Vactions and Resolutions...

This is the vacations of which people dream.

You can say what you will about teaching. The hours are long. The children can be crazed. The parents crazier.  You can say all that, but the vacation time is the BEST.  Most people struggle to have Thanksgiving and Christmas time off. For us, it's a given!

Holiday Break has started and I am so in need of these 16 days and 10 hours of vacation. It is my intent to spend it resting and determining what is important for me in the New Year. I have plans for my students and myself and before I get started on all that I am going to take 16 days and 10 hours of vacation.

Enjoy your holiday.

Food Fetish...

There is a little boy in fifth grade that just happens to have lunch at the same time that I pick up my students from the cafeteria. He is a little overweight and I happened to notice him one day because his love of the tater tot is something to witness.

I have never seen someone in my life enjoy food like this little boy. I make it my business to get to the cafeteria to see what he is eating and HOW he is eating it.

Today I mention to his teacher about just how funny his love of all things lunchroom are to me. She, too, had noticed how he love to eat and told me a story about he first few days of school. This story is now special to me because it not only will describe this kid for you, but also give you a little insight on the kids in my school.

So the teacher asked the class to tell her about their families. The children told how many brothers and sisters they had, if they lived with their grandparents and the like.  Then she gets to one student who tells her that he has four brothers and five sisters.

She was shocked at such a large number of kids.  She asked if that included him and he said no; he made the tenth child.

So the little chunky boy turns to him with what the teacher decribes as a look of lust, admiration, and downright euohoria and says:

"Wow...I bet that means y'all get a whole LOT of foodstamps!!"

Love this job!

Overheard #2

"They will just have to wait until we can do testing...and that is just that."

Well, that is just danty! See first you said that we could not go ahead with the evaluation until we get a hearing screening. Now that we are screened, we can't get any devices becuase we need to have an

wait for it...

 evaluation.

Love it! Love my job!

Inbox Full

I usually have at least two truly interesting parents. Here are my two for today.

Message from mom this morning (written in purple crayon...on a scrap of notebook paper...a quarter scrap...diagonally)

Tiffany 555-1234

Please call me if Zerica gets worster. She was trying to get sick this morning. OK?

See you thought I was going to say something about the word 'worster'. Too easy. The 'OK' is what was funny to me. Just for giggles I said "OK" to the piece of paper. I did not want her to think I was ignoring her. And just as an aside,  she may have been trying to get sick at home,well she succeeded at school today (see previous post about how I feel about throwing up').

This is just that time of year where kids get sick.  We have had some unusually cold weather for the last week. I know that in my neck of the woods we are not really accustomed to these temps, but it does not negate the fact that  you should bundle up your baby!!  On a 23 degree morning your child should not come to school with no socks,wearing footies, no coat, and a thin t-shirt (no undershirt). Of course she is sick.  However, when I call mom, this should not be the message:

(Laughs) Hey, 'dis Shell.  And (laughs) hey all y'all player hating bitches. I know you mad because ya know I got your man.  But leave me a message and I will get at 'cha when I can.

I was confused.  Though I can be bitchy, I have never thought of myself as a 'player hating bitch'.  Then I was confused because if you've got my man (OK that is a laugh...let's change that) or whomsoever man you have, I really should be mad at him because he is not treating you right.  my baby has a coat.  Can you ask him to get your baby a WalMart jacket and some socks?! I mean, since you got him and all.


But see, that would be me player hating.

 

I love my job!!

Technical Difficulties...

Teachers attend a crap load of workshops!

As a matter of fact, the main reason behind my not posting for the last week or so has been the fact that I have spent a chunk of time sitting in workshops. I can now say that I can instruct my student explicitly and with fidelity and within one more workshop will be able to mentor new teacher into doing the same!

Gotta love the workshop!

Seriously, what I really love about workshops is that there is this chance to meet other people. Quite honestly, as teachers our daily social exchange is limited to within the classroom. On days when my co-teacher is out, there is a strong chance that I will not see or talk to another adult. So, at least for me, the benefit of the workshop is twofold: I don't have to be in class for the day, AND I get to talk to grown-ups. The latter is pretty cool.

If you have read past posts you are aware that I work at an 'urban, innercity' school (if you have not read past post do so now...I'll wait) and you know how much I hate that term. However, for the purpose of today's post, it truly describes the disparity of what is going on.

Teachers are given laptops each year.  My laptop is a refurbished (let's call it what it is, OLD) HP ThinkCentre. I don't even think they make these anymore, but it works so I am OK. Truth be told I really did not want these folks laptop in the first place, but you are kinda forced to take it. It is thick and cumbersome, but I drag it to workshops like a good little teacher. Because I am in an 'urban' school, many of our workshops are geared toward schools in the same demographic (you know what I mean...) so usually everyone has this antiquated laptop.

Anyway this last workshop was different because there were a mixture of teachers from across the city. All with their school supplied laptops. 

Then I noticed something.

Everyone did not have the same laptop! As folk began pulling out their laptops and logging on I noticed that a lot of teachers had these new, thin, Macs. Then I started listening as the cursory introductions were done and noticed that the folks with the Mac were from schools like Chimney Lakes and Alamacany. And, no, neither of those school were 'urban' or 'inner city', hell a couple of schools were in places I had never heard of.

WHAT THE HELL!!

I have been lugging around what amounts  to  six bricks and a small child on my back and these folk have a Mac? I got questions. And since were were having this training in the building that housed the IT department...well, you know what happened:

Me: Good Morning.

IT Guy: Good Morning. May I help you.

Me: Well, I am interested in turning in my computer and upgrading to one of the Macs that the teachers are being given.

IT: I'm sorry?

Me: Sorry for what? I would just like to give you this ThinkCentre and get a Mac please.

IT: I am sorry it does not work that way.

Me: OK, well what way does it work?

IT: Those computers were limited and unfortunately were distributed to newer schools and new teachers.

Me: No.

IT: No?

Me: No, they were not. I need a new response from you because that is not a true statement.

IT: What do you mean?

Me: Well, a good friend of mine is a new teacher this year and she was told that she could not have a computer because there are none. And several teachers in training right now are at schools that are not new. Namely Chimney Lakes and Alamacany.  And the women in there are definitely NOT new teachers (I'm sorry ladies if either of you are reading this, but um....y'all have each been teachers for some time. Yeah. That's the right way to put it.).

IT:Well, um...there are just no more to give out.

Me: But you have NEW teachers and schools that have them and got them this year.

