My blog is my catharsis.
No wonder why I’m losing my mind.
I haven’t blogged for a very long time.
Blogging is my way to unwind.
I’ve survived a RIF.
But my spirit is broken.
It was cast adrift.
Like a piece of wood in the ocean.
People in charge
across the country.
Getting a free pass
for their incompetency.
Head honchos of DallasISD, GM, and AIG
Causing the little guy all of the misery.
While they themselves bask….
in their affluency.
Happy Thanksgiving to you people in control.
You have a lot to be thankful for.
You continually pass "Go" and collect your $200 fee.
Then you roll your doubles, and get out of jail free.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Happy Summer, Happy Professional Development!
I attended my first summer professional development session yesterday, and once again, I was less than impressed. What is it with this district? I hate being negative, so... let me first focus on the positive.
The actual session and presenter were actually quite exceptional (which is saying a lot). Our district has a new math textbook for next year, so the presenter was from the publishing company. He did a great job explaining the ins and outs of the new curriculum, and he did it such a professional manner. Kudos to that guy. He is a trooper.
I say that because he, along with the rest of his audience, had to endure excessive discomfort due to "climate-control" issues. I don't know what it is with this district and its inability to get air conditioners to actually condition the air. I've had this problem in my own school, a building less than 5 years old, as well. Its just unacceptable. At my session yesterday, I didn't actually hear the a/c turn on until around 9:30 (an hour and a half after the session began). And it never really cooled anything down. The common areas of the building were cool enough. I have no idea if the temperature problem was also going on in other rooms besides the one I was in, but I'm going to be extremely mad if I find out it was just happening in the room I was in. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to find out that this was the case and that the idea to change rooms never occurred to anyone in charge.
I have another session at a different campus later this week. It promises to be excruciatingly boring. Here's to hoping that, at least, the air conditioner will be working.
The actual session and presenter were actually quite exceptional (which is saying a lot). Our district has a new math textbook for next year, so the presenter was from the publishing company. He did a great job explaining the ins and outs of the new curriculum, and he did it such a professional manner. Kudos to that guy. He is a trooper.
I say that because he, along with the rest of his audience, had to endure excessive discomfort due to "climate-control" issues. I don't know what it is with this district and its inability to get air conditioners to actually condition the air. I've had this problem in my own school, a building less than 5 years old, as well. Its just unacceptable. At my session yesterday, I didn't actually hear the a/c turn on until around 9:30 (an hour and a half after the session began). And it never really cooled anything down. The common areas of the building were cool enough. I have no idea if the temperature problem was also going on in other rooms besides the one I was in, but I'm going to be extremely mad if I find out it was just happening in the room I was in. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to find out that this was the case and that the idea to change rooms never occurred to anyone in charge.
I have another session at a different campus later this week. It promises to be excruciatingly boring. Here's to hoping that, at least, the air conditioner will be working.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Grandpa Is In Da House!!
I really do have some very lovable kiddos this year. I've really grown attached to some, one in particular, to even a greater degree.
When I started the school year, I had a clean shaven face. When Thanksgiving came around, I had a week off, and decided to experiment with a goatee. When I showed up back to school after the week, you should've seen the look on everyone's faces. They were shocked! How could I go from clean-shaven to caveman in a week? They really have no concept of time. But, I knew that already. Believe me, I knew that. Their total cluelessness on the concept of "elapsed time", however, is for another blog at another time.
Anyway, the kids were mesmerized by the hair on my face. Some asked me if it was fake, even. It had to be fake! How could it just happen overnight like that? They just seemed to forget the fact that it had been 9 days since they had last seen me.
One student, whom I'll call B, kept playfully ribbing me about it. She kept telling me that she was going to sneak up with scissors and cut it off. Everytime she saw me after school on her way to the bus, she would wag her finger at me and say, "cut it off!" By the time Christmas rolled around she joked that she was going to give me a razor and shaving cream for Christmas. She had also noticed that the goatee had many many colorful strands of hair... brown, blonde, black, silver, gray. She really picked up on the silver and gray, which of course led her to the Santa Claus theory. She would ask me if I was Santa in disguise, spying on kids to see if they were naughty or nice.
