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.