You see I did a small survey of the room before I left. It seems that the teachers with the newer computers are either at really well to do schools or schools that are newly built. Those of us that teach in the hood are given what they have turned in.  God forbid that Nook-Nook and 'Dem see a Mac at our school and take it home with them as a parting gift since little Le'Monjello did not pass kindergarten.

IT: Let me see your laptop.

So I took it out of the case and sat it on the counter with a thud. The look on his face told me that I must have one of the FIRST laptops the school system has ever given out.

IT: Wow.

Me: Yep. Wow.

He then went on to give me the scoop (I have failed to mention that he was a Black man, and I guess after seeing this decided to give me to low down on why he could not help a sister out and give her the hook up. 

(My Caucasian friends, talk to your African American friends about the 'hook up' if you don't understand, it is too much to go into here and would get me off topic.)

It seems that those nice newer computers were given to just what schools and new teachers they wanted to give them to. The rest of us will have to make due with leftovers. And get this, even if my laptop breaks there is no new laptop for me to have. At least not at my urban school. (So there goes my plan for my laptop to mysteriously get some kinda virus and become completely useless!)

Ain't this some madness? Now, I am required to teach with the same fidelity as any other school in my district but I get whatever is leftover to do that. Most of the computers in our computer lab have another school's name crossed out.  When we did receive newer models for the classrooms this year, yep, they were from other schools. Some don't even work. And we were only allowed three per room where we used to have four and no, we could not keep our old ones and have a full computer center in our rooms. I bet those Chimney Lake chicks have a damn IT department at their schools (no, I am not jealous...well, maybe a little...).

I am saddened to think that there is some other school out there in a worse predicament than mine that got OUR old computers! I can't imagine where that might be though. Maybe somewhere on the side of a mountain in the woods and over the river.  Poor teachers there are probably sending email by carrier pigeon!

It's OK (not) still love my job!

Overheard #2

"You guys are so aggravating!"

OK we can be a little loud, but aggravating?  Well...maybe a little! :)

Love my job!

Grits and Corn...(WTF)

As much as you know I love my job, there are a couple things that I really hate about teaching first grade. Today we will talk about one of them.

Throwing up.

Over the last 6 years I have avoided throw-up like the plague that it is. I am not the one to throw up because someone else has, but I just really hate the whole concept.  Truth be told, throw up is just one of the hazards of teaching first grade students.

Before I go on with this story I must also let you in on a couple things about me. One is that I am (kinda) bougie. If you are reading this and you are not sure what that means you are most likely Caucasian.  It is too much to get into, so I would suggest talking to one of your African American friends for clarification and questioning.

The other thing is that I hate...HATE...HATE for my food to touch. Well, some foods. There is a list of foods that can touch but it is too much to get into. To keep things simple, folk usually just leave me to making my own plate, letting me direct them as to how to put food on my plate, or (usually for picnics) making sure I have the plastic plates that are so nicely compartmentalized and keep all foods in their own neat space.

Now that you know all this, we can continue.

One of my very best and most polite students has had several episodes over the last few weeks where she just leans over and throws up. Usually it is in the middle of my reading class. It takes me a minute or 30 to get past it.  Of course then there is the whole bother of having to get the custodians to clean up the mess and get the child off to the clinic.

Well, today this happened (AGAIN! UGH!) and I decided I would call her mom.

Me: Hi, Ms. T. I am sorry to bother you at work but Asia has thrown up again. She would like someone to come get her.

Mom: Again? Wow. That is really unusual. I will have her dad come get her.

Me: Yeah. I was thinking that too. Do you think that it is something that she is allergic to? Could she be lactose intolerant.

Mom: Well, I don't know. I never thought of that. We usually don't have a problem with dairy at home. And she usually does not throw up unless she is sick or has a bug coming on.

Right here  you should be able to tell that this is on of my favorite parents. No foolishness. No uh-huh's like Flo-Jo.

Me: Well let me ask her what she had for lunch today.

So I call the student over. She has to be one of my most intelligent students and she really is a pleasure to have in the room. I am sure that if I ask her a question she can give me a straight answer.

Me: What did you have for lunch today?

SB(she is my smart bunny):  Grits and corn.

Me: Grits and corn?

WHAT  DA HELL!

Mom (still on phone): Grits and corn?

Me: What do you mean grits and corn? You mean rice, right?

OK right here is the point. I cannot imagine grits and corn being served to the students. So of course I am going to make it be something else.

SB: No, Ms. G. Grits and corn.


Me: Were the pieces together or separate little white pieces (I am gonna make this be rice if it kills me!!)

SB: No ma'am. Grits.


Me: No way. Not mashed potatoes?


SB:  Nope. Grits and corn.

At this point she gives me this look that pretty much says that she could not believe that they put that mess on her plate either. By this time the whole class has erupted into a story about grits and corn.  They  are explaining to me that for lunch they had a choice of hot dog, cheese pizza, chicken nuggets and grits and corn.

AND IT WAS MIXED TOGETHER!!!


I grabbed my chest and damn near fainted. Neither the "no mixing" part of my brain nor the bougie part could stand much more! No wonder the child was throwing up. All that fiber in one meal had to find some way out!!

"That's just damn nasty!" I forget that the kids were in the room and that mom was on the phone.  Luckily she thought my disgust about grits and corn was just as funny as the kids.

Me: Mom....let me call you back because there is no way this is true.

So I left my room to find out the truth about lunch.

I am next door to a second grade class. I asked the teacher to let me talk to one of her students that had some sense.

Me:  Hey, what did you have for lunch today?

The student goes on to tell me about all the items for lunch including grits and corn.  I had this bright idea: maybe this older child knew the difference between grits, mashed potatoes and rice. Nope...grits and corn (UGH!). The little part of me that likes to keep my food separate asked one final question:

"Was it mixed together...or in the separate containers?"

You guessed it. All stirred up in the pot together.

Who does this? I left the room shaking my head and thinking that I too, at six years old might have thrown up if given a plate of grits and corn. Yuck!

On the way back to my room I tried my luck with a not so bright student that happen to be in the hall. Secretly, deep down inside I was hoping that the other student had somehow heard my disgust over grits and corn with some kind of  super hearing a' la Superman and was playing a cruel joke.  Surely, this child would not be that bright and give me an honest answer.

Me: Hey, what did you have for lunch today?

KIH (kid in the hall): Hot dogs.


Me: Really?


KIH: Yes, and grits and corn.

Last ditch effort:

Me: Grits and corn seperately?


