Class-ified as ‘Dangerous’
I made a pact with the devil today. Better yet, I made a pact to get rid of some devils.
I took on another prep. I’m teaching the first semester of senior English during this second semester. It’s for those who need to pass in order to graduate on time, but time is running out. So, I’m looking at teaching a class I’ve never taught before to students who didn’t exactly thrive previously with teachers with experience on the material—starting tomorrow!
So why would I agree to such a situation when Borrish proposed it to me? I did it because she promised that it would take the place of my current fourth period class.
People, I’m telling you that my fourth period’s the class from hell. By the chance of schedule creation by the counselors, I ended with the dregs in a single class—the dregs, crowned with the offensive. They are like The Dirty Dozen of the education world, except there are thirty-two and probably had more training with weapons. Have you not noticed how I haven’t really been talking much about my students lately? It’s because it’s been too traumatic!
There’s the guy who uses the F-bomb so much that he makes Tony Montana look like Joel Osteen. Then there’s the kid who celebrates the fact that the number of condom wrappers in his used condom wrapper jar is steadily outgrowing the amount of condoms in condom jar. Who has those kinds of jars?! And let’s not forget the young ‘lady’ who slips the argument that the Klan doesn’t get a fair shake into every single one of her analysis. The list goes on…
What can I say? I gave up on them. It was either them or me, so I decided to run to fight another day. I had tried everything (appealed to their senses, called home, had administration intervention). Blowing up that roll sheet was the best outcome because there’s strength in numbers and that’s bad, especially when that number is 666.
Sure, now they’ll go and infect other classrooms, but think about it like it’s radiation. Everyone can take small doses. It’s heavy exposure that’s dangerous, and I was without one of those protective suits.
I took on another prep. I’m teaching the first semester of senior English during this second semester. It’s for those who need to pass in order to graduate on time, but time is running out. So, I’m looking at teaching a class I’ve never taught before to students who didn’t exactly thrive previously with teachers with experience on the material—starting tomorrow!
So why would I agree to such a situation when Borrish proposed it to me? I did it because she promised that it would take the place of my current fourth period class.
People, I’m telling you that my fourth period’s the class from hell. By the chance of schedule creation by the counselors, I ended with the dregs in a single class—the dregs, crowned with the offensive. They are like The Dirty Dozen of the education world, except there are thirty-two and probably had more training with weapons. Have you not noticed how I haven’t really been talking much about my students lately? It’s because it’s been too traumatic!
There’s the guy who uses the F-bomb so much that he makes Tony Montana look like Joel Osteen. Then there’s the kid who celebrates the fact that the number of condom wrappers in his used condom wrapper jar is steadily outgrowing the amount of condoms in condom jar. Who has those kinds of jars?! And let’s not forget the young ‘lady’ who slips the argument that the Klan doesn’t get a fair shake into every single one of her analysis. The list goes on…
What can I say? I gave up on them. It was either them or me, so I decided to run to fight another day. I had tried everything (appealed to their senses, called home, had administration intervention). Blowing up that roll sheet was the best outcome because there’s strength in numbers and that’s bad, especially when that number is 666.
Sure, now they’ll go and infect other classrooms, but think about it like it’s radiation. Everyone can take small doses. It’s heavy exposure that’s dangerous, and I was without one of those protective suits.
- H.T. at 8:32 AM
