There is only one person who will understand the title of this blog (one person and her alter-ego, Buffy), but being that she is an interweb hobo or something and doesn't blog anymore, I doubt she will see it.
So today, I was sitting in the teacher's lounge, getting ready to heat up my Healthy Choice Rotini, when I heard an enormous crash coming from the classroom next door. Sort of like a massive file cabinet imploding or, perhaps, a fight between Iron Man and the Hulk (what? The Avengers is coming out this weekend. Some people care about that. Not me, but some people). The other teacher and I take a beat, look at each other, then run for the classroom.
A side note: I am 5'2". Maybe. With my little boots on. H, the teacher with me, is very tall but quite thin. Blonde and from the Midwest. The other cheerleading coach. What I'm saying is, neither of us is muscle-bound. Neither of us is a formidable opponent.
In the classroom, we find a slightly alarmed substitute, and a girl in a rage, throwing desks at other students. Yup, actually picking them up and heaving them, mostly in the general direction of a very large boy, who is clearly taunting her, but it is a small classroom, and desks are rather unwieldy, so they're sort of flying everywhere. Apparently, I learn between screams, the boy spit on her. I don't know what provoked the spitting.
H grabs the desk-thrower, so I move towards the boy, putting myself between the two combatants and projecting (NOT yelling) that he needs to SIT DOWN NOW! SIT DOWN. RIGHT NOW. NOW. SIT. Sometimes, I am not the cleverest wordsmith when breaking up a fight.
This plan of attack is, predictably, ineffective.
As I am projecting (not yelling) and desks are flying by me, and I am standing between a rabid wild child and her potential prey (who is, still, yelling taunts at her and things like "say that to my face!" which I'm pretty sure she was doing, with both words and desks), I keep thinking, "This is it. This is the day I'm going to get hit." Possibly by a fist, possibly by a desk. I can't help but think that day is inevitable, based on my tendency to fling myself in the middle of warring teenagers.
Teachers should not break up fights for many reasons. 1-We are not taught the safe way to separate children. I know from some of my friends who are that there is a safe way to hold a child, so he/she cannot injure himself or others. I don't know how to do this. I break up a fight, and I hurt my back. Luckily, I have never hurt a child because if I do, 2- I could get sued. This is why I'm a member of the union, but still. It isn't something I want to risk. And 3- If the child hits one of us, even accidentally, that is it for him/her. Fighting another student generally gets a child a 10 day suspension (the max) but not an expulsion. Hitting a teacher or administrator is automatic expulsion.
And then, of course, 4- It is not my job, and I don't get paid enough!
Yet, if I see a fight, I can't help it. I jump right in, my little 5'2" self, and starting projecting (not yelling) my head off and puffing myself up like some kind of bearded dragon, hoping that children, like bears, might be scared off if I make enough noise and wave my arms (generally, they are not).
Long story short: today is not the day I was hit. A short eternity (probably about 1-1/2 to 2 minutes) after our intervention, the cops and the administrators came running in and, once there were more adults in the room than children, the fight was finally stopped. The perpetrators were hauled off. A small girl, who had been sitting at her desk calmly listening to her headphones for the entire encounter, looked up at me, sighed, and said, "I got spit on, too. May I go to the bathroom to wash it off?"
In unrelated news, I am considering taking a day off this week.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Then again, maybe I won't...
Remember a long, long time ago (yesterday), when I said I "no longer feel threatened" by all the babies and that I have surrendered to it?
Lies.
Bold-faced lies, my friends.
I thought that's how I felt, but that is before I went to my cousin's daughter's first birthday party. Where I was the only single person and one of the only people not toting a baby. Most of those people were guys I went to high school with, the popular, fun-loving, heavy-drinking crew that you never thought would settle down with one girl, let alone settle all the way into fatherhood. Those guys and their wives, most of them with various levels of baby weight and beautiful, smiling cherubs balanced on their hips.
And now I feel a little bit bad about my life choices...like I am not part of the secret, special club that I really do want to be a member of some day. To make matters worse, on my way home, I called one of my perpetually single friends, The Rockstar, who, granted, I have not hung out with in a few months, and she is celebrating her boyfriend's birthday tonight. Boyfriend. So now I am obviously the only single person in the world. Which, let's face it, will make marriage and subsequent procreation difficult.
