Early Retirement?

Ugh... It's days like this that make me wonder:

"Do I have the ability to do this for another 17 to 20 years???"

The first days of school are always hectic, true. First weeks are always hectic. But, it really is days like today, that make me want to go back to college and earn a second degree. Heck, I'd consider an associate's degree in auto mechanics (they probably make more money and they get to have tattoos). Seriously though, we can have tattoos. But, what would I get? A giant apple on my back? A multiplication chart on my ass? A place value chart wrapped around my bicep like a tribal band? (Maybe I could make it into the millions period if the print was small enough).

Seriously though, auto mechanics have it easy! Plus, if they don't have the parts, they can order them from Detroit and get them within the week. I can't rightfully tell Johnny's mother that he's missing the portion of his brain that controls logical reasoning and that I need her to sign a consent form so that I can order the replacement part from Dr. Frankenstein's lab (if it could only be that easy). Furthermore, they can always refer to the owner's manual for tire pressures, oil grades, and how to use the jack. If kids could just come with a manual that had their friggin' address on it I'd be happy. Seriously.... If you're 10 years old, you should know your home address. And if you don't, your parent should take the responsibility to staple that information onto your forehead.

Auto mechanics also only have to worry about engine cycles. No monthly cycles. What is it with being notified of those on the first day of school? This is the first time in my 12 years that this has been an "issue" on the first day of school. Sure, it happens during the middle of the year all the time. But, on the first day of school? I guess it was bound to happen. Its the hormones in the chicken, I know.

I do enjoy my job, don't get me wrong. I'm sure I'll grow to like a majority of these kids, and I'm sure they'll grow to like me as well. But when I'm 49, will I feel the same way? Will I have the energy? Will I have the stamina? Will I show up to work with my shirt tail sticking out of my trouser zipper? (inside joke). Will I show up with suspenders attached to my underwear? (another inside joke). Will I show up to work one day with mismatched shoes? (oops, already did that). Will my ties look ridiculously out of style? (NEVER!!)

Well, I really don't know what will happen then. All I can worry about is what happens tomorrow (and the rest of the school year). So, put your tray tables up and put your seats in their full upright position. Fasten your seatbelts because its gonna be another bumpy ride!

NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!

A wise principal once said, "It takes five positives to undo the damage caused by one negative." (Or, at least someone told me that’s what the wise principal said). Regardless, the logic seems true enough. It is kind of like the whole idea of how frowning causes facial wrinkles while smiling prevents them from occurring.

Anyway, I digress. Yesterday, our principal called a staff meeting for the purpose of going over final nuts and bolts type issues before the opening of school on Monday. We also traditionally have an apple-cider toast in plastic champagne glasses to kick off the "New Year" on a positive note.

Well, the meeting was to start at 1:00 in the cafeteria. I, along with 8 to 10 other co-workers, showed up at 1:00 (according to the clock in the cafeteria). According to my watch, we still had another minute or two. According to my cell phone, it was 1:00. According to a second clock in the cafeteria, it was about 10 after. Anyway, she had already started the meeting (before 1:00). This must be true since she was already in the middle of discussing something. If we were there at 1:00 on the dot, and she was already speaking, she must've started anywhere between 12:57 and 12:59.

At the door, there were sign-in sheets for attendance and about 8 handouts to pick-up. While we were signing in, and picking up our handouts, she decided to "call us out" in front of the rest of the staff.

Nice negative reaction, very nice. Reminds me of how some staff members last year would make bets before staff meetings on how many negative remarks the principal would make for the meeting on that day. If anyone was betting yesterday, they would've had a field day trying to tally up the multiple tirades that were about to occur.

I can't quote it, but it was along the lines of we're just gonna have to stop and wait for your fellow co-workers, who can't seem to show up to a meeting on time. All the while, mind you, she's screaming. Well, not screaming, but definitely talking in a very abrasive, condescending, belittling, gruff tone. One of the staff members actually spoke up for herself and said, "It's one o'clock now," pointing to the cafeteria clock. Of course, this led our principal into her be-in-your-seats-early-so-the-meeting-can-start-promptly tirade.

Anyway, I felt like an 8-year old.

It just so happens that earlier in the week, we had an interesting presentation on brain-based research. It was basically about creating "optimal" conditions for "optimal learning". Things discussed were: having brighter, homier classrooms; having music play strategically during various times of day; involving hands-on or kinesthetic movements throughout a lesson; and creating a hospitable non-threatening environment (to name a few). She should've taken a page from that lesson and handled our scolding differently because from the moment I felt like I was being chastised as if I were an 8-year old, to the moment we toasted to a "Happy New Year", I had tuned-out. I wrote non-productive notes to my fellow "guilty" co-workers instead. I got a few laughs out of it as well. I guess I had caught the "negative-virus" as well. I'm probably being negative now as well, but it’s therapeutic, so I'm excused.

