I Admit It, I'm Slighlty Dramatic

I am not a good sick person. I whine. I tell the hubs that I am dying. I tell my friends that they can have my extensive shoe and purse collection if I die. Then I go home, lay down, usually feel better, and then take back the verbal contract/will of my shoes.

I do have to brag though for a second...even in all of my whining and complaining of dying, I usually take care of myself. I don't want people to feel like they have to take care of me. I don't want people pitying me. Most importantly, I don't like taking off work and having to come up with sub plans.

Now that being said, this time was different. This time I felt like I was hit by a bus carrying the Olympic sumo wrestling team. This time I let the hubs take care of me. I let him get up at 3am to get me some Nyquil and 3 Advil. This time I took off work and might even take another day.

It all started Thursday with a tickle. I knew "it" was there using my tonsils as a scratching post, but I just ignored "it." But somewhere between 7am and 1230pm something happened. The tickle turned into a full on incapabillity to swallow. I sat there looking at my class of students wondering how I was going to make it through another hour and a half. I took it minute by minute and luckily most of the bell was used for revising their essays. I went home, took some Advil, and a nap. When I woke up, I felt better. I even ate some soup. I was praising the healing powers of Advil. Then around 9, "it" came back for another round. Body aches. Chills followed by sweating. Throat so swollen I couldn't swallow my own spit. It was a long restless night, but I knew I had to go to work Friday.

Friday was worse than Thursday. I showered a really long shower and carried my pathetic butt to school. I was so mad at myself for not getting a sub. But honestly, I don't think I had ever felt like this. I was weak. I was run down. The sumo wrestlers were now off that metaphorical bus and kicking my ass. I got to school and talked to the Awsome Spruill and he got me a sub. I was free. Free to go home and sleep. And that is what I have been doing. Since Friday I have slept and watched TV...and oh yeah, I occasionally play someone in my words with friends. I didn't have the energy to do anything else. I, a self proclaimed addict of Facebook, could only muster up 5 minutes at a time to do anything and at times even Facebook was exhausting.

Meanwhile the hubs took care of the bug and everything else I am so used to doing. He painted our shutters, cleaned the kitchen, made the meals, and brought me beverages and medicine. He would even get up and turn the fan off when I was freezing and then back on when I was going through my "I'm so hot phase." He earned himself some gold start these past few days. Maybe I will let him change them in when I am better.

I know no one likes to be sick, but I also know many out there who get a slight symptom and put themselves on bed rest. I can't understand that. I would rather be doing anything than just laying around...but maybe that is why I got sick in the first place.

Today is the first day I actually have enough energy to peruse Facebook and type. I might even eat today. (That soup was the last thing I ate). Until then, I will go live the high life and gargle another glass of salt water.

All I have to say...I better have lost at least a pound or so. :)

And P.S. I do not reccomend using Google images when searching for a picture of tonsils. There are some (pardon my language) F'ed up tonsils out there!

Go ahead and cut off my fingers...

So is this what I have to look forward to? Will I now be fired for expressing my views? For practicing my 1st Ammendment Right?

As a high school teacher, I find this absolutley insane! I love how we hold teachers to such a higher degree than we even hold ourselves. Are we not allowed to complain about our observations? Are our first ammendment rights null and void because we are paid with tax dollars? The truth of the matter is, students as a whole have stopped thinking for themselves. They have become lazy. And the students aren't the only ones disengaged...the parents are too! I'd love to give a benchmark test that measures a parent's parenting skills.

Peruse the internet and see how many blogs there are that feature people complaining about their job. It doesn't mean they hate their job, it means they had a bad day or a person who upset them. Does it mean that they should be fired? Better yet, next time I hear a parent openly complain about their child I will call up GMA and make sure that the parent is ridiculed by a mass of people who have no idea what they are talking about!

Who am I to Judge?

I have an ugly confession...

I

Can

Be

Judgy.

I know, I know, we all are, but it isn't until very recently, that I realized how judgy I can be.

But before I start this blog, I must apologize in advance because I am sure that I am going to offend someone and for that I am sorry in advance.

As many of you know (and if you don't you must not have read my other posts), I am a teacher of the up and coming generation. While sometimes I wish that I taught the 7 year olds, I teach the 14-20 year olds...which means I have a plethera things to judge.

By the way, stay with me, I promise this post is not really about my job.

Anyways, as I was saying, I teach teenagers and with this means I sometimes teach teenager who are themselves having babies. It is a sad situation and I never really know what to say when I get the news. I never say Congratulations because I refuse to condone it, but at the same time I never put them down. The deed is done and now they just need to know that I believe in them and that I know if they work really hard they can still complete their education.

This is where the judgement comes in: Secretly I am angry with them. I know they will not be the true parent to that child. In very few cases do I hear about that teenager and her partner in crime being full time parents AND full time students. Yet, here I am expected to be full time mommy and teacher. Many of these kids (and no, not all) will never know what it is truly like to have to truly sacrifice. Often, their mom will take over many of the responsibilities and those babies often grow up only to repeat the cycle. This infuriates me. Until today...