Lies.
Bold-faced lies, my friends.
I thought that's how I felt, but that is before I went to my cousin's daughter's first birthday party. Where I was the only single person and one of the only people not toting a baby. Most of those people were guys I went to high school with, the popular, fun-loving, heavy-drinking crew that you never thought would settle down with one girl, let alone settle all the way into fatherhood. Those guys and their wives, most of them with various levels of baby weight and beautiful, smiling cherubs balanced on their hips.
And now I feel a little bit bad about my life choices...like I am not part of the secret, special club that I really do want to be a member of some day. To make matters worse, on my way home, I called one of my perpetually single friends, The Rockstar, who, granted, I have not hung out with in a few months, and she is celebrating her boyfriend's birthday tonight. Boyfriend. So now I am obviously the only single person in the world. Which, let's face it, will make marriage and subsequent procreation difficult.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Babies! Now, with more BABY.
My cousin and his wife are now the parents of twins. Twins. That's right. Not one, but two babies.
Double the cute. Half the sleep.
I went to visit them for the first time in their brief two week existence last night. My cousin looks thrilled but exhausted. His wife looks exhausted but somehow...calmer? Like having two babies has taken some kind of edge off her, removed a polish so now she looks softer and more real. I don't know if that makes any sense. And this is, for the record, not saying anything derogatory about my cousin's wife pre or post babies. I like my cousin's wife. I'm just trying to describe her ineffable aura of motherhood: the way lack of sleep, lack of makeup and absolute bliss rest on a person's face. She has more freckles than I realized.
With the proper arm prop, I think I could hold a newborn forever. I am a baby person. I want to hold them, stroke their little feet, curl their tiny fists around my finger. When they're older, I want to play peek-a-boo and swing them upside down as they chortle with delight. And I no longer feel threatened (I think) by the wave of infants crashing over me from facebook and real life. Maybe a little threatened, or I would have chosen a different image than a crashing wave. Something friendler. But the wave is there. It is inevitable. I surrender to it. Go forth and multiply friends, relatives, former classmates.
Me? Some day.
In other news, it appears my roommate is dating the son of a foreign arms dealer, who is taking her to a house party/rave this weekend. I am fairly certain her life should be a reality TV show.
Double the cute. Half the sleep.
I went to visit them for the first time in their brief two week existence last night. My cousin looks thrilled but exhausted. His wife looks exhausted but somehow...calmer? Like having two babies has taken some kind of edge off her, removed a polish so now she looks softer and more real. I don't know if that makes any sense. And this is, for the record, not saying anything derogatory about my cousin's wife pre or post babies. I like my cousin's wife. I'm just trying to describe her ineffable aura of motherhood: the way lack of sleep, lack of makeup and absolute bliss rest on a person's face. She has more freckles than I realized.
With the proper arm prop, I think I could hold a newborn forever. I am a baby person. I want to hold them, stroke their little feet, curl their tiny fists around my finger. When they're older, I want to play peek-a-boo and swing them upside down as they chortle with delight. And I no longer feel threatened (I think) by the wave of infants crashing over me from facebook and real life. Maybe a little threatened, or I would have chosen a different image than a crashing wave. Something friendler. But the wave is there. It is inevitable. I surrender to it. Go forth and multiply friends, relatives, former classmates.
Me? Some day.
In other news, it appears my roommate is dating the son of a foreign arms dealer, who is taking her to a house party/rave this weekend. I am fairly certain her life should be a reality TV show.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Angry Face Teacher
Being a teacher truly requires being an island of calm in an ocean of chaos and general ineptitude. My calm facade is practiced and perfect. Do I raise my voice? Sure. But only deliberately. My students, however, do not know this.
There are a few loud voices that I use. There is the simple projection- no emotion behind it, I just need to be heard over the cacaphony of adolescent voices. Then there is the loud but annoyed/disappointed voice. FOUR OUT OF TWENTY-SEVEN OF YOU TURNED IN YOUR HOMEWORK. THIS IS AN ISSUE AND A POOR LIFE CHOICE (I often tell my students that they are making poor life choices. It is generally true). Then there is the LOUD AND FURIOUS VOICE. Today, for the first time this year, I believe, I brought out my loud and furious voice for my 4th period class.
