time, there will be moments of absolute charm. Some of these kids will delight in your progress. Some, girls especially, will privately and timidly ask if they can touch your belly. They will take paramount interest in if you are having a boy or a girl. Some, that you don't have in class at all, and haven't for two years, will hear from someone who heard from someone that you are pregnant and will come by just to say how happy they are for you.
And then they'll ask you to name the baby after them.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
With much stamping of feet, and rending of garments
I'm not ready.
I'm not reeeeaddy.
Don't send me back there!
This past week has been a week of decadence. I have watched more football than I thought possible (go blue!). Apparently, getting a big fat ol hdtv television (thank you, Oregon, for your very bizarre kicker check law...) makes you watch more sports than you ever have in the rest of your life put together. There's only a few HDTV channels on our cable but the sports! Dear heaven, the sports! It's like being able to see every single blade of grass! Sometimes, I like just watching the little ESPN ticker tape that goes along the bottom because the clarity gives me chills.
Of course, as a result, I know all about the Dolphins coach getting the axe and how surprised the Ravens coach was to get fired, I'm know the results of pretty much every single college bowl game, and I'm following the basketball schedules of several different cities across the country. I'm not proud, I'm just addicted.
I guess.
Another way to look at it: I've been battling a severe case of fatigue. For a while. I was tired in the first trimester, but rumor has it, that's normal. Everyone told me that, hey after the first trimester, it all gets much easier! And it hasn't. It just hasn't. I feel like I've been walking around in a fog for the past six months--not sleeping well, but never actually awake. Or if I am awake, it's not for long, and then I'm back to monosyllables and looking for an activity that involves a lot of couch sitting. Holding conversations becomes a heavy task.
So I had my 5month appointment last week (a couple weeks late) and talked to my doctor about it, and I've taken some tests and have some new supplements and hopefully that will help.
In the meantime, my lovely lovely lovely winter break is just a few hours from being over, and I'm getting the shakes because I'm really not ready.
You can't make me go! You can't maaaaaake me!
I'm not reeeeaddy.
Don't send me back there!
This past week has been a week of decadence. I have watched more football than I thought possible (go blue!). Apparently, getting a big fat ol hdtv television (thank you, Oregon, for your very bizarre kicker check law...) makes you watch more sports than you ever have in the rest of your life put together. There's only a few HDTV channels on our cable but the sports! Dear heaven, the sports! It's like being able to see every single blade of grass! Sometimes, I like just watching the little ESPN ticker tape that goes along the bottom because the clarity gives me chills.
Of course, as a result, I know all about the Dolphins coach getting the axe and how surprised the Ravens coach was to get fired, I'm know the results of pretty much every single college bowl game, and I'm following the basketball schedules of several different cities across the country. I'm not proud, I'm just addicted.
I guess.
Another way to look at it: I've been battling a severe case of fatigue. For a while. I was tired in the first trimester, but rumor has it, that's normal. Everyone told me that, hey after the first trimester, it all gets much easier! And it hasn't. It just hasn't. I feel like I've been walking around in a fog for the past six months--not sleeping well, but never actually awake. Or if I am awake, it's not for long, and then I'm back to monosyllables and looking for an activity that involves a lot of couch sitting. Holding conversations becomes a heavy task.
So I had my 5month appointment last week (a couple weeks late) and talked to my doctor about it, and I've taken some tests and have some new supplements and hopefully that will help.
In the meantime, my lovely lovely lovely winter break is just a few hours from being over, and I'm getting the shakes because I'm really not ready.
You can't make me go! You can't maaaaaake me!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
And then, in BIZARRO land..
One kid in my 4th period class, upon learning that I was pregnant:
"Is there something they can give the baby so that it, you know, grows really fast?"
"...um? What do you mean?"
"You know, like, make it grow so fast that it would, like, explode out of you?"
"Well, just... I. Can't tell you. But I'm not likely to find out."
"Is there something they can give the baby so that it, you know, grows really fast?"
"...um? What do you mean?"