The toast was anything but jovial for me. I drank the apple-cider like I was abusing a bottle of Jack Daniels, and I threw the plastic champagne glass into the trash can like I would've been smashing an empty bottle of Jack in a parking lot or burning fireplace. I walked out of that meeting fuming inside. Outside, I was fine. I can laugh about things. I can smile. I can joke. But, on the inside rest assured, I was fuming. There were about 2 more times after that meeting that I just let out frustrated "Argggghs" in my isolated hallway. The people that heard me knew why I was "Arrrrgh-ing". Almost 24 hours have passed now and I'm still pissed. But, I'm not so much pissed now at the belittling as I am at about how low I've sunk since Tuesday.

I was pretty optimistic at the beginning of the week. But, each day, I've managed to sink a little bit more each time. Of course this all comes on the heels of news from a friend who has moved to a new school this year and is absolutely loving the positive energy there. I'm happy for my friend, but it just makes me realize what I'm missing out on.

Say Cheese!

The schools in the D/FW Metroplex have recently been invaded by a new drug called Cheese. It's a mixture of black tar heroin and Tylenol PM, crushed up and snorted. Its cheap and over 20 teen deaths have been attributed to it since its invasion into this area. Strangely enough (according to articles I've read) the majority of deaths have been in the hispanic demographic. For some reason, this drug is really only prevalent in this area of the country. DEA has been working with local law enforcement in hopes of preventing the spread of this "fad" to other regions of the country. The Dallas Independent School District also started an "information" campaign to let kids know the dangers and to let parents know of the signs.

Some schools have also taken the initiative and had speakers (mainly law enforcement types) speak to students at assemblies to inform them of the dangers. And, this brings me to the main reason why I'm blogging on this particular issue.

The drug is starting to get some national news coverage now, and about a week or so ago CNN did a story on the drug. They had a camera crew go into a middle school which happens to be the school where my elementary school feeds into. So some of the kids at this school are my former pupils.

Anyway, the video was of an "informational" assembly conducted by a police officer on the dangers of drug usage and to warn students of this Cheese. Anyway, after asking students several questions in the "How many of you know someone that takes or sells drugs?" category, the officer went on to tell the students that, "The United States is the biggest consumer of illegal drugs in the world." What happened next, is just totally mindboggingly stupid and sick.

Applause and cheering!

Kids are really Stupid sometimes (with a capital S).

Some of these were my former students. But, really, what can I do? They come to me for one year, and then they leave. They come to school for about 7 hours each day, then they spend 17 hours elsewhere. And, of course that doesn't count weekends.

Anyway, its a sad, sad thing and I hate that I know some of these bozos. They are on the fast track to nowhere. Anyway, just a little rant on the futility of educating some of these kids.

Stay Free!

My students have this habit of leaving trash on the floor or not picking up after themselves. Their desks are kind of small, so sometimes they unknowingly knock things (paper, pencils, erasers, shavings, scraps, etc.) to the floor. I seem to be nagging them constantly about "checking their area". Today, I should have kept my mouth shut.

As I was pacing the room, monitoring work (yes, my students are still doing work with a week and a half left in the year), I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a fragment of something, paper, if you will, lying on the floor. It was lying next to Sabrina Duncan's desk. So naturally, without hesitation, and straight out of habit, I asked her, "Sabrina, is that trash on the floor yours? and if so, could you please pick it up?"

There was some hesitation for a couple of seconds and then she replied that it wasn't hers. I was going to ask her to pick it up and throw it away anyway when I heard Bosley, a boy that sits behind her, say under his breath, "Is that what I think it is?"

Then, I heard another boy, Charlie, respond, "That's a pad!"

Then, like all boys of that age, he started to giggle. Not more than a second later, Bosley started to giggle as well. I looked at the item in question, and yes, it appeared to be a pad in an unopened yellow wrapper. It was on the floor next to Sabrina, and it was obviously hers. It didn't just appear there.

Of course, she denied it again. The boys giggled more. I sat down at my desk, nodding my head side to side, with my forehead resting in hand. I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. I was dumbfounded and felt like Ward Cleaver. The boys saw me nodding side to side and started laughing at my dumbfoundedness. The dumbfoundedness was existing on many levels: I was dumbfounded on what to do, I was dumbfounded on why she just didn't quickly pick it up, and I was equally as dumbfounded to find out that 4th grade boys knew what a sanitary napkin package looked like. While still nodding, I looked up for a split second and made eye contact with one of the boys. Then I did what all people of my age do: I started to grin.

I fought it tooth and nail and saved face pretty quickly. How did I do it? Well, I suddenly had the urge to look up something very important on my computer screen. I looked away from my class, peering into the computer screen and not reading a thing. Only one thought was on my mind: At all costs, you must suppress the urge to laugh.

