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.