As I sit here and mull over being a "single parent" for the next few weeks, I realize how blessed I am to have my mommy and daddy to step in, to babysit, to make a meal once in a while, to...whatever. I have never had to do what I do alone...by myself... The one time I did have to, kinda, was when I lived in Florida for a year. I was by myself with no help from mommy and daddy, but at the same time, I didn't work and I think I attended 10 social events without my daughter. (2 of them were with my hubby when my MOM came in town.)

HELL not only does my mom help with the Bug, but on Wednesday she is picking up my whitening trays at the dentist, and today she paid for me to get my brows threaded (which hurt like I don't know what!) So maybe the hubs and I are the Bug's support system, but my parents are ours. And that is okay.

So mom and dad...you may never read this, but I want to send out a virtual hug, kiss, and thank you. You can never realize how much better parents you let us be by being there for us.

And as for the babies out there having babies: know that it is okay to ask for help, but be truly grateful for it. Rise to the occasion of being the parent and know that the commitment is life long...on both ends.

One day...

So I gave my writing class an assignment.

They had to roll 7 dice and whatever pictures came up they had to include in their next short story. The words: beetle, sun, magic, castle tower, tee-pee, The letter L, and cane.

I decided that this would be fun and that I wanted to participate too. Normally I don't share my writing with the kids. They know I have a blog, but I would never tell them where they could find it. I told one class that I used blogspot.com and I got "That is where the old people blog."

Like most, my writing is personal, but really, it goes deeper than that. I don't really want to be judged, ESPECIALLY by my students. I mean, would you? Would you want to put your words and thoughts out to people who still judge their peers by what brand of shoe they are wearing?

Regardless, I decided to participate with my wrting class and write a short story. We share tomorrow and you know what? As much as I am scared shitless, I am rejuvenated. I LOVED making myself write something that required characters, conflicts, and creativity. I don't even care if it sucks (for lack of a better word). Over the last 6 years, I have become so involved in teaching other people's words that I forgot my own.

This blog is the closest I have gotten to writing and it took me almost a year to write 8 posts. Re-DUNK-ULOUS!

I know I spent a whole post on bashing those of you with your new year's resolutions, but I think I might have to recant...

I resolve to write more. I resolve to sharing my creativity with the world...or my 6 followers. I resolve to making my childhood dream come true: publishing...something other than just this blog.

(And if I may toot my own horn, my story was pretty darn good for my first time back on the horse. Toot! Toot!...or Neigh!!!...or whatever other cliche I can use here)

Graduation Day

In January 2006 I got hired as a teacher. I worked hard. I cried a lot. I smoked more cigarettes in a day than ever before (keep in mind I NEVER smoked during school hours). I questioned myself as a teacher and even as a person...daily.

Minus the 9 months that I was pregnant (I did not smoke at all, rather I cried more), this pattern continued for the next two years.

It was a rough 2 1/2 years.

There were accolades of sorts, but usually the accolades came far and few and most of the time the kids only showed appreciation the next school year when they now hated their newest set of teachers and wished they were in your class again.

God seemed to answer my prayers that year when he sent me and the hubby to Florida and allowed me to take a break from the career that I had always wanted.

Last year, after the hiatus, I returned to the work force at a new school in a grade level I was comfortable in. I would be lying to say that it was soooooo much better. But it was better. I had a great team that allowed me to lean on them when I was clueless and when I was faltering. I had a 6th bell that even in the worst of times, they were my joys.

But I still had days when I would ask my husband what I was doing wrong. I needed a thank you. I needed an 'atta boy every once in a while. Both my hubby and colleagues said, "When you teach high school, you won't usually get those until graduation night...sometimes even later."

So this summer I pondered what other skills I had. What other job could I do if teaching killed my soul before it killed my body? I had always wanted to be a teacher. I was 4 when I told my mom I wanted a chalkboard. I was 7 when I made my first worksheet.

I was a great waitress at one time...but my body wouldn't let me go there again.

I have a KILLER answering phones voice (or so I have been told a tim or two)...but that would never keep me busy enough to justify me being away from the Bug 8 hours a day. (Plus is there a job you can JUST answer phones? Usually they require typing and well 28 wpm and 1 handed typing is not going to get me anywhere.)

So with my head hung low I returned to a new year. I psyched myself into believing I was excited, but in actuallity I was scared. I had a new team. A new room (this was actually a good thing). A new grade level. And even a new floor.

But something has happened...

They like me. They really like me!

My team is great. The students are FAR from wonderful and they are still no bell 6, but there are kids who I have touched and they have said "Thank You"...already. And these aren't your nerdy little freshmen.