KIH: No....they was all together.



YUCK!!!!

Who does that?

I love my job (but the cafeteria is another story LOL)!

Overheard #1

"She walks around here like she thinks she is cute."

(This is from a parent...yep...FloJo. )

Well, duh?  Who would walk around intentionally thinking that they are ugly. And honestly, if you looked at your age how I look at my age, you, too would tend to think that you are cute.

Just one of those days today, I guess.

Love my job though! 

Name Games

I love Thanksgiving break! It comes right when you are just about to loose your mind and gives you at least 3 days away from students and lesson plans and all the stuff teachers have to think about.

Today started off pretty well. After my five day weekend (did I mention how much I LOVE Thanksgiving break?) I have returned to work in my favorite Nicole Miller dress and Jimmy Choo boots. Sometimes it even surprises me that I can get around so deftly on those 41/2 inch heels, but I love the shoes and they are surprisingly comfortable.

You would think that all would be great on the first day back, but of course there is something to vent about. Let me let you in on a little secret:

I teach first grade.

Not such a little secret, right?

Well, here's the deal. I spend the majority of my day teaching students how to use letters and sounds to read. There are 26 letters in our alphabet. Some of them have more than one sound. Then there are the blends and digraphs and clusters that then just foolishness that you have to remember to become a good reader (I for the life of me have never been able to figure out why the word 'daughter' is not pronounces daft-ter, considering it is just one letter away from the work laughter...go figure).  It is hard enough to maneuver around all those sounds without parents just confusing me and the kids with how they spell their name.

I mean come on....spelling your name should be one of the simplest things you should have to do in life. I am a wiz at changing I's and Y's in names...but when you complete change the sound a letter makes?

I got a new student today.  His name is Adan.  It is pronounces A-don. Now, just so happens today we are reading a book call "Dan and Dad".  He is saying  "Don and Dad" and rightfully so considering the spelling and pronunciation of his name.  So, what I then have to do is spend time explaining to this student that most of the time a has an "a" sound like cat.  Not and "o" sound like octopus.  He says to me that his name is spelled correctly and wants to give a lecture on sounds.

I really just did not have the time today. I will try it again tomorrow.  I can not spend too much time on first day back going over letter sounds.

I just "con" not.

Read all about it...

This will be quick since I really need to go to bed. It is just something  that has been on my mind for a few days now.

I have written about how teachers write in student's agendas for correspondence. Well, I just found out that one of the agenda's that I have been writing in A LOT is going to a home where none of the adults can read. Now this disturbs me in so many ways.

1. I never hear anything from the parents ( and there are no phone numbers that are valid), are they having someone translate.
2. Is the kid translating (?)...because sadly she cannot read either so she is probably making up some story every night about how good her teacher said she was in class.

And most importantly...

Do I still have to write notes in this child's binder?

And how do you even open up that topic with the parent?

Stuff to ponder as I drift off to sleep.

Hmmm....love the job!

Quiet As it is Kept...

I will talk to ANYONE. Especially someone who is new to our school.  Truth be told it is a hard place to be. Especially if you have come in the middle of the year.

We were just able to get a librarian. She has come from a school in an affluent side of town. She is a REALLY good librarian  and I know in my heart of hearts that if she were not surplussed and pretty much made to go where she was need we would not have been her first  second  millionth choice.

But she is here now.  So there!

Just so happened I walked into the library early one morning we got into a conversation. She mentioned that we were like 'no other place she had been'. She said she felt it would be a challenge (like most of us do) and that she would just have to buckle down and make it work. She did not use the words 'urban' or 'inner city' one time.

 I immediately liked her.

By chance I ran into her today and she mentioned that she had been having a hard time with her classes. She was recruiting teachers to stay in the library with there classes until she could get a better feel of the students.

I like my planning time.

Today when I went to pick my kids up she leaned over and whispered..."Thank you...this has been the most normal thing to happen to me all day."

I laughed.  " Not a problem."

What she did not know was I told those jokers that if I got a bad report back from her they were going to have a very short lunch and a VERY long punishment.  I don't like to be embarrassed.

Needless to say...everyone had a leisurely lunch

The Return of Flo-Jo...

Ever had one of those days where you just did not want to go to work. Today was my day, but considering that we have a vacation next week and an extended vacation two weeks later, I decided to just take one for the team and bring my butt into work.

This morning I experienced a comedy of errors on my way to work.  Long story short, the line at the Starbuck's was so incredibly long this morning that it was a waste of time even thinking about getting in line. So, I decided on a quick run to Wal-mart, where as I check my items out, realized that I did not have a debit card.  I did not panic, because I remember it was on the dresser back home. No worries, I will go to the ATM and get some cash for today.

No, Stupid, you don't have a debit card, remember?

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! JAMES!!!!

So here I am at work SUPER early.  Really not a bad thing because I got some stuff done.  I started the normal morning routine of picking the kids up from breakfast in the cafeteria.  It was 8:30.  I did not see Lil Crackish in line, so I just assumes that he was either tardy or maybe not coming today.

So, my co-teacher and I continue with our normal routine: take the kids for a quick morning potty break and head to class.  This usually takes around 10 minutes to get all 24 kids in and out of the bathroom and back in line.  Just for the record, our time to beat on that exercise is 8.5 minutes.

Now it is 8:40 we are running a bit behind schedule and who walks up? FloJo (see Breakfast of Crackhead Champions). 

Conversation:

Me: Good Morning.

FJ:  He dun had his breakfass I ain't goin' thru all that mess with y'all today.

Insert my confused look here. How the hell did Good Morning warrant all that?

Me: OK

Then it happened. This chick throws her hand in my face and says "Whatever" and walks (crackishly) away.

My co-teacher knows me very well because her first response was to grab my arm. And tell me "It's really not worth it"

So we began our march through the hall and it seems that FloJo has been in the front office and is coming out and mumbles just loud enough about how " She don't need us to feed her baby.  These bitches crazy. It's not that serious over some damn cereals"  (and yes, she used the 's'...so obviously she is counting every little flake in the bowl individually.)

Click...game on.

Me:  If it were not so serious that your baby get this cereal and milk, you would not be up here early complaining.   Quite honestly,  I can understand that you really should have to get him here early for some breakfast.  You can spend that time with him at the drive through...or better still...how about you make him some breakfast. Then you really won't have to worry about the bitches or breakfast.

Before she could speak I turned and did my own FloJo walk away.

It's sad that we have to argue with parents about feeding their kids. WTF?  I really wish I would have had that cup of coffee this morning.