I came into the room from hall duty, hoping to see a class of quiet, orderly students, seated and working on a drill (one can always hope) and instead saw four of my male students beating on each other in the back of the classroom. Not maliciously, just the way that 15 year old boys horse around. But it was disruptive and not allowed. So, natch, loud and furious voice.
SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW! THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE. GET IN YOUR SEATS RIGHT NOW. NOW. (The word now is quite fun to say in a furious voice).
A scattering of students. And then stunned, jaw-dropping silence. Not a peep out of them for a good twenty minutes. The loud and furious voice is quite the powerful weapon.
Was I that angry? Nope. Did they really deserve my wrath and thunder? Negative. Had they been annoying the crap out of me the past few days and just needed the fear of god put into them? Yes indeed.
In other news, my week started with finding a kitchen knife the size of my forearm in the hallway. Oh, public schools.
There are a few loud voices that I use. There is the simple projection- no emotion behind it, I just need to be heard over the cacaphony of adolescent voices. Then there is the loud but annoyed/disappointed voice. FOUR OUT OF TWENTY-SEVEN OF YOU TURNED IN YOUR HOMEWORK. THIS IS AN ISSUE AND A POOR LIFE CHOICE (I often tell my students that they are making poor life choices. It is generally true). Then there is the LOUD AND FURIOUS VOICE. Today, for the first time this year, I believe, I brought out my loud and furious voice for my 4th period class.
I came into the room from hall duty, hoping to see a class of quiet, orderly students, seated and working on a drill (one can always hope) and instead saw four of my male students beating on each other in the back of the classroom. Not maliciously, just the way that 15 year old boys horse around. But it was disruptive and not allowed. So, natch, loud and furious voice.
SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW! THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE. GET IN YOUR SEATS RIGHT NOW. NOW. (The word now is quite fun to say in a furious voice).
A scattering of students. And then stunned, jaw-dropping silence. Not a peep out of them for a good twenty minutes. The loud and furious voice is quite the powerful weapon.
Was I that angry? Nope. Did they really deserve my wrath and thunder? Negative. Had they been annoying the crap out of me the past few days and just needed the fear of god put into them? Yes indeed.
In other news, my week started with finding a kitchen knife the size of my forearm in the hallway. Oh, public schools.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Books 41-45
41- My New American Life
By: Francine Prose
Genre: Literary Fiction
Three words: Albanian Nanny's Adventures
42- Bet Me
By: Jennifer Crusie
Genre: Chick Lit, re-read
Three words: Favorite Romance Ever
43- Super Sad True Love Story
By: Gary Shteyngant
Genre: Fiction, Dsytopic, Book Club
Three words: Social Media Dystopia
44- Faking It
By: Jennifer Crusie
Genre: Chick Lit, re-read
Three words: Forger Loves Conman
45- Wintergirls
By: Laurie Halse Anderson
Genre: YA Fiction
Three words: Poetic Anorexic's Journal
By: Francine Prose
Genre: Literary Fiction
Three words: Albanian Nanny's Adventures
42- Bet Me
By: Jennifer Crusie
Genre: Chick Lit, re-read
Three words: Favorite Romance Ever
43- Super Sad True Love Story
By: Gary Shteyngant
Genre: Fiction, Dsytopic, Book Club
Three words: Social Media Dystopia
44- Faking It
By: Jennifer Crusie
Genre: Chick Lit, re-read
Three words: Forger Loves Conman
45- Wintergirls
By: Laurie Halse Anderson
Genre: YA Fiction
Three words: Poetic Anorexic's Journal
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Books 36-40: 2011
36- Hot Money by Dick Francis (reread)
37- The Uncoupling by Meg Wolitzer
38- The Twin's Daughter by Lauren Baratz-Logsted
39- Matched by Allie Condie
40- Dangerous to Know: A Novel of Suspense by Tasha Alexander
37- The Uncoupling by Meg Wolitzer
38- The Twin's Daughter by Lauren Baratz-Logsted
39- Matched by Allie Condie
40- Dangerous to Know: A Novel of Suspense by Tasha Alexander
Books 31-35: 2011
31- All in the Timing: 14 Plays by David Ives
32- Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris
33- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard
34- Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
35- Rumors by Neil Simon
32- Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris
33- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard
34- Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
35- Rumors by Neil Simon
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