Well, seconds seemed like hours and the pad was still on the floor. Now Sabrina, the owner of the thing, started to giggle as well and continued to deny her involvement with the pad (giggling the whole time). Sabrina has a good friend, Kelly Garrett, that sits on the total opposite side of the room. The two girls are good friends and they talk incessantly when near each other (hence the opposite sides of the room arrangement). They are such good friends, that they can communicate with looks as well. So when I saw them "communicating" with each other out of the corner of my eye, I knew without a doubt, unequivocally, that the pad belonged to Sabrina. Kelly started to laugh as well, and even got up out of her chair to take a look at the pad lying on the floor by Sabrina's desk.

Laughter started creeping back up to my face. My mouth was twitching. I kept raising my eyebrows so that maybe it looked like I had a headache and I could put my hand up to my forehead and cover my face in the process. Luckily, like in all the Rocky movies, I was saved by the bell. Whew... Time to go to specials classes.

Sporadic giggles were popping up here and there. Students were coming to take a look at the neatly-packaged pad as they lined up to go to art. You would have thought we were in the Smithsonian!

I usually line them up in the classroom, but I had to get them out of there (too much rubbernecking). I had them move into the hall and line up there. Giggles were still going on in the hall, and I was trying my best to ignore the whole thing. Again, the urge to laugh crept up through my body, and I had to think of an excuse to go back into the room. Ahh! My pen! I forgot my pen! I walked into the room, chuckled, took a deep breath, and then went back out into the hallway.

I escorted my kids to the art teacher, dropped them off, and let out a deep sigh and a big grin. By the time they got back to my room, they had forgotten about the whole thing. How typical. Just like math.

Bittersweet Symphony

The results to the dreaded test arrived yesterday.

And, like always, the results were bittersweet. So many successes, and a couple of disappointments.

This school year has been very trying, and it was the first time in 11 years that I honestly didn't know what to expect from these kids. These kids were majority "new" to our student body because of attendance zone changes at the begining of the year (to accommodate for the opening of a new school). They were not the kids that I was used to. They were not kids that had been educated by my peers at the lower grade levels. They were giant question marks in the back of my head. Throughout the year they just seemed to be so inconsistent to me. I was definitely preparing myself for a letdown.

But, in the grand scheme of things, there was no letdown at all. They grew right before my eyes unlike I've ever seen before. Well.... not all of them, but a good lot of them. Of course, there are those that are classified as highs and medium highs: The growth with them isn't too noticable because they are already at a high level to start off the year. But, some of the lows!! They were the bane of my existence! I was pulling hair, chewing on fingernails, sucking my thumb (well, not really). But most of them showed extreme growth and I am so proud of them... and myself (to tell you the truth). No, they didn't all pass, which is sad, because the state will see them as failures. But, I don't. I see them as successes: Mostly latchkey kids in an urban district with one parent; born into circumstances beyond their control; dealt hands that most of us would fold with. In the end, they took what I had to offer and applied it.

They were lucky to have me!

Does that sound conceited or what?


Then...there was student "N". She is a good reading and writing student, but a struggler in math. Like some of the others, I was worried about her the whole year. I worked with her. I tutored her. I made her feel safe. Yet, she still failed the math portion of the test. I wasn't disappointed in her, because I know she tried. I really thought she would be able to pull through, but she didn't. She came up to me today (the day after they found out their scores) and asked me, "Are you mad at me?"

And I told her, "No, of course not, what for?"

And she replied, "Because I didn't pass the math test."

That broke my heart! I reassured her and told her that I was not mad and that I knew she had tried her best. In the end, all she was concerned about was me and my feelings. She is such a sweetheart! I'd take a million like that and have them fail every single test.

.....but then, I'd be out of a job.

Roll Over Beethoven

The music teacher assigned my students to do some research on various composers the other day. I'm not sure how much of a project this actually was because I really haven't heard anything about it since Tuesday. But, what I heard Tuesday would definitely make any connoisseur of fine music cringe, and would surely make poor Ludwig turn over in his grave.

When I picked them up from their music class this Tuesday, they were in a rather cheery, singy (is that a word?), and jovial kind of mood. Some of the girls were singing a melody to some tune they had heard in their class that day. This is unusual because, sorry to say, most kids don't really like music class. I'm not sure if it's because they are embarrassed to sing...which I can understand, since I have a terrible voice. Or if they just think the overall concept is lame. I mean, why sing when you can crap? Did I say crap? I meant RAP.

Well anyway, the girls were singing and one of my boys, Dr. J. (the one from my 4/16 blog, "Apology Accepted") made an interesting comment. He said the song they were singing sounded like it was something by Beth Hoven.

I asked, "Beth who?"

He replied, "Hoven."