It's almost Friday....and I still love my job!

The Q&A Post...

First, I must say that I am kinda excited that someone reads my little blog AND has questions about the post. On the off chance that someone else has questions, I have decided to post them and do a quick Q&A:


1. Why...., why does {Hubby} ask that baby what pimpslapping is when his normal conversation can be riddled with the word "pimp'in"....?

I think because in his normal conversation he is using "pimin'" as a noun as in " What's up, Pimpin?" BabyGirl has gone to definition #2 and used it as an adjective to describe how she is choosing to slap someone. Also, it's just catches you off guard to know that your child is slapping someone like a pimp.

2. What will you do if the baby asks to wear the "Choo's" today?

Pimpslap her!! (C'mon...you saw that coming!)

3. Sasquatch? That's some out loud laughing.

Dems some big foots!!! (LOL)

4. How tall is the teacher? The reason we ask, well if babygirl is taller than me, the teacher has much more to be worried about, at least we think.

She is about my height. So she is safe at least until the end of the school year spring break next week.

5. On a more serious note, are the parents of this child considering the procedure to help with the lisp?

You know, they spoke of it before but nothing came of it. The procedure was kinda scary at the time and she was so young. May need to revisit. I can say that over the years it has become a little less noticeable. She has had some speech classes.

6. How tall was the chic that got the "slapp'age"...?

The size of a normal 5th grader. In my opinion SHE is the baddest chick on the block because she had the nerve to go up to her and hit her with the book. I think it had to be a dare. She lost.

7. As a women, how much credit do you take for the attitude of baby girl knowing that she may need to pull out the can of "slapp'age"? I mean, at some point, I'm sure you've had the talk with babygirl about how to take care of herself if need be. Yes/No?

Here is the truth: Sometimes you have to defend yourself. At her age I was tall, skinny, dark skinned, and wore some incredibly thick glasses. There were many times when I should have pimpslapped someone. I think that she has to defend herself a lot and she gets a lot of blame because of her size. People forget that she has feelings too. So yes, I take credit for telling her to be good to people, be kind, tell people to stop...and then knock them bitches out when they don't listen. LOL

8. How does babygirls mom feel about the forward/backward slapp'age like a pimp incident?

She was upset about the whole incident, though I believe that she taught her how to do it in the first place.

9. Is there a school of "slapp'age" of which one can attend? And if so, how did babygirl get it given her knowledge of said "pimpslapping"?

No formal school. There is a book. It is however best to learn from a Master. Kinda like that boy did in Karate Kid. "Wax on. Wax off."

10. Is there an etiquette to the "pimp slap"? In the story, a warning was given, and the collar of the "slapp-ie" was held. Is this the proper etiquette?

Truly a pimpslap should come by surprise. So she really should not  have given the warning. Then again, she was trying to do the right thing. The collar holding is perfect form because it does not allow any time for the "slap-ee" to move during the down hand and return. LOL

Just 10 questions from your adoring fans....

(And I thank you...because you know I love my job!)

I Love it!

OK I love this song and I love the Sesame Street muppet's song too! So here it is...the best of both world's. Best believe I play it in the classroom!!

The Perfect Child...

...does not exist.

I have three stepchildren that, because they have eaten all my food and relieved me of most of my money and valuables, I secretly consider to be my biological children. I also think that through some form of osmosis they have acquired some of my genetic makeup. I see it in the little things they do...especially the girl.

Now, I know that this site is primarily for me to talk about the kids in my class. If you have read through these entries, you should be able to pick up that I have some kids with some real problems in this room. Today you will learn that I have problems at home sometimes too.

BabyGirl is 10 years old. To be fair and so that you will better understand some things as the story goes on is about 5'8" and is currently wearing a size 10 shoe (just an aside...I am so incredibly happy about the size of her Sasquatch feet because it means that by the time she is of heel wearing age she will clearly be WAY past my current size 10...the Jimmy Choos are saved! HALL-EE-LOO- JAH!!). She is a gentle giant. Though she looks like she should be the bully, standing at least a half a foot taller than her classmates, she is usually not the one to cause a problem. But heaven help you if you make her mad!

"You wouldn't like me when I am mad!" The only thing this child doesn't do when she is mad is turn green and rip up her pants.

For your entertainment I have included a transcript from a conversation she had with her father just this past Friday:


Hubby: What happened at school that I had to get this note from the teacher?

BG: Daddy that girl just will not stop bothering me!!

Hubby: Did you tell the teacher? We have talked before about you telling the teacher.

BG: Not this time. But I did before...but Daddy I TOLD HER TO LEAVE ME ALONE!

I need to insert here that my stepdaughter's family is from the Bahamas so she has a hard Bahamian accent AND she also has a bit of a lisp. So just so you can get the true feel, pronounce Daddy more like DAAAA-DEEE.


Hubby: So what happened?

BG: Well, me and Kishaunna were sitting at the table and theN she comes all walking up and talking junk!

Hubby: Junk?

BG: Yes, Da-dee junk. Just some old foolishness.

(That's my osmosis gene coming in right there!)

Hubby: So then what?

BG: She kept talking about some old stupid stuff and them she took this book she had and she pushed it in my stomach and I told her that if she did it again I was gonna pimp slap her.


Hubby: What do you mean pimp slap?


BG: Da-dee you know! It's when you grab them by the collar and you hit them like this and like this and like this.


OK, so you can picture it, BabyGirl has just demonstrated the a textbook chapter 6 pimp slap to her father using the very skilled front and back hand technique. In an odd way I am proud that she has mastered the technique at such a young age. (just kidding folk...geesh!)

Hubby: So then what happened?


BG: She pushed the book in my stomach again and I HAD to pimp slap her because I had said I would. (Well, you do have to keep your promises.)


Hubby: Do yo really think that was a good reason to hit the girl like that?

BG: Well, Da-dee....don't you? (Yeah...that's me right there too!)


By this time they had made it to school and Hubby began his conversation with the teacher. She said that she was going to send her to the office on a referral, but after hearing the whole story and the account from her classmates, she was going to let it go with just a notification to her parents.

Well, she did warn her to stop.

The teacher also mentioned that she had caught the incident at the point of where BabyGirl performed her "pimpslap" and said that it was a perfect pimpslap. Now what kind of concerns me is that the teacher can recognize a perfect pimpslap. This can only mean that she has either pimpslap someone with perfection or that she has dated a pimpslap-er.