"You know, like, make it grow so fast that it would, like, explode out of you?"
"Well, just... I. Can't tell you. But I'm not likely to find out."
Monday, November 12, 2007
Out from under.
I don't know what it is right now. I thought it would be nine months of awesome, but instead it's turning into a slow and painful slog. I'm exhausted all the time and constantly worried that I'm just failing.
What? No, I meant the school year.
I honestly don't know what it is this year. I really thought I was sitting pretty. For my first year as a teacher, I had no new classes--everything was something I'd taught before. I had lesson plans drawn up and the year charted out. I knew what needed to be tweaked and what was pretty good looking.
Okay, yeah, the year got off to a bad start, and then I'm missing a few (ha!) days here and there for some (totally stupid, irrelevant, and time-sucking) training. But still. I've had that before too.
My students say I can blame The Pregnant for it, but I don't like to do that. I just honestly haven't felt caught up yet this year. And I feel like I've NEVER felt this un-caught up.
And today? Veteran's Day, a sacred holiday when we remember touching stories about all sorts of war-ish stuff (or anyway, that's how the school treats it)? It's not so much a holiday as a completely full day of grading--just, unpaid.
And I'm still not caught up.
I'm not worried, though. There's Thanksgiving, four completely unpaid days in a row, right around the corner.
Ah, the glamorous life of teaching.
What? No, I meant the school year.
I honestly don't know what it is this year. I really thought I was sitting pretty. For my first year as a teacher, I had no new classes--everything was something I'd taught before. I had lesson plans drawn up and the year charted out. I knew what needed to be tweaked and what was pretty good looking.
Okay, yeah, the year got off to a bad start, and then I'm missing a few (ha!) days here and there for some (totally stupid, irrelevant, and time-sucking) training. But still. I've had that before too.
My students say I can blame The Pregnant for it, but I don't like to do that. I just honestly haven't felt caught up yet this year. And I feel like I've NEVER felt this un-caught up.
And today? Veteran's Day, a sacred holiday when we remember touching stories about all sorts of war-ish stuff (or anyway, that's how the school treats it)? It's not so much a holiday as a completely full day of grading--just, unpaid.
And I'm still not caught up.
I'm not worried, though. There's Thanksgiving, four completely unpaid days in a row, right around the corner.
Ah, the glamorous life of teaching.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
The Fun Never Stops 'Round Here
You know what's fun?
I'll tell you what's fun!
Parent-teacher conferences! They're fun!
Dad in fatigues and combat boots getting down on his daughter for her test anxiety! That's fun!
Mother of difficult son explaining that said son "just doesn't learn well from women teachers" and that's why he's doing poorly, not because he sits in class with his book closed and his paper put away! That's funner!
Mother of stubborn son explaining that he's not doing well in class because he's "mad at" me and that's why he failed the test and then crumpled it up and threw it at me! Almost the funnest!
But the funnest is whizzing through forty parents in three hours--so, let's see, that is, hmmm, carry the one,... less that five minutes per conference and in the middle of that, being pulled aside by an administrator and told that someone asked her to tell me to move it a long a little faster! That's the absolute funnest!
Actually, I hadn't done the math at the time (there may be some irony in that statement) but now that I have, I'm dwelling on it and getting pisseder and pisseder at her. I saw 40 parents. I talked for three hours straight. They can't honestly expect me to have spoken LESS than five minutes with those parents. As it was I was ending conversations quickly. How much faster should I have gone?
"HiyourkidhasaCheneedstostudymorekthnxbieeee"??????
She can bite me.
I'm going to go to bed now, and dream sweet sweet dreams of staying very very quiet and not talking to anyone for three, maybe four days. Ahhhh...
I'll tell you what's fun!
Parent-teacher conferences! They're fun!
Dad in fatigues and combat boots getting down on his daughter for her test anxiety! That's fun!
Mother of difficult son explaining that said son "just doesn't learn well from women teachers" and that's why he's doing poorly, not because he sits in class with his book closed and his paper put away! That's funner!
