Just One of the Few Awesome Ideas I Had This Week

It's finally summer in San Diego.  But the ocean is still frigid.  I hate wearing my fullsuit -- too hard to get in and out of without flashing everyone.  And the sun's hot enough to where you really only need something to keep your legs warm.  Duh:  neoprene legwarmers!  Sure, your feet will be cold, but you will look so cute!  Granted, they could only be worn on small longboard days, or else you'd have to worry about them coming off.  Getting them to slouch just-so would be a challenge, but it's doable.

As a child of the '80s, whose parents made her walk to school during blizzards, I often wore leg warmers when I wanted to wear my favorite outfit (lavendar ruffled miniskirt with matching pink unicorn sweatshirt).  Stupid Ohio winters/lazy parents weren't about to keep me from looking cute.  I had pink ones.  They were so hot, and I couldn't wait to be cast in Fame as the talented seven-year-old ballerina that guest star Ralph Macchio would fall for. 

My sister had rainbow ones which I hated because they were too thick and went up too high.  But when it was really cold, my mom would make me wear my sister's.  Uhm, why don't you just freaking drive me to school instead, Mom???  I would also like some thigh-high UGGS for the winter.  Another company came out with over-the-knee shearling boots, but they don't go up high enough.  And before you think I'm lazy and wonder why I can't put on sweat pants, you should know that putting on pants of any kind is too hard when your hands are frozen and you are too numb to dry off, so that you can never get your pants pulled up over your wet butt even though your butt is rather flat.  I'm pretty sure worrying about the winter in the middle of August is just another drawback of trying to live with cryophobia.  Don't worry, I'll be strong for you guys!

The End of an Error

So I've (obviously) been a little conflicted about ending the teaching thing.  And I feel like even more of a hypocrite because I'm sitting and listening to this song

which I never would have discovered if it weren't for one of my favorite students making me a mix.  She always sat in the back and was very quiet, but always knew her shit.  Total overachiever who was definitely bored because there were so many slackers in her class.  She painted something for a final project that was so amazing I almost brought it with me when I cleaned out my classroom.  I was a little shocked when Ladyfingers told me she was one of his least favorite students.  He said she always gave him dirty looks and was coasting.  I showed him her painting and he had a hard time believing that the student who was always trying to sleep in his class had produced work of that caliber.

Now I was wondering if I was giving her too much credit, and if I had been duped by her star pupil act which she knew Ladyfingers could see right through.  Or, I could go the Pollyanna route and choose to believe that my (far superior) method of interacting with students inspired her to stay awake.  And this would be the crux of the teaching dilemma with which I could never fully reconcile.  What I mean is that I know you can't reach all students at all times.  But I know how my 12th grade AP English teacher made a few offhand observations about me which I still mull over to this day***.  And I know how my AP Bio teacher's offhand snarky comments sent me into a tailspin of self loathing.  Granted, much of life is about dealing with setbacks and unpleasant things, but I still felt like such a hypocrite when I got annoyed with students who were so affected by some remark I'd unthinkingly made.  I wanted to tell them that most of what I said didn't really mean anything, and that for the most party I really didn't care enough to like or dislike the majority of my students.

But I acted the same way they did as an ADULT in grad school when I felt a professor didn't like what I wrote.  This makes it difficult to dismiss the hypersensitive students' feelings because I am still the same way.  And I'm old!  And  know better.  But I also know that I only cared about impressing the teachers who weren't idiots.  I mean, I wasn't exactly sweating the fact that my gym teacher said I sucked at softball and was a disgrace to athletes everywhere.  (Softball is dumb.  That is why I'm not good at it.) 

This little dilemma was also an issue during my performance review.  The whole concept of this review at my school is such a joke.  I know it's difficult to assess teachers' perfomances, but coming into my classroom for ten minutes at the end of the school year is kind of ridiculous.  It's not like I'm going to get a raise based on how well I do.  It's not like I'll get a promotion, either.  I'll just be told I'm a natural, given a pat on the back, and be expected to come in all summer long and work for free.  And just to give you something to strive for, they always tell you something that needs improvement.  Such horseshit, because again, it's not like you are assessing me as if teaching were a real job.  I guess I should tell you about my observation.