I tell the children to strive for perfection in all that they do. BabyGirl has taken this to a whole new level.

Just between us, I think the teacher did not give her a referral because she may have been a little scared of getting pimpslapped herself.


I hope she loves her job as much as I do.

Breakfast of Crackhead Champions!

You would think that I would be excited today.

NOT.

Although the kids have an early release day the teachers have marathon trainings and meetings from 1:45 until 5:45. Can't a girl catch a break? Guess not.

This morning, I ran into a parent that I really try to avoid. It is my belief that this chick was or most likely currently IS a crackhead. Yeah, I know you think that all that went out the window with New Jack City, but I am my brother's keeper and I am here to tell you that crackheads are alive and well. Well enough to have spawned small children. They (the children that is), though officially are not crackheads themselves are crack-ish because of their crackhead parents.

Anyway, this chick has all the crackhead qualities: can't stay on topic, scratches too much, moves her mouth unnecessarily, and walks really, REALLY fast. It was that fast crackhead walk that let her catch me this morning. See her argument is that she gets here at 8:31. Breakfast is over at 8:30. Now technically she is late and if Little Crackish is not in the room he is considered tardy. She does not like this, so she has come EXTRA early this morning to argue her point.

(yes, you should be scratching your head right here)

Conversation:

Crack Parent: Mrs. G...Mrs. G...Hey!! Mrs. G

See, I was really hoping that she would think that I was deep in thought and I tried to keep running, but she put her crack run into Flo-Jo mode and caught me. I had to hurry and fix my face before I turned around to her. See these conversations are usually foolish and given my state of mind the last two mornings, I really was just not in the mood.

Me: Good Morning! What's going on?

CP: You know I am sick these people not givin' my baby no breakfass in the mornin? Uh-huh.

That is another crackhead trait...all sentences must end with 'uh-huh'.

Me: Really? The cafeteria staff is usually pretty good about that. Have you talked to the cafeteria manager?

CP: She said that he be coming to late (insert that lip moving mess here) and that she cannot serve him after 8:30. Uh-huh.

Me: I am sorry. Is there anyway you can get here earlier? The kids really do have to get to class.
Now she is yelling at me. Ain't this a bitch!

CP: I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THE HELL THE PROBLEM IS WITH GETTING HIM SOME BREAKFASS IN THE MORNIN'. YOU PEOPLE ACT LIKE YALL IS SERVING SOMETHING ALL SPECIAL. IT'S JUST SOME CERERAL AND SHIT. I CAN TAKE MY BABY TO BURGER KING. Uh-huh.


Now see, I really don't think I deserve that, but since there is a recession and I need this job...

Me: (sigh) You are more than welcome to do just that. He does not have to eat here. However if he eats here, he needs to be here before 8:30.

CP: I can't get here before 8:30. Uh-huh.

Me: Never?

CP: No. Can't you get his breakfass for him? Uh-huh.

She really needs to find her pipe and smoke it if she thinks I am going to serve this child breakfast (or breakfass as she puts it)every damn day. WTF!!!

Me: I can not.

CP: Why not? Uh-huh.

Me: Can you please just try to get here before 8:30?

CP: I can't and I just don't understand why you don't understand that? Uh-huh.

Me: Because you are here now to argue the point and it is 8:00.

At this point she used that same Flo-Jo crackhead sprint to call me a bitch and head to the cafeteria. I bet if I could have seen her face her moutn would have been moving a mile a minute and not saying a thing!!

I love my job! Uh-huh!

My Many Wants...

I really want today to be Friday. Well, not really because I have this feeling that I am going to be forced into doing something this Friday that I don't want to, but I want the FEEL of a Friday.

I want to have a really good meal, something with a large portion of beef and pasta or potatoes. I want to go take a long nap.

I want to get my toes done. And, oh yeah, eyebrows waxed. I no longer want to look like Burt.

I want to finish all my assignments so I don't have to worry about keeping my job.

I want to go shopping.

I promise I will get back to talking about school tomorrow.

Monday...

It's so sad how I really just don't feel like being here today. I am sitting here writing this blog instead of the many things that I should be doing this morning. I think I should have taken a day off. Played hooky.

I really should be excited about this week. I mean it is set to start off great considering how last week ended. The Principal has decided to give us a month off from the endless meetings that tell us when we are scheduled for more meetings about meeting to actually get our rooms in check. The kids did a great job on their parade this past Friday. And, to add gravy to it all, I got the assessment of my students changed from showing that they were all failing to being able to prove that they the are mostly on grade level. Go figure.

I really should be happy to be here today.

I'm just not.

Today I would rather be home in bed watching something senseless and useless on Lifetime. Preferably about something that is 'based on a true story'. I do not want to do read alouds or grade papers. I want to paint my toes and prepare to come to work another day. Today I don't want to deal with the runny noses or the off task behavior.

Today I want to be the one that is off task.

But, I can't. The stress of being a grown up I guess.

So I will teach today, though I would rather be home in my jammies. I am waiting for 3:45 today like a lost lover.

I promise if I just get home tonight I will hit tomorrow with a renewed vigor.

But as for right now, I want to go home.

No love for the job today.

The List...

For your enjoyment and education, I am going start listing things that you did not know about your child's teacher. Included in this list are things that I think that MY parent may think is true of me.


Here goes:

1. I have no family, friends or children of my own. As a matter of fact, I live at the school in a little cubbie under my desk, like George off that episode of "Seinfeld".

2. I make a hell of a lot of money. Therefore I am able to purchase school supplies, tissues and extra clothes for your child with the bladder problem.

3. I am obviously a genius. I not only hold a degree in education, I also hold a Master's in psychology, divinity, and counseling.

4. I was a WWF fighter in a prior life, because I must wrestle your child to the ground when he clicks and starts hitting me.

5. I am awake and ready to talk about your child at all hours (see #1). Yes, you can call me on my cell at either 10:30pm on Tuesday or 7:00am Sunday morning. No, I don't need to go to church or care about what is happening in my family. Nope. I must worry 24/7 about little Le'monjello.

6. Me calling you at work is a serious issue. Especially if it is to talk about the awful behavior of your student. You are at work and must get work done. Get this sister, I am work TOO! Annnnnnd, not only must I work I have to deal with Le'monjello and the fact that he just wet his pants and I don't have a change of clothes for him (see #2).

7. I must NEVER, EVER, EVER call you by your child's last name. It is wrong of me to assume that both names are the same. You don't like that sorryazzgoodfornothingmutherfucker and you wish that you did not name little Le'monjello after him. I should not call you by your other son's last name either.