I once again asked for clarification, because I really wasn't comprehending what he was saying, "Who?"

His quizzical look (mentioned in my 4/16 blog) returned. His reply, with a little trepidation and a slight stutter (he was trying to get it right) was "Hu..hu..hoven."

Then, it finally hit me. Beethoven. Of course! I said, "Oh!!! You mean Beethoven?"

He replied, "Uh, yeah. Beethoven."

It was slightly funny, but slightly sad. He thought Beethoven was a girl named Beth! Maybe it was the wig. I mean, I knew who Beethoven was when I was in 4th grade (maybe even 1st grade). And this poor little guy, had no idea. Maybe its because I took piano lessons. I wonder if my peers knew who he was back then. Boy, maybe they didn't and I was just a nerd. Oh well.

Take Me Out To The Ballet

The other day, during recess, another teacher was playing baseball with the kids. It wasn’t an actual game or anything. Actually, it was more like just pitching and hitting…no base running. He would pitch the ball until someone hit it or struck out, and then it would be someone else’s turn.

After observing this little "interaction" between teacher and students, I came to the conclusion that baseball is a dying sport. Actually, I’ve had this opinion for a long time now. I haven’t been to a major league baseball game since probably around 1996, whatever year that was that the Texas Rangers made their first post-season appearance. I was already a little disillusioned from the strike that had occurred a couple of years before that, and my attendance to games had severely dipped. Sure, I followed it on TV somewhat (especially during the Mark McGuire/Sammy Sosa homerun derby year), but I never really got back into it. I suspect many other people (including dads, uncles, and grandfathers) didn’t get back into it as well, thus alienating it even further from a younger generation.

Anyway, back to my observations....

The kids were lined up to take a swing, and the first thing I noticed was that the first person in line to bat was not more than 2 or 3 feet away from the actual current batter. Last I heard, a baseball bat was longer than 2 feet. I would just cringe each time a pitch was made and the bat would swing. Surely, someone was going to get hit. The teacher pitching had to constantly keep telling the kids in line to back up. They absolutely had no concept of "batter's box". They might as well have been umpiring the pitches. Anyway, we can just chalk that up to over-anxiousness. Everybody is always dying to get their chance, and these kids were definitely hungry for a chance to hit the ball.

The most tell-tale sign though (that baseball is on its way out) was the at-bats. You could tell that some of these kids have never held a baseball bat in their lives. I’m talking N-E-V-E-R. Some kids were holding the bat with their left and right fingers intertwined. Oh my gosh! Back in my day, that would’ve branded you as a sissy! Only girls could get away with holding the bat like that (apologies to the ladies). And, by no means am I saying that these kids are sissies. Some are, but most of them aren’t. Yet, there they were, holding the bat in the most passively demure of ways.

The next noticable tell tale sign was the swinging pirouettes that I witnessed. Sorry (again) female readers, I don’t want to sound sexist because I’m not. But the swinging pirouette is so-o-o-o-o-o girly! For those of you who don't know, the swinging pirouette is when the batter takes a futile swing at the passing ball. Of course, the batter whiffs and then commences to spin on his foot (Newton's little known 4th law comes into play here--for every whiffed baseball, there is an equal and synonymous 1,080 degree spin). These kids would’ve had more success in a ballet class, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. They actually, in fact, probably have a better chance of becoming a dancer later on in life than becoming a world-famous soccer, football, or basketball star.

The last tell tale sign has got to be the influx of butterfly collectors into the baseball arena. Some people might consider butterfly collecting a demanding physical exercise that requires exceptional skill with a net, but don’t ever get that confused with baseball. Sure the baseball doesn’t flutter around directionless like a butterfly, but the butterfly doesn’t fly staight at you at speeds approaching 100 miles per hour (40 or 50 miles per hour in the case of these kids). Anyway, you’d think these kids were hunting butterflies. Swinging the bat with one hand while leaping gracefully into the air is not going to get you a base hit. Amazing. You might have some luck netting a buttefly in this manner, but you will not net a chance on base, that’s for sure.

So, to sum up.....

These kids suck! These kids are much better shooting a ball through a hoop, kicking a ball into a goal, and leaping into the air to catch a football while defenders are eagerly converging on them to make a hit. They are much better at these because they have the experience and the practice. They are in leagues for these sports, its obvious. But baseball? The kids have no concept. Don’t even get me started with the concept of bases. I have a strange suspicion that some of them wouldn’t know what to do or where to go if they actually had the sheer luck to connect on a pitch.

As for me......

I’m actually scheduled to see Rangers vs. Bosox next month with my dad, uncle, and brother. It will be my first MLB game in over 10 years. But, I’m not even really going for the game as much as I am going for the nostalgia of going to a game with my dad, brother, and uncle. Of course, beer and jumbo dogs come in a very close second. Actual interest in the players and the game: a distant third.