Mother of stubborn son explaining that he's not doing well in class because he's "mad at" me and that's why he failed the test and then crumpled it up and threw it at me! Almost the funnest!
But the funnest is whizzing through forty parents in three hours--so, let's see, that is, hmmm, carry the one,... less that five minutes per conference and in the middle of that, being pulled aside by an administrator and told that someone asked her to tell me to move it a long a little faster! That's the absolute funnest!
Actually, I hadn't done the math at the time (there may be some irony in that statement) but now that I have, I'm dwelling on it and getting pisseder and pisseder at her. I saw 40 parents. I talked for three hours straight. They can't honestly expect me to have spoken LESS than five minutes with those parents. As it was I was ending conversations quickly. How much faster should I have gone?
"HiyourkidhasaCheneedstostudymorekthnxbieeee"??????
She can bite me.
I'm going to go to bed now, and dream sweet sweet dreams of staying very very quiet and not talking to anyone for three, maybe four days. Ahhhh...
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Coming out from under
I've been sick this week. It started off with a "No, I'll be fine... soon..." and ended with a whimper. I finally called in sick on Thursday. And then I slept till noon. And went back to bed at eight. Apparently I'd been sicker than I thought.
I'm still not 100%, but I'd say I'm about 98%. Anyway, that is both my excuse and my reason for not posting this week. Excuse, because "I've been siiiiick", but also reason because: well, I've been sick, so really, very little interesting has made it past the concrete in my head to make much of an impression.
This next week is the Week O' Appointments. One on Wednesday, one on Friday--probably. As these things go. And the only time the Friday one could be scheduled was midday, so I'm burning more sick time then. Life would be so much easier if I were a lady of leisure. I'd be batshit crazy by now, but I wouldn't have to worry about using up sick days and making sub plans and rearranging lesson plans for doctor's appointments.
And while I'm at it: we're paying these dudes enough, really--couldn't they have appointment times AFTER, oh, 3:30? I'm just saying.
These are kind of high-stakes appointments, so I'm kind of trying not to think about them for right now. Kind of. Denial! Operation Distracts-a-Lot: go get makeovers with Emily! Go car shopping and test drive new cars! Go to the convention center and see the Home Remodelers Show! Watch a lot of netflix! Cook! Gah, even grading was a good distraction for a couple hours today.
And of course, while wandering these hallowed halls of American consumerism, I manage to run into my fertile collegues with spousal units in tow. One, Miss I Need MILK for My HEARTBURN, while she was coming out of Motherhood Maternity (not awkward! not awkward at ALL!), and the other at the convention center, wrangling her boys and her little girl.
Because sometimes, apparently the Powers That Be don't want me distracted.
I'm still not 100%, but I'd say I'm about 98%. Anyway, that is both my excuse and my reason for not posting this week. Excuse, because "I've been siiiiick", but also reason because: well, I've been sick, so really, very little interesting has made it past the concrete in my head to make much of an impression.
This next week is the Week O' Appointments. One on Wednesday, one on Friday--probably. As these things go. And the only time the Friday one could be scheduled was midday, so I'm burning more sick time then. Life would be so much easier if I were a lady of leisure. I'd be batshit crazy by now, but I wouldn't have to worry about using up sick days and making sub plans and rearranging lesson plans for doctor's appointments.
And while I'm at it: we're paying these dudes enough, really--couldn't they have appointment times AFTER, oh, 3:30? I'm just saying.
These are kind of high-stakes appointments, so I'm kind of trying not to think about them for right now. Kind of. Denial! Operation Distracts-a-Lot: go get makeovers with Emily! Go car shopping and test drive new cars! Go to the convention center and see the Home Remodelers Show! Watch a lot of netflix! Cook! Gah, even grading was a good distraction for a couple hours today.
And of course, while wandering these hallowed halls of American consumerism, I manage to run into my fertile collegues with spousal units in tow. One, Miss I Need MILK for My HEARTBURN, while she was coming out of Motherhood Maternity (not awkward! not awkward at ALL!), and the other at the convention center, wrangling her boys and her little girl.