8. Yes, I am happy to stop in the middle of my class to accommodate talking to you about the letter I sent home saying that your child needed school supplies (see # 2 and 5). I must not, however, be shocked by you ignoring the 6 request I sent to talk about him not being able to read. ...this list will continue at a later date.


(trying to) love my job!

Urban...by definition

I am starting to have a really big problem with the word urban. It started early this summer. I really had not paid attention to the word before, but lately...

Here is the definition of urban, as explained in dictionary.com:

adjective
1. of, pertaining to, or designating a city or town.
2. living in a city.
3. characteristic of or accustomed to cities; citified: He is an urban type.

Now, if you are around my age and happened to be a movie buff, you have heard the word urban used in movies to describe people who live in a city. Usually someone that for whatever reason has been thrown into a county setting. Laughs ensue at their bumbling around the farm, the credits roll. All is well.


Urban has now taken on a different meaning:

adjective

1. Black folk, particularly Black folk who are of a low economic income.

I think what really started making me angry and thinking more about this was hearing some of the teachers (and reading some of their Facebook pages) where they kept referencing my school as an 'urban' school. Or an inner city school. Now don't get me wrong. We are located in the zip code that has my city's highest levels of crimes and murders. I admit it is a rough spot to be in. So, OK, inner city, I might let you have that (but not really).

Urban, however, means that something is not rural. There are no farms or cows or miscellaneous pastures. Urban means city life.

However, urban is starting to mean when there is a high level of Black people. Sometimes when I hear it, I think that it is being used as the politically correct way to say the N word ( I will talk about why I hate folk using that term later). I will give you an example of why I don't like this word. Yes, I said all that other stuff to say this:

I was talking to a teacher that I have talked about before. I am not saying names to protect the innocent, but we seems to be bumping heads a lot here. The subject came up about the use of the word urban. Now, knowing where my school is I tread really lightly on this subject. To give background, not far from my school, maybe a 3 minute drive away is a high school that probably one of the best college prep schools in the area. White folk drive there kids from far across town to attend this high school. They have a high graduation rate and it is pretty hard to get in. It is located in this same area code that is the murder capital of Jacksonville.

Me: Would you consider Stanton an urban school?

OT: No. Not at all.

Me: Well, why?

OT: Well, the type of kids who attend.

Me: Wow...so urban has to do with the people, not the place.

(insert lost look here)

I know this poor woman did not want to say "Well, the Negroes are here, and there they have a mix of the good suburban kids. So it balances out."

If a school is urban it is urban by definition of where it is located. Cows and Chickens (not urban)...big buildings and mass transit (urban). But if you think really hard, you will see that this word is slowly being turned to mean something else. Pay attention.


Still love my (urban) job!

Dear Diary...

The students have agendas. This is pretty much a diary of communication between the parent and teacher.

This is a true story...names have been changed to protect the innocent.


Ms. Allen,

Please sign the attached referral and return to me tomorrow. I am using it for documentation only.

Today Millicent called another student a 'bitch' in the cafeteria. Please talk with her about this language and tell her that is not appropriate for school. If this happens again, another referral will be written and Millicent will be sent to talk to the Assistant Principal.

Thanks, Ms. G



Ms. G,

I am so sorry this happened. I had a LONNNNG talk with Milly last night about how this language is NEVER acceptable. Trust me she was punished for her behavior. Please, I ask that you join me in prayer that this demon of disobedience leaves my child.

Sincerely,

Ms. Allen


True story! Demon!! Wow! I don't know why I found that so funny, but I have been laughing at that all day.Well, as a good educator I am going to do all I can to help! I must. It is my sworn duty. On Monday I am going to bring the bottle of holy water that I got from the cathedral in St. Augustine to help exercise the demon from this baby so that her mother and I can have some peace!

Love my job!

I am so...

Incredibly tired today.

Have you every had a day when everything just went the wrong way? My co-teacher didn't show. There was no emergency plan left for the sub and the sub basically just thought she would have a free day because there was no plan and I teach reading.

NO THE HELL YOU DON'T!

Then there must be a full moon tonight because the kids were off the chain. One little girl so much so that I decided to stop in the middle of class and call her mom. Now, here is the thing: the King should be dead because some of my kids have killed him and the King's English. But today, for this little mama, I know understand.

Here we go:

Ring Ring

Man: 'hlo?

Me: Hello...Hello?

Man: Yuh, I say 'hlo? Whodis?

(Yes, "who is this" is one word. Matter of fact, it is said as one syllable, but I don't know how to write that!)

Me: May I speak to Betty? (this name has been changed to protect the innocent)

Man: Huh no huher. Whodis? (again, one syllable)

Me: This is Ms. Green (child's name here's teacher. Can you ask her to call me please?


Man: Huh at wurk. I say to huh dat u had called.

(I put the letter 'u' there because I really believe in my head he said just the letter and not the word.

So I guess I really can't blame this baby for how she speaks since obviously, that is what is going on at home. And this foolishness just got her a free pass because I know I am not going to call and try to have that conversation later on tonight. Especially with the headache I have now, and the glass of wine I am planning on getting to get over this day.

Also, some kinda way all my grades have been thrown out of the system. The end of the grading period is Friday.


Oh yeah...and I get a new student in the morning!

They better be glad I still love my job or tomorrow they would be saying...


"Huh na huhr"

Sex and the City Teacher

I hate faculty meetings.

Let me say this again: I HATE FACULTY MEETINGS!!

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing specific about meetings here at my new school that I hate. I guess I just hate the group meeting all together. I hated team meetings when I worked at the bank. And, as a bank manager, I hated running team meetings.

Why you ask?

Good question!

Because they always lead to you having to do more work, an extra assignment, more documentation, another lesson plan. Something new to learn and add to an already tight schedule. And usually everyone sits in the meetings and act like they know what the hell the presenter is talking about, no one asks any questions, and then after the meeting the grumbling and complaining begins.

We have one of these marathon meetings today, probably to piggy back on the meeting from last week and as a heads up to the meeting on Saturday. (Yes, I am a teacher that works on Saturdays...uggh)

Sadly, (and I probably should not mention this because now folk will know) there is a moment in most meetings where I go completely glassy eyed. At that moment I am somewhere else...usually an island with Hubby or in my last faculty meeting fantasy the shoe department at Neiman's, and I usually come back to reality at a really odd time.

