Freshmen

(disclaimer: I really do love my kids)

We’re in the final quarter of the year and the gorgeous weather has only once been marred by a flood day.  As the temperature increases so does the number of referrals and asshole behaviors my kids exhibit.   It hasn’t been a full day until at least one kid loudly mutters that they hate my class or says something else that makes me want to cry.  I thought I was done with the season of life where freshmen girls are the main antagonists of my life, but alas, here we are again.  It’s a miracle that their class gets anything done at all, with their fake coughing every other breath (and what asshole teacher tells a kid to stop coughing?  This one.  Didn’t go well.) or other ridiculous antics.

My second period at this point is the equivalent of a whack-a-mole game at an arcade, and I should be swimming in tickets.  As soon as one kid quiets down, they yell at another one to shut up, who then passes it around while I stand and stare at the ceiling, one of three silent humans in the room.  Also, what is it with 14 year old girls?  Is being cruel a sign that they like you?  A day doesn’t go by where one of them doesn’t walks by, looks back at me, and lovingly comments “nobody likes you” or the like, all with a sweet smile.  I’m still holding out hope that it’s like the boy who let you know he was crushing on you by punching you in the face during kindergarten recess.

Then, the other day my plan of having a decent-paying job one day was squelched once again when my coworker related how she’s having a hard time getting a job, because employers see her past three years as “just being a teacher”.  This is obviously absurd and so help the person who says that to my face next (obviously my grandma can’t always be held responsible for her actions, so it’ll be the next person who pays).  I’ve decided after my first three quarters of surviving in the field of education that teaching is like shoving your 100+ kids onto a blanket that you’re then tasked with dragging through a muddy landscape to an oasis.  However, instead of understanding what the end goal is and actually trying to assist you in this herculean ordeal, the kids mostly pelt you with globs of mud and try and escape off into the abyss.  Pray for us.

I’m so tired that it didn’t occur to me until 3:05 pm last Thursday that maybe it was odd that a child in my second period had spent his hour in my classroom wearing a kleenex box on his head.  I still don’t know what’s in the breakfast they’re fed every morning.