Sympathy From the Devil

It’s the first day of the last six weeks. This is it—the big push. It’s also an in-service day, which is desperately needed. Not only do I have today to get all of my grades in, but I also need to figure out how to pull off the miracle of cramming everything else in that I’ve got to teach. So what does Pécan do?

Calls a faculty meeting.

It turns out that he just wanted to give a pep talk to the troops before we begin our little Battle of the Bulge, so you can’t be too peeved at the man. Or can you?
He started out okay, but then he headed into dangerous territory. Meaning, he tried to relate to us.

“Hey, teaching’s not easy. I’ve been there. There was this one time when I was being evaluated, and my administrator pointed out that I wasn’t waiting 5 seconds for student responses, but 3. Can you imagine?”

No, I can’t imagine. Wait, if by that you mean can I imagine just how out of touch you are, then yes. Yes, I can imagine.

When was he last teaching in a classroom? I know for a fact that he was the principal when this school opened in 1976.

Over the past two years, I’ve feared for my life, kids are having sex in every nook and cranny (I’m talking about in the school, stop) and I have been insulted again and again. So if you’ll excuse me if I say that Pécan’s antiquated anecdote does diddly squat for me. Kids are stealing from us, for goodness sake!

Wait five seconds? Seriously!

Ooh, what else? Tell us more—boys sticking girls’ pigtails in the ink wells? Kids ducking, but not covering on A-bomb drills?

I’m sorry folks, this is just not one of those days for people other than teachers to try to relate. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my grades in before campus security presents its seminar on drug trafficking in schools.

Just like in the good ol’ days.