(But hear my voice -or Samuel L. Jackson’s– when you come wandering into my classroom with time on your hands while I’m staring at the computer wondering who needs strangled next.)
His Samuel L. Jackson impersonation.
Tomorrow is the last day of school. It has been a glorious and terrible week of exhaustion, panic (failing students panicking, not me), and universal done-ness. Tomorrow my colleagues will have an adult meeting with adult beverages and ramble on about their own done-ness.
I am not done.
If I can get the publication kids done, that’s a positive step, but that rarely happens in time for attending the adult meeting.
I am never done.
Miles and I will just leave this here. Whoever wrote it didn’t get the quote quite right, but it is my favorite desktop graffiti. Found during yearbook camp– yes, that’s a thing- that I attend and teach at during the summer.
Just another sign of my not done-ness.
“Say ‘what’ again. I dare you.”
Once in a while a student will remind me that I’m not entirely evil, and that some people find sarcasm and snark endearing.
This was a belated Christmas gift because she didn’t get it done in time. A girl after my own project-based heart. I used to cross-stitch, so I know this was a labor of love, knots,and crossed eyes. The student used to knit during class; it kept her hands busy and mind calm. I might have secretly had a bag of yarn anonymously delivered to her one year. Can’t help but love a dedicated crafter.
“Purr more, hiss less” could be a pointed message on her part as I tend to be hissier than needed most days. It’s a good reminder for my classroom.
The governor of Ohio wants me to become an intern. I’d love to see him run my classroom as an intern. Trifflin’ ass.
President Cheeto Skin Butthole Mouth appears to be more incompetent on a daily basis,but no one seems to be stopping him. I wonder what would happen if I tweeted “You are a bad man” at him daily.
There hasn’t been any REAL snow all “winter.”
Ipads just give the asshole in my class more opportunities to be an asshole and continue to say, “What? I didn’t do it. He he he he” Some children want to be left behind.
My skin is crawling and I keep dropping everything. Can’t even nap successfully.
I suspect 3-5 glasses of wine plus sinus medication might even things out… or not.
Olivia Wigglebothum looks how I feel.
Birdie: “Why don’t you have this shit graded yet?”
Me, weeping into hands: “BECAUSE YOU WON’T MAKE DINNER OR RUN THE VACUUM!”
Brain:”Plus I spend the school day cleaning my gun just in case bears show up. I just thought I was teaching a Dystopian unit, not living it.”
*”All Summer in a Day” awesome little heart string puller from Ray Bradbury.
**With my 20 years of experience in public education, I can solidly say that any teacher carrying a firearm at school is a phenomenally bad plan.
*** Just Google Devos and bears. The new Sith Lord of Education will probably send the secret education police out for me at midnight.
Choosing one toy from the nip bin is not enough to get crazy high.
Getting high on catnip leads to rational behavior. It does not lead to exposed cat nipples.
I only feed three of the four cats. I force the black one to forage and dominate the other cats for food. This isn’t racist. He likes it. It is what it is. He has the same opportunity as the other cats.
Miles is actually a dog.
He sings in the litter box because he’s bragging about his poo size. (I don’t really know WHY he sings in the litter box so this could be a real fact not an alternative one.
Mum’s favorite dog.
Side note: I look forward to failing the first kid who suggests using “alternative facts” during the research unit. Wikipedia full speed ahead!
Day 1 back from almost two magical weeks of doing whatever (mostly) I damn well please. Little to no sleep. Because why would my body go to sleep, knowing that the alarm would go off at 5:45 am? Yeah!!!
I’m so tired, I’m pretty sure I hallucinated most of my work day.
This was an impulse buy at Target after school because ….caffeine.
Sadly, it did not smell like coffee.
And my hair is super crazy.
Multiple students today:”Hey, your hair looks nice. Did you do something different? Did you color it?”
Me multiple times today:”I ironed it because I can’t remember when I washed it last. Ironing it kills whatever is going on in there. The color is ‘old lady gray’ with ‘you need to dye your roots red.'”
Kids these days will cry at the drop of a hat. Weak.
MY KIDS took it upon themselves to make snacks today while I was at work.
I came home to an open cabinet, a gutted bag of relatively expensive cat food, and four guilty looking cats all sitting in the living room instead of meeting me in the kitchen as per usual.
Oddly enough, no one has asked for dinner, and I have not brought it up.
I tried to be a good and supportive teacher by attending a high school play. I can’t stomach sports or concerts, but I can generally enjoy a play.
By the time I left my desk at 4, and sat in 40 minutes worth of Friday traffic for my normally 15 minute drive, I had just enough time to get in the house, feed the cats, go to the bathroom, then get back in the car. I made it back for the 6pm show with 20 minutes to spare.
A torturous hour and a half later, there were some questionable choices in this production, I set out to find my own dinner and return home.
Home where chaos had ensued. Four cats on the verge of starvation had all opened their annotated copies of Lord of the Flies to wreak havoc.
In my rush to get back to school, I forgot to put the canned cat food back in the fridge. I imagine that the revolution began as soon as the door closed behind me.
There was no rationing of supplies just in case I was never coming back. They did try to open a food container, but no one has extra toes to get the job done.
They told me a band of raccoons were to blame, but I have my doubts.