I am starting to think teachers are a little sexually frustrated, because at least to me, all the things that we talk about have a sexual nature to them. Our class was on 'guided release', which tickled the heck out of me and the folk and my table, but really just means a way of slowly presenting information to students so that they have a greater understanding of the material (hey, maybe I was listening?) Anyway, I zoned out for a moment and I guess during that time we were to turn and talk (yet another method of understanding where you are to pick a partner and discuss the topic at hand). All I remember was the teacher next to me poking me and saying...

"Do you want to have it pushed in or pulled out?"

Me: Huh?

Teaher: Do you want it in or out?

I am sure by the confused look on my face she now knew I had no clue what she was talking about.

Teacher: Do you want another teacher to come into your class and help or do you want them to pull students from your room and go to a different class? (she is giving me the "damn, pay attention" face)

In my head this was a totally different conversation.

Me: Doesn't matter. (I'm giggling like an idiot now) Whatever gets me to where I need to be.


I wonder what today's meeting will be about.


I love my job!!

Ira Sleeps Over...

Writer's Workshop is something we do to help the students become better writers. It usually includes the teacher reading some text that helps to explain the lesson for today.

We talked about dialog and about story endings today. So we read Ira Sleeps Over. I love this book. I just like the cantor of how the children talk to each other.

Who would think of the foolishness going on right under my nose in this story!!

The whole story is about a little boy who has a sleepover at his best friends house, but is afraid to tell him about the fact that he sleeps with a teddy bear.

Well, Ira goes over to his friends house and the friend is showing him around. He takes him to his room and the text reads:


"Ira shows me his junk"


Well you know my kids, before I could read the next sentence that tells about bottle caps and stickers there is a resounding "UGGGGH".

You see, junk means something WAAAAAY different that it meant back in the 70's when they first wrote about Ira.


Love my job!!

Fashionista Teacha...

I like to think of my self as somewhat of a fashionista. I love clothes, especially shoes and bags. I have spent a good chunk of money on shoes and bags. For this reason I am happy that Hubby has a job that pays relatively well.

I also like Fall and Winter. I love when the weather gets cool and crisp and I can wear my sweaters. Notice I said cool and crisp. My family is from Pennsylvannia and that to me is not winter. That is the true definition of hell. North Florida winters are perfect. Cool and pleasant and I don't have to worry about being snowed in waiting on some big dog to come dig me out of my house.

Well anyway today was that first real crisp day so I am dressed straight out of this months issue of InStyle magazine! Great purse...great shoes...textured tights. I am on it!!

Here's the problem:
So I purchased these tights from a store that I rarely buy stuff from. My new found need for accessories has me picking up things here and there instead of shopping around like I used to. One of my best friends (who has truly missed her calling as a stylist) ok'd this purchase.

As I stepped out of the car today, I heard a rip (Aw DAYUMN). And not in a great spot. I'm thinking damn, but happy that I have a tube of body cream in my purse. I can just lotion up and keep going. But the rip never moves down. It goes around.

What the hell?
Anyway by the time I get to my classroom, I am wearing a pair of thigh-high sock that are held together by a fashionable black band. so far this sock combo has held up for most of the day! I wonder what folk would think if they new I was all InStyle on the outside and Ass Out on the inside. LOL

Only me...love my job.

This should not happen on a Friday...

Everyone needs a job.

In this economy, folk that have a job seem to be doing everything to keep their job. In my district I believe it is the folk that can get my students into Special Education.

See the thing is most people really don't WANT their kids in Special Ed. We all remember the jokes about the kids that were in the back of the school in the trailer, or eating lunch at a special table. Some kids really need some extra help!

I have a student who has been retained several times. To meet this child you would immediately realize that this child is in need of servicing. The first thing that I was told to do was to come up with interventions, which is a fancy smancy word for things that I do especailly for the child based on the data I have for the child (test scores and classwork) and work with this child individually. Luckily there is another teacher in the room with me, because the one on one time would be almost impossible.

Anyway for the last 6 weeks we have created a schedule to work with this baby one on one for at least 20 minutes twice a day. We have kept a detailed journal (my co-teacher is OCD so when I say detailed I mean DETAILED). Yesterday I got an email that said that the meeting for to determine servicing for the child was next week. I went to the guidence counselor to see just what forms I needed to transfer all my data to.

"Mrs. Green, I am really not sure."

What the hell?

Seems that the process for servicing children has changed, yet no one seems to know just what the new process and papper work is. I have examples of about 10 sheets of paper I could use, but we are not sure which ones will be accepted.

What the Fuck?
But you want me to fill out the sheets and then sometime next week we will determine if they are the right forms to have filled out.

Y'all got me fucked up.
I left the counselors office in a huff. How in the world can we as educators say that we are here to help the kids and we don't know what we are going to do to help them...or even what forms to fill out?

It's Friday. I give up for today.


Today...I don't love my job so much.

You've Got Balls!

Today we read a story called "A Party for Bob". Long story short, several children walk through the door and have a surprise party for some kid named Bob. We are comparing and contrasting the gifts, what they look like...all that good stuff.

Duval County is big on kids writing in journals. Even in first grade. So usually what we do is allow them to discuss their answers with each other and then write. Believe it or not, it really help them get their little thoughts on the paper.


So today I told the kids to turn and talk to each other about what they would have brought Bob for his party and why. I was the model teacher, y'all! Showed them how I wanted it done on the projector and everything! i was kinda proud of myself.

Since TB did not have a partner today, I decided that I would be her partner and I asked her what she would bring to the party.

Here we go:

Me: What would you bring Bob to the party?

TB: I think I would bring him a ball for a gift.

Now this is great because I just love when they talk to me in a complete sentence and not say stuff like 'because' or "I dunno."

Me: That sounds nice. Why would you bring him a ball?

Wait for it...because you know it's coming

TB: Because he is a boy and they like to play with their balls.


I love my job...

I Told You...(106 and Green Update)

You CAN Electric Slide to anysong!! 106 and Green was a SUCCESS!!


However the teachers around me may give me the side eye later today because it was the CLUB up in here today!






See...told ya...I love my job!

I'm Engaged!!

For those of you who are sitting with your mouth open, no, it does not mean that I have left Hubby.

Today, we had another one of those conversations with the powers that be that say that the students should be engaged. Engaged pretty much means that they should all be active in the lesson at any given time. In short, I have to find ways to put on a show each day with live active particiapants. Luckily for the school system I work for, I am a fool.

Game on!

So this week we are studying the letter O. Today I have come up with a way to make my principal proud!!