DF told me my class was bullshit 4-5 times the first day he showed. He walked out at some point. He is a 18 year old freshman, and he thought my public speaking class was a freshman class and he was having no part in that. I was so angry that first day, but when he showed up 2 classes later, I laid low with him. And when he was much better. I told him. A couple classes later he showed up on time. Today in class he joked with me and stated that I was one of the few classes he showed to. (Not exactly "Thank you" but I'll take it. )

BB showed up day 1 in my honors class. I prejudged her. I could tell she was going to be a hardass who would probably make the class difficult. I had seen her in the halls earlier being Miss Toughgirl and disruptive. Yet, I noticed that once inside the 4 walls of the class she was a different person. Vulnerable. Calm. She did well on her first quiz. I let her know that I had figured out her secret: She might be hard and tough in the halls and with her friends, but she was smater than what her friends knew. I told her secret was safe with me...until she got in trouble. Since then, she emails me every other day with a "hello to her favorite teacher" and stops by 2-3 times a day. (I'll count that as a thank you)

Final JS. He is again in my Honors class, but I can tell that he will struggle. He has the wandering eye that sometimes wanders onto other people's work, but more often just into "I don't know what the heck I am doing" outer space. I pulled him in the hall and told him that he had to let me know if he was struggling. He had to talk to me. He ended the conversation with a thank you and as I turned around to go back in--he hugged me. I was caught off guard.

Today was my graduation day. In one day, I felt all 550 kids that I have taught hug me. Even Bell 8 from last year. Even my 15 year old 6th grader who on my second day ever made me cry. Even the girl who called me "a fat bitch" in the hall 4 years ago.

This is me hugging them back.

Sidenote: I have now been smoke free for almost 2 1/2 years.

Fresh Beats and Inappropriate Introductions

Today was the first day of school in the Hampton Roads area.

Any good teacher is nervous, anxious, and excited all at once before and on the first day. If they are not one or all of these emotions they are either lying or in my humble opinion, a teacher for the wrong reasons.

The night before the first day I usually do two things: IRON EVERYTHING and wrestle ALL night in bed. In the past I have even ironed my underwear and socks. This year, I got smart. I bought a really cute suit that required no ironing and I bought new underwear. No socks this time. Ironically enough I didn't toss and turn either. Maybe this has to do with the lack of ironing I had to do, maybe it has to do with the exhaustion of having my own little student: a 3 year old who asks why to EVERYTHING!

Speaking of 3 year olds...has anyone caught the show on Nick Jr called The Fresh Beat Band? The premise is not new. 4 characters that have a problem that solves itself within 23 minutes. All the while, Twist, Shout, and two really bad lip-synching girls sing and dance in perfect unison. It is annoying, yet the hubs and I have caught ourselves singing the songs on more than one occasion. The sad part is, the show might not even be on the TV or even that day.

But I digress...

Today was a good day. Make that a great day. A lot of my students from last year (now juniors) came and visited. That was the best feeling. When I taught in Hell, also known as my last school, I was in the mobiles or portables or trailers (depending where you're from). The students were not allowed to go outside unless they had a class outside. For the most part I only saw past students when I was catching them with a cigarette or skipping PE.

Again, I digress...

Block 1- REALLY, REALLY, REALLY quiet! I couldn't shake the words from them. Maybe because it was 7 in the morning, but they would not talk, participate, volunteer, NOTHING. During their 1 minute introductions, I had to beat their info out of them. I did meet my 18 year old Fresman. Fabulous. (In his defense he seems to be a nice kid, even if he claims to be from a planet thousands of mile away from here).

Block 2- This group was actually entertaining. My favorite quote from the 1 minute introductions came from a young, black male: "My favorite color is black." Looks to me quickly and raises up his hand, "Ms. S, I swear I'm not a racist." I think he thought I was going to turn him in for a crime.

Block 3- From the getgo I had a feeling about this group. The 2 phone calls out to parents later in the day proved me right. After returning from lunch, 1 girl was 25 minutes late. Now I know this is not ridiculous, but REALLY? REALLY? you are going to attempt to skip the first day? This girl's 1 minute introduction was made up of her telling me how much she hated everything. PE, running, lunch (ironic huh?), English, Writiing...the list went on and on.

But it gets better...

Another young lady stands up to give her 1 minute introduction. She had also returned from lunch late and then tried to fall asleep earlier. Anyways, I could barely make through the mumbling, but I did catch that so and so is her real (insert n word here) for real yo. Nice. But again it gets better. After redirection, she proceeds to tell me that her summer consisted of her smoking and drinking with her (n word again).

For real?

As I look into my 3 year old's eyes I have to wonder when The Fresh Beat Band will be whack and she will replace words like "Sweet" and "Fresh" with words like "Sex" and "Drugs?" At what point did this girl think that it was okay to talk like that in front of her classmates? In front of me?

THANK GOD I had already been observed for the day.

So after 1 day, I made 2 phone calls to parents. But I also had the chance to talk to some of my troubled kids from last year...and without me even asking 3 out of 3 told me how they were going to do better this year and thank you for not giving up on them last year.

Maybe there is hope.