The education profession: typically absurd, oftentimes entertaining, frequently insightful

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The bottom of my feet have mosquito bites all over them and are incredibly swollen, itchy, and painful. I was complaining about this fact and stated, “The bottom of my feet are so itchy!” at lunch. A colleague seated near by misheard me and said, “Um, okay. Too much information…if your butt is itchy, just scratch it!”

How on earth she got “itchy butt” out of “bottom of my foot” is beyond me. What I now know is that scratching your butt is a cure for everything that might ail a student. For instance, scratching your butt is the end-all-be-all cure for:

  1. Needing to go to the bathroom
  2. Wanting to visit the nurse
  3. Having to sharpen a pencil
  4. Suffering migraines after reading for 5 minutes
  5. Feeling hungry

etc.

  • Me: *giving instructions* blah blah blah bla--
  • Stinky Student: *toot!*
  • Entire group (including myself) busts up laughing
  • Student 1: Did he just fart?
  • Stinky Student: yeaaaahhhhh
  • Student 1: Hey, Ms. B. He's chagrined! You just told me what that word meant!

"Would you STOP making goo-goo eyes at some gorgeous girl across the room and focus on what I am saying. Honestly, what could be more important than the sound of my voice? Don’t hurt my feelings, child."

- me to a love-sick 6th grader

  • Student: Why are you here? You've never come to reading class before.
  • Me: Ah, well. I heard you missed me.
  • Student: Nahhhh.
  • Me: Oh? Fine then. You can't borrow my brain to help you.
  • Student: Wait, you're here to help me? Cool! I guess you can stay.

"I’ve got this, Ms. B. I don’t need help because I can find the answers faster than you can. I was born to do this! Look, one more to go! HA-HA! I BEAT YOU!"

- so saith a student who was filling out a worksheet

"GWALP adds: Warning for harsh language.

On a somewhat serious note today because of a conversation the other day:

I am sure every girl can recall, at least once as a child, coming home and telling their parents, uncle, aunt or grandparent about a boy who had pulled her hair, hit her, teased her, pushed her or committed some other playground crime. I will bet money that most of those, if not all, will tell you that they were told “Oh, that just means he likes you”. I never really thought much about it before having a daughter of my own. I find it appalling that this line of bullshit is still being fed to young children. Look, if you want to tell your child that being verbally and/or physically abused is an acceptable sign of affection, i urge you to rethink your parenting strategy. If you try and feed MY daughter that crap, you better bring protective gear because I am going to shower you with the brand of “affection” you are endorsing.

When the fuck was it decided that we should start teaching our daughters to accept being belittled, disrespected and abused as endearing treatment? And we have the audacity to wonder why women stay in abusive relationships? How did society become so oblivious to the fact that we were conditioning our daughters to endure abusive treatment, much less view it as romantic overtures? Is this where the phrase “hitting on girls” comes from? Well, here is a tip: Save the “it’s so cute when he gets hateful/physical with her because it means he loves her” asshattery for your own kids, not mine. While you’re at it, keep them away from my kids until you decide to teach them respect and boundaries.

My daughter is `10 years old and has come home on more than one occasion recounting an incident at school in which she was teased or harassed by a male classmate. There has been several times when someone that she was retelling the story to responded with the old, “that just means he likes you” line. Wrong. I want my daughter to know that being disrespected is NEVER acceptable. I want my daughter to know that if someone likes her and respects her, much less LOVES her, they don’t hurt her and they don’t put her down. I want my daughter to know that the boy called her ugly or pushed her or pulled her hair didn’t do it because he admires her, it is because he is a little asshole and assholes are an occurrence of society that will have to be dealt with for the rest of her life. I want my daughter to know how to deal with assholes she will encounter throughout her life. For now, I want my daughter to know that if someone is verbally harassing her, she should tell the teacher and if the teacher does nothing, she should tell me. If someone physically touches her, tell the teacher then, if it continues, to yell, “STOP TOUCHING/PUNCHING/PUSHING ME” in the middle of class or the hallway, then tell me. Last year, one little boy stole her silly bandz from her. He just grabbed her and yanked a handful of them off of her wrist. When I went to the school to address the incident, the teacher smiled and explained it away to her, in front of me, “he probably has a crush on you”. Okay, the boy walked up to my daughter, grabbed and held her by the arm and forcibly removed her bracelets from her as she struggled and you want to convince her that she should be flattered? Fuck off. I am going to punch you in the face but I hope you realize it is just my way of thanking you for the great advice you gave my daughter. If these same advice givers’ sons came home crying because another male classmate was pushing them, pulling their hair, hitting them or calling them names, I would bet dollars to donuts they would tell him to defend themselves and kick the kid’s ass, if necessary. They sure as shit wouldn’t say, “he probably just wants a play date”.