Well, Christmas passed, and my identity eventually morphed into "grandpa". Now, she calls me grandpa all the time, and you know... I kind of like it. It's not Mr. Cater. It's grandpa! And she says it so nonchalantly now. Almost like I'm actually her grandpa! At the end of the day, on her way to buses, she says, "bye grandpa!" And, I say "bye," right back to her. Other kids just look at each other with a I-didn't-know-they-were-related look on their face.
Even though I'm young enough to be her dad, I'll gladly accept the title of grandpa. I think it really taps into my deep-seeded desire to be a parent, more than anything else has before. She greets me everyday with a hug that practically squeezes the life out of me, and at the same time, reassures me. I could be having a totally crappy day. However, when her class comes to me, that hug makes everything right again.
With the end of the year near at hand, several students in that class now call me grandpa as well. And, you know.... I kind of like it!
I hope I'm a good one.
When I started the school year, I had a clean shaven face. When Thanksgiving came around, I had a week off, and decided to experiment with a goatee. When I showed up back to school after the week, you should've seen the look on everyone's faces. They were shocked! How could I go from clean-shaven to caveman in a week? They really have no concept of time. But, I knew that already. Believe me, I knew that. Their total cluelessness on the concept of "elapsed time", however, is for another blog at another time.
Anyway, the kids were mesmerized by the hair on my face. Some asked me if it was fake, even. It had to be fake! How could it just happen overnight like that? They just seemed to forget the fact that it had been 9 days since they had last seen me.
One student, whom I'll call B, kept playfully ribbing me about it. She kept telling me that she was going to sneak up with scissors and cut it off. Everytime she saw me after school on her way to the bus, she would wag her finger at me and say, "cut it off!" By the time Christmas rolled around she joked that she was going to give me a razor and shaving cream for Christmas. She had also noticed that the goatee had many many colorful strands of hair... brown, blonde, black, silver, gray. She really picked up on the silver and gray, which of course led her to the Santa Claus theory. She would ask me if I was Santa in disguise, spying on kids to see if they were naughty or nice.
Well, Christmas passed, and my identity eventually morphed into "grandpa". Now, she calls me grandpa all the time, and you know... I kind of like it. It's not Mr. Cater. It's grandpa! And she says it so nonchalantly now. Almost like I'm actually her grandpa! At the end of the day, on her way to buses, she says, "bye grandpa!" And, I say "bye," right back to her. Other kids just look at each other with a I-didn't-know-they-were-related look on their face.
Even though I'm young enough to be her dad, I'll gladly accept the title of grandpa. I think it really taps into my deep-seeded desire to be a parent, more than anything else has before. She greets me everyday with a hug that practically squeezes the life out of me, and at the same time, reassures me. I could be having a totally crappy day. However, when her class comes to me, that hug makes everything right again.
With the end of the year near at hand, several students in that class now call me grandpa as well. And, you know.... I kind of like it!
I hope I'm a good one.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Armageddon Tomorrow
No, its not an asteroid. No, its not the rapture. No, its not World War III. Its that damn TAKS test. And, I'll be glad when its over.
I don't know what ticks me off more... my kids, 24 hours before the test, muttering nonsensical words such as "left angle" or the State of Texas and my school district for making me treat this like it was the freakin' Manhattan Project.
I can be completely honest when I say that if the winning envelopes to the Oscars were stored in my classroom on test day, the winners would continue to remain a secret. The accounting firms of Coopers and Lybrand, Arthur Anderson, Chip and Dale (or whoever it is) have nothing on me when it comes to security.
Furthermore:
I don't know what ticks me off more... my kids, 24 hours before the test, muttering nonsensical words such as "left angle" or the State of Texas and my school district for making me treat this like it was the freakin' Manhattan Project.
I can be completely honest when I say that if the winning envelopes to the Oscars were stored in my classroom on test day, the winners would continue to remain a secret. The accounting firms of Coopers and Lybrand, Arthur Anderson, Chip and Dale (or whoever it is) have nothing on me when it comes to security.
Furthermore:
- Oppenheimer could've done his research in my classroom.