Because sometimes, apparently the Powers That Be don't want me distracted.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
I love to be a student.
So, that conference.
One of the few benefits from my school dsitrict is that they will reimburse up to $550 or so a year of expenses, and if you don't spend it, it rolls over. Since I haven't spent anything for two years, I've got some bucks saved up, and I decided that since I like this AP Stats gig, I might as well really go for it. The folks that own the AP brand (and, seriously, make no mistake: it is a brand, just like American Eagle, Hollister, Dell, and Converse) run institutes all across the country and so I signed up.
I took one of these last year, up in northern Washington, which--uck, so much suckitude, other than the fact I got to hang with a dear dear friend of mine and his wife.
(speaking of which: mental note--they have a baby due. Is it a boy or a girl? Must check into that.)
But I figured this institute was in driving range, and wouldn't fuck (tooo much) with our Make A Goddamn Baby plans for the summer and I could still, you know, progress as a teacher, so hey! Everyone wins!
And of course, it falls right in the week of every cycle that is the Put Everything On Hold week. When calculating weeks and shit in the spring, I thought the PEOH week would be NEXT week, but apparently I miscounted. PEOH week is, um, FUN (or not), but I'll talk about that some other time.
Anyway, I'm in this training.
And. Um. I LOVE it.
Yeah, sure, I'll bitch about the class, about the 25% who have no idea what they're talking about but still insist on FUCKING TALKING. And maybe I'll bitch about the teacher, who isn't very good at getting people in line and making them shut up. And sure, I know, Teachers Make The Worst Students (ask me sometime about the Freedom Finger learning experience...). But I love being a student.
I love it.
I am actually learning some cool projects that I could do as a 1-day or 2-day thing that really do make the "Ah-ha!" light go on (or at least they did for me). Hard concepts, like transformations, or how to explain R-squared, or whatever Stats-associated topic may come up... this instructor has some great material. It makes me think, and I actually do understand some things better because of what I've learne.d I will be a better teacher because of this class. And soon I have to do some homework for it, but first I'll finish this because...
Also? Hee. I ran into another teacher from my district. Not from my school--there aren't any (which actually is a surprise). But this teacher (who rocks, ROCKS!) and I know each other from some post-grad classes we took together. Turns out she's going to be teacing some of the same classes as me and asked how AP Stats had gone. Oh, I said, I had a 90% success rate. THAT WAS YOU?!?!?! she asked.
Huh?
Apparently there is some talking. At the district level. ABOUT ME. That she overheard. Because an influential parent said, "LOOK at this teacher with the 90% passing rate: you can't TELL me that teaching doesn't affect that." Emphasis, by the way, on influential.
SQUEE!
So yeah, despite that PEOH factor of this week, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm a rocking teacher, and I'M GOING TO BE EVEN BETTER.
One of the few benefits from my school dsitrict is that they will reimburse up to $550 or so a year of expenses, and if you don't spend it, it rolls over. Since I haven't spent anything for two years, I've got some bucks saved up, and I decided that since I like this AP Stats gig, I might as well really go for it. The folks that own the AP brand (and, seriously, make no mistake: it is a brand, just like American Eagle, Hollister, Dell, and Converse) run institutes all across the country and so I signed up.
I took one of these last year, up in northern Washington, which--uck, so much suckitude, other than the fact I got to hang with a dear dear friend of mine and his wife.
(speaking of which: mental note--they have a baby due. Is it a boy or a girl? Must check into that.)
But I figured this institute was in driving range, and wouldn't fuck (tooo much) with our Make A Goddamn Baby plans for the summer and I could still, you know, progress as a teacher, so hey! Everyone wins!
And of course, it falls right in the week of every cycle that is the Put Everything On Hold week. When calculating weeks and shit in the spring, I thought the PEOH week would be NEXT week, but apparently I miscounted. PEOH week is, um, FUN (or not), but I'll talk about that some other time.