I will teach my daughter to accept nothing less than respect. Anyone who hurts her physically or emotionally doesn’t deserve her respect, friendship or love. I will teach my boys the same thing as well as the fact that hitting on girls doesn’t involve hitting girls. I can’t teach my daughter to respect herself if I am teaching her that no one else has to respect her. I can’t raise sons that respect women, if I teach them that bullying is a valid expression of affection.

The next time that someone offers up that little “secret” to my daughter, I am going to slap the person across the face and yell, “I LOVE YOU”.

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Source: viewsfromthecouch.com

twentysomethingrealist:

teaching

twentysomethingrealist:

teaching

Source: twentythreeyearsoflife

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Me: (after walking into a conversation about how pole dancing should be added to the curriculum to teach geometry and math concepts) “You’re sick! Why I sit here with you crazy people I have no idea. You’re all dirty-minded!”

Another teacher: “Awwww, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. We’re free entertainment!”

I have the pleasure of working with some amazing teachers. Some are stand-up comedians without any training. A few are calm, cool, and collected—nothing riles them, and they take everything in stride. Others are taxed to the max but always want to hear how you’re doing: their priority is other people, not themselves. All these quirks and idiosyncrasies and insanities and quick wits gets melded together over food that gets scarfed down every single day. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by people who genuinely care about each other, want to swap stories, add levity to stressful days, and simply enjoy being with one another.

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

From “The Nervous Breakdown”

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A friend of mine posed this as a rhetorical statement, but I like answering the obvious. I think every pre-teen grapples with this at some point, and since their self-worth is the most important thing to them, it’s worth addressing here.

The person who does deserve to be with us probably doesn’t. I don’t mean it in a conceited or condescending way. Everybody’s got their flaws. For instance, I’m too demanding in my standards; I’m opinionated; I don’t respond well to change, and I’m sarcastic to the point of being callous. But I’ve got some redeeming qualities that make me much too good for other people. I’m patient; I’m aware of what my actions do to others; I can always find good in a situation, and I persevere when most people would give up.

With this in mind, the guy I would want to have a relationship with would be not by happenstance, but because I chose him. I would have allowed him to see my bouts of craziness, paw through my memories, and break all barriers of privacy. That’s a privilege, a right, something that should be earned. If I gave away my sense of self willingly, I’d become even more cynical than I am now about forming relationships. Despite my jaded outlook though, I’ve learned there’s two types of love: “falling in love” and “to love someone.” Both involve choosing who we deserve to be with, but I prefer the latter.

“Falling in love” is temporary. It’s an infatuation, a fling, a one-night stand, a crush. It leaves you dizzy, breathless, and recovering from a hangover to cure the heartache afterwards. “Falling in love” implies a sense of forward action. It’s something that is constant in its infancy but will at some point hit the ground and smash into pieces. This love cannot last. It is doomed from the beginning to stop. “To love someone” is the stable counterpart to “falling in love.” “To love someone” means there is no resting place. Its course cannot be altered. It is simply a state of being where you need the other person to survive and that person wants you because he/she also needs you to survive.

The latter option is the more complicated one. In theory, “to love someone” sounds easy, but we may not find this person immediately. Or maybe this person is already there, and we just don’t see it. Or maybe we only think we need somebody else, not realizing we’re perfectly capable of surviving alone because we’re just too damn awesome. Whatever the case, we choose which kind of love we want, and we determine who deserves to be with us. Love is not a game of chance like Russian Roulette or Spin the Bottle. It’s us calling the shots and deciding who to kiss.