- Put the Ark of the Covenant in my classroom and good ole Indiana Jones wouldn't have been able to touch it.
- Bill Belichick couldn't get his video cameras anywhere NEAR my room. (And the shades are drawn too).
Anything in my classroom that could be considered the least bit likely to give a student an edge in figuring out the answer to a test question, has been covered. Even things that have no potential whatsoever to give a student an answer have been covered (my bookshelf). I mean, after all, you never know when a kid looking at the bindings of the books on my bookshelf might be able to figure out that you multiply length and width to find the area of a rectangle. And of course, you never know when a kid actually might care THAT much to actually LOOK for an answer on the binding of a book on my bookshelf.
But, never fear. Security abounds even outside of my classroom. Trips to the restroom occur with escorts in order to make sure that kids don't talk about the math test when they leave the prison that is their classroom. You never know when a kid actually might care THAT much to actually ASK the 10-year old at the next urinal if he remembers how to determine if 2 fractions are equivalent.
And, of course... there is the cafeteria. When it comes time for lunch, classes must walk in lines to the cafeteria in pre-determined routes (as to not disturb other testing classes). I imagine presidential motorcade routes are formulated in much the same way. And to top it all off, the actual dining area is closed. Students must eat in the classroom under the strict supervision of their proctor. Because, who knows when a kid actually might care THAT much to actually ASK the 10-year old across the table what answer he got for question #12 when he would much rather chunk a tater-tot at his friend 2 tables down? Who am I kidding? By the time they got to the cafeteria, nobody would even remember what question #12 was about!
And what usually happens after lunch? Recess, right? No, not on test day. God forbid letting them break a little tension and take a little mental break, right? First of all, the playground is much too noisy for classrooms that are nearby. Other classes are still testing at that time. Nevermind that the playground is as wide as 2 blocks. I'm sure that moving to an isolated corner of the playground wouldn't be too disruptive to the closest classrooms. But, who knows when a kid actually might care THAT much to actually SAY, "Tag, you're it, and by the way...don't forget to line up your decimals whenever you're adding or subtracting decimal numbers" to her playmate.
It's all just a little too "Soup Nazi-ish" for me. Some will pass. Some will fail. I can assure you though, that it will not hinge on whether little Johnny got the answer to question #12 from his friend in the bathroom, cafeteria, or playground.
It hinges on whether the kid actually cares THAT much to really LEARN when given the opportunity.
And of course, that onus lies mostly with the parents.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I Know What Girls Like
My partner in teaching was telling me a story about one of our students the other day. Apparently, there was discussion going on in her class about what girls really like when it comes to boys. Well, she decided to set the record straight.
She asked them, "You really want to know what girls like?"
There was a hush in the room. Everybody wanted to know what she was going to say. And instead of using the opportunity to tell them that to find the perimeter of a shape, you add all the sides; and to find the area of a square or rectangle you multiply length by width, she actually told them (in her opinion) what girls like.
She told them that girls liked smart boys because smart boys are able to get good jobs. With their good jobs, the boys can put food on the table, buy a nice car, buy a house and just provide for the family.
But, one of our kids begged to differ.
He said, "Nuh uh, Mrs. Teacher. My uncle has a beat-up old mini-van and he has a hot-ass girlfriend!"
He didn't even realize that he had said the word, "ass." Neither did the class.
She should've just told them about perimeter and area.
She asked them, "You really want to know what girls like?"
There was a hush in the room. Everybody wanted to know what she was going to say. And instead of using the opportunity to tell them that to find the perimeter of a shape, you add all the sides; and to find the area of a square or rectangle you multiply length by width, she actually told them (in her opinion) what girls like.
She told them that girls liked smart boys because smart boys are able to get good jobs. With their good jobs, the boys can put food on the table, buy a nice car, buy a house and just provide for the family.
But, one of our kids begged to differ.
He said, "Nuh uh, Mrs. Teacher. My uncle has a beat-up old mini-van and he has a hot-ass girlfriend!"
He didn't even realize that he had said the word, "ass." Neither did the class.