It's Ms. Green's dance party 106 and Green. I am playing the song below and I have the whole class doing the Electric Slide (as a Black woman, I firmly believe that you can do the Electric Slide to absolutely any song).

The teacher across the hall from me has already given me the side eye while I was practing. I will let you know how much trouble 106 and Green causes later.

The Insanity Plea...

So we are sitting quitely waiting for 3:45. I have promised a treat to to table that can remain quiet until time for us to line up for dismissal. I am tired. I am ready to go home. In short I have had enough for one day.

A little boy raised his hand to tell me that a little girl in the class was talking. She in turn said that she was talking to herself because that is what she always does.

(WHATDA...?!)

Anyway, there is another little girl in the class who has more mouth than she should She will be called Ms. Talkative Bunny. She always has a comment.

Anyway...it goes like this:

Me: Why are you talking to yourself?

Student: Cuz I always do.

Me: But why?

See, I need to understand why I keep asking the same damn question to these kids. Hell, isn't that the definition of insanity?


Student: Cuz I always just do it.

Me: You know that is a sign of being crazy, right?

TB: Girl, IS you crazy? Maybe that will explain why you act so doggone stupid!


I tried not to laugh...(didn't work)

The Art Gallery Incident of 2010..

So each year my students are taken to what is a really fru-fru art gallery in town. I used to laugh and think about how they really just did not understand these trips. My militant friends are quick to say that it is just a way for the 'white man' to help the children get 'culture'. Actually, I love the gallery and tend to get lost looking at the paintings while my students talk about the pretty colors in the paintings or the flowers in the gardens.

You know I really can't say too much went wrong on the field trip today. We went over the paintings and some of the terms before we left, so they were prepared and did a good job of answering questions.

HOWEVER...

One of the questions was about texture. The guide asked "What is texture?"

One of my students said:

"That stuff you put in your hair to make it curly."

I was so embarassed. She said that in front of the white folk. You know Black folk are prone to being embarassed for the whole group of us when one of us has done something stupid. At this point I was embarassed for the group. So you know now the man is thinking what a great thing he is doing for our society helping the poor negro children learn that texture is not created by AfroSheen and UltraSheen Cosmetics.. I am sitting in the back of the gallery blushing next to the thousands year old pottery.

Then, since we had to have lunch stupid early today (10:00am...who does this), I asked the parents to send the kids with a snack. So one little girl comes with:

1. a can of vienna sausage
2. a FAMILY size bag of cheetos (the hot and spicy kind)
3. some hot sauce ( I swear!)
4. some crackers

What's wrong with this you ask? NO DRINK! How the hell are you gonna send your child to school with such a gastrointestinal mess as this and you send nothing to DRINK? So now she is sitting here thristy, mad and with the hot lips because with all that they did not send her with a Capri Sun or at least a quarterwater (I'll explain quarter water to you bougie folk at a later date).

Teaching....that's what I do! LOL

Everyday is a Good Day...

I was a part of a teacher fellow group that asked us to always wonder. Over the course of several months I was asked to come up with a wondering and as a teacher, sit and try to figure out my wondering and how I can make life classroom environment through wondering. Today as I sit in my class I have had some wonderings. I am going to share them with you right now.

I wonder...

Why this teacher keeps trying me?

Just how long I am going to let it go on...

Why I am so happy to find out that one of my students is moving to another school?

Why am I kinda sad at the same time?

Why do they serve this crap in the cafeteria and wonder why the kids throw it on each other?

Why I didn't take the day off and go to the beach?

Why do parents ask about homework on the day it is to be turned in?

Why to they think I care?

Why the parent with the gold teeth scares me?


That's all my wondering for now.

This Monday...

Sometimes this teaching thing is really easy. I guess at least for me. I love teaching first grade because I love the innocence of six and seven year olds. Not too much sass...just enough baby left in them to make it fun.

What I am learning I do not like about teaching is the politics and the fact that, although it is the hardest job on the planet, it carries the least amount of respect. Take for example the fact that I work at a school that has (for the betterment of the children) taken on having a longer school day. I know an hour does not seem like a lot. In the grand scheme of things it really isn't. But, if you are six or seven years old it can seem like an eternity. Let's be real: if you are an adult in a room of six or seven year olds it can seem like an eternity. Anyway, one of the perks ( I guess) of working at a school with extended hours is that we are paid an extra hour...which in its own way adds up and is something to look forward to at the end of two very long weeks. What has happened here is that we have worked so diligently and made sure what needed to be done was done. The classrooms look great. The kids are on point. I open my paycheck and...

Nothing.

Yep.

Nothing.

What is upsetting now is that no one, not the principal, the union, bookkeeper, payroll rep, NOBODY can tell me where my money is. Just that they will figure it out and no I can't take any time off in compensation.

So it's out there world...just what does a tired teacher do now?

Waiting for 3:45...

I teach first grade.

I know what you are thinking right now: How fun?!! I am sure it would be wonderful to be able to have little happy children all day singing songs and coloring pretty pictures.

Well, hell, I think that would be fun, too! That, however is not my life. My first graders are not what you see on TV. They really lead some interesting lives. Interesting is not the word to use...but I have not yet found something appropriate. See I work in what is called an 'urban' school (I will explain to you later why I am learning to HATE the word urban). I started teaching in Miami completely by accident. What happened was I waited until I was kinda old to get married. I packed up my raggedy duffel bag (you have to watch Living Single to get that one) and moved. At the time I was sure that I would be able to get a job doing what I had been doing for the last 10 years, banking. Little did I know that my high school freshman Spanish just was not gonna cut it in the M.I.A.

So you ask...teaching? One of Hubby's friend suggested it. She knew a principal and they knew some school board members and 'voila' the next thing you know I am the permanent sub at an elementary school in Carol City. I moved to my own classroom the next year and the rest is history!! Don't get me wrong...I love what I do. I believe deep in my heart that one my students will be the first black something. Not sure which one of what yet, but something nonetheless.

During my time in Miami, I took to writing a journal (blog) of the day to day antics at school and not only did it relieve some stress, but it did open a few folks eyes to what happens in school that are not as privileged....schools that are urban (God I hate that word!!). Hopefully, someone will run across this and not only get a laugh, but a view into a teachers world.

By the way...3:45 is the new time we get out of school. Yes, the still start around 8:30 and yes, that seems to be an awfully long time to have 6 years olds in school. But it is the way of the urban (is anyone else skin itching at the sound of that word yet?)school.

Enjoy...