Anyway, I'm in this training.
And. Um. I LOVE it.
Yeah, sure, I'll bitch about the class, about the 25% who have no idea what they're talking about but still insist on FUCKING TALKING. And maybe I'll bitch about the teacher, who isn't very good at getting people in line and making them shut up. And sure, I know, Teachers Make The Worst Students (ask me sometime about the Freedom Finger learning experience...). But I love being a student.
I love it.
I am actually learning some cool projects that I could do as a 1-day or 2-day thing that really do make the "Ah-ha!" light go on (or at least they did for me). Hard concepts, like transformations, or how to explain R-squared, or whatever Stats-associated topic may come up... this instructor has some great material. It makes me think, and I actually do understand some things better because of what I've learne.d I will be a better teacher because of this class. And soon I have to do some homework for it, but first I'll finish this because...
Also? Hee. I ran into another teacher from my district. Not from my school--there aren't any (which actually is a surprise). But this teacher (who rocks, ROCKS!) and I know each other from some post-grad classes we took together. Turns out she's going to be teacing some of the same classes as me and asked how AP Stats had gone. Oh, I said, I had a 90% success rate. THAT WAS YOU?!?!?! she asked.
Huh?
Apparently there is some talking. At the district level. ABOUT ME. That she overheard. Because an influential parent said, "LOOK at this teacher with the 90% passing rate: you can't TELL me that teaching doesn't affect that." Emphasis, by the way, on influential.
SQUEE!
So yeah, despite that PEOH factor of this week, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm a rocking teacher, and I'M GOING TO BE EVEN BETTER.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
End of Summer.
I have been spectacularly unproductive this week. About the most useful things I've done are: I gave blood, and I squeegeed the new storm door.
I had to use my new 99-cent IKEA squeegee which by the way has a name. It's the LETTEN. So even a 99-cent squeegee has a goofy Swedish name.
And in trying to google what the name of the squeegee is, I found folks who are selling the squeegee! On Ebay! For $2.99!!!! That's some markup.
Anyway, my summer is basically over--next week I'm in AP training again. I know, your pity is overwhelming. But it's part relief and part disappointment. I get to have a purpose every day again, a reason to shower and get dressed again. On the other hand, I haven't reorganized the basement like I had planned to, cleaned out the garage like I had planned to.
I did this training last year, but I did it in waaaaaay northern Washington, so I had to sleep in a hotel every night. It basically sucked. Now I get to do this training here and come home every night which is way cool. Plus, I couldn't have gone away this week anyway, because I'll have at least one if not two doctor's appointments this week which would have been difficult from waaaaaaay northern Washington.
So, bye bye summer, hello fall. Hello Back to School clothes (thank you Mommy!), reasons to wear new super cute shoes, and homework. Good bye aimless lonely days, copious free time, and America's Next Top Model marathons. See you on the other side.
I had to use my new 99-cent IKEA squeegee which by the way has a name. It's the LETTEN. So even a 99-cent squeegee has a goofy Swedish name.
And in trying to google what the name of the squeegee is, I found folks who are selling the squeegee! On Ebay! For $2.99!!!! That's some markup.
Anyway, my summer is basically over--next week I'm in AP training again. I know, your pity is overwhelming. But it's part relief and part disappointment. I get to have a purpose every day again, a reason to shower and get dressed again. On the other hand, I haven't reorganized the basement like I had planned to, cleaned out the garage like I had planned to.
I did this training last year, but I did it in waaaaaay northern Washington, so I had to sleep in a hotel every night. It basically sucked. Now I get to do this training here and come home every night which is way cool. Plus, I couldn't have gone away this week anyway, because I'll have at least one if not two doctor's appointments this week which would have been difficult from waaaaaaay northern Washington.
So, bye bye summer, hello fall. Hello Back to School clothes (thank you Mommy!), reasons to wear new super cute shoes, and homework. Good bye aimless lonely days, copious free time, and America's Next Top Model marathons. See you on the other side.
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