She should've just told them about perimeter and area.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Excessive Celebration
If you're a sports fan, you've seen it before. Your football team is down 49 to 7. Two minutes left to go in the game. The other team has the ball. The next play is a running play and the runner is stuffed behind the line by one of your team's defensive players. Then the player that makes the tackle celebrates by doing a little dance, pumping a fist, or chest bumping one of his teammates.
Umm.. dude, its 49 to 7. If you had done that about 15 to 20 times throughout the game, maybe you would have a reason to celebrate. But, as it goes... you've only done it once, and once is not enough. You still lose. Dumb ass.
I bring this up because this idea, philosophy, idiocy (whatever you want to call it) has trickled down to the elementary school level. I'm not saying that there is a direct correlation between how pro athletes celebrate accomplishment and how our elementary school children celebrate accomplishment, but its amazing how similar it is.
Case in point: It is one day after a test. The tests have been graded and returned to the students. During class, I go over the test so that the students can get an idea of where they went wrong. Perhaps they can learn from their mistakes?
I reach question #9. The class pays attention to my expert instruction as I explain the strategies I used and the steps that I followed. When I arrive at the correct answer for the whole class to see, little Johnny lets out a whispered "YES!" accompanied by a subtle fist pump. It appears he got it right, and wants to let the whole class know that he is an expert in the particular area/objective that was addressed in question #9.
Unfortunately, little Johnny missed questions 1 through 8, and #10 as well for a score of 10%. But that doesn't phase Johnny. He is "in the moment". He is "king of the hill". He is master of the "improper fraction".
Dude, you made a 10. Chill out. If you had bothered to think through the other 9 problems, listen to your teacher a little more, or do your homework, you might actually have a reason to celebrate! But, as it goes.... you got one question right, and one is not enough. You still fail. Dumb ass.
Makes me want to pull my hair out. That's when you see the joint of my jaw pulsate through my cheek, as I wear down my teeth. That's when you see that vein pop out on my forehead.
I'm sure a lot has to do with the coddling that we do as teachers. This excessive praise for things that should be a natural occurrence is creating a generation of kids who are satisfied with being mediocre. Or even worse, sub-par.
Makes me want to throw up.
Please feel free to leave all of your positive comments below. All negative comments will be deleted.
Umm.. dude, its 49 to 7. If you had done that about 15 to 20 times throughout the game, maybe you would have a reason to celebrate. But, as it goes... you've only done it once, and once is not enough. You still lose. Dumb ass.
I bring this up because this idea, philosophy, idiocy (whatever you want to call it) has trickled down to the elementary school level. I'm not saying that there is a direct correlation between how pro athletes celebrate accomplishment and how our elementary school children celebrate accomplishment, but its amazing how similar it is.
Case in point: It is one day after a test. The tests have been graded and returned to the students. During class, I go over the test so that the students can get an idea of where they went wrong. Perhaps they can learn from their mistakes?
I reach question #9. The class pays attention to my expert instruction as I explain the strategies I used and the steps that I followed. When I arrive at the correct answer for the whole class to see, little Johnny lets out a whispered "YES!" accompanied by a subtle fist pump. It appears he got it right, and wants to let the whole class know that he is an expert in the particular area/objective that was addressed in question #9.
Unfortunately, little Johnny missed questions 1 through 8, and #10 as well for a score of 10%. But that doesn't phase Johnny. He is "in the moment". He is "king of the hill". He is master of the "improper fraction".
Dude, you made a 10. Chill out. If you had bothered to think through the other 9 problems, listen to your teacher a little more, or do your homework, you might actually have a reason to celebrate! But, as it goes.... you got one question right, and one is not enough. You still fail. Dumb ass.
Makes me want to pull my hair out. That's when you see the joint of my jaw pulsate through my cheek, as I wear down my teeth. That's when you see that vein pop out on my forehead.
I'm sure a lot has to do with the coddling that we do as teachers. This excessive praise for things that should be a natural occurrence is creating a generation of kids who are satisfied with being mediocre. Or even worse, sub-par.
Makes me want to throw up.
Please feel free to leave all of your positive comments below. All negative comments will be deleted.
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