So I'm having a discussion with my Regular 11th grade English class.  Regular at my school means remedial.  It means ADHD, emotional problems, and kids with English as second language issues.  I was kind of scared to teach them, as I'd gotten the scoop on the "bad" kids before school started.  Anyway, I've found that ruling through fear and having high expectations gets the most out of kids.  I'm sure that's illegal to say, but the class is way less stressful for me, and for everyone else, if the kids aren't acting like wild animals in my presence.  So I was ready to Stand and Deliver these misfits.  And I always gave them the option of doing an easy book or doing the exact same thing as my Honors (really Regular) kids.  They always chose the challenge.  Now I'd like to say they all turned into geniuses by the end of the year, but in all honesty they couldn't really process a lot of what they were reading.  But they tried.  Hard.  And that's why I ended up liking these kids more than most of my Honors students. 

However, our discussions were always painful because they weren't able to engage with the material in a really "meaningful" way.  I guess you have to start somewhere, but I hope I didn't make too many of them feel discouraged about not getting most of what I was saying.  I always told them that the books made sense to me because I was an adult, and when I was their age I didn't get the books either.  And that the only reason it made sense to me now was because I'd listened to teachers and always did my work  I'm not sure if that was the right thing to say, b/c I certainly don't remember any of my teachers admitting to being stupid in their subject area.  Oh well.  I see no point in being deceptive to a bunch of kids who can smell a phony a mile away. 

And speaking of not being deceptive, during my observation I guess I made some funny expressions at the kids when they were giving me some ridiculous answers.  My principal brought this up as something I needed to work on.  She said I was looking at the students as if, and she was choosing her words very carefully, their answers were unintelligent.  Well you know I had to give her a look as if what she had said was unintelligent.  Of course if a kid gives a stupid answer I will look at them like they're stupid.  But only if the stupidity is a result of them not doing the work, or not paying attention. 

You see, when you're being observed, you have to call on all of the students or else you get in trouble for ignoring the students who aren't raising their hands.  But when you call on those students, they say stupid shit b/c they don't want to talk.  And then you look stupid and the discussion stalls and you're supposed to sit there for as long as it takes until they give the right answer.  Which makes the kids who are paying attention stop paying attention.  And then that poor kid who is shy and hates to volunteer is dying on the inside as you stare at them expectantly waiting for the answer.  And then there are the kids who know you are being observed so they decide to sabotage you, because some kids are assholes and I was an asshole at that age, too.  And some of them want to help you, so they try to talk, but they are talking just to talk, and again, the discussion goes to hell.  Anyway, I'm trying to call on everyone, because I had so show that my discussion style had changed since my previous observation where I was told to improve by halting the discussion until the kid says the correct answer.  (I'm not even going to get into the problem of subjectivity in an English class versus finding the answer to a math problem.)  The discussion derailed into a total trainwreck.  But my principal had to admit I was following her idiotic steps.  I win.

Okay, I will stop rambling and get to the point.  I guess I dislike coddling 17-year olds who aren't children.  If they go out into the world and try to say or do something about which they have no clue, people will look at them like they're morons.  But I also realize I can't be too snarky, either.  Because I'm not dealing with adults.  I'm dealing with kids who have gone through school being made to feel stupid because of some arbitrary test scores.  And I'm finally the one teacher who isn't treating them like they're morons.  And as long as they're trying, I am happy.  But I can't say this to my principal.  I have to sit there and say, "I had no idea; I will definitely work on that!"  And she knows I'm full of shit.  And she knows she's full of shit, too.  And I know that you always have to jump through hoops with whatever job you have.  I just find it insulting that someone with some joke of an online education degree, who taught 5th grade science, is telling me to treat teenagers as if they are babies.

Yes, I can recognize the irony of this post.  Which is why I don't want to be the one teacher who unwittingly makes some casual remark that crushes some kid's fragile ego.   I am glad I got out of teaching before I caused any permanent (that I'm aware of) damage.  My room with a view - brings back scary memories of being stuck in a classroom, doesn't it?

***She asked me to stay after to discuss my college essay where I'd written about feeding carrots to horses.  (Can you believe Chapel Hill waitlisted me?!)  She started talking and I kind of spaced out.  She said something about how she sees a constant struggle between a sensitive soul and a hardass.  She said the struggle between the two was very apparent, and therefore quite endearing, and she was curious to see which one would triumph.  I remember thinking I should reread Heart of Darkness since we'd been discussing that book in class and I didn't remember a character like that.  She was talking about me.  I looked at her perplexed, wondering how she'd gotten that from carrots, but I thanked her for her feedback and walked away.  And then I was all, oh my god, it's like my mom and dad's respective clashing personalities are now fighting in me!  And then I probably went home and played The Smiths and cried over some guy falling in love with my friend and not me because her boobs were bigger.

The Funkadelic

Well.  I am in a mood. This is day 13 of being sick.  This is day 753,345 of it being cold and cloudy.  This is also day four of it being unsurfably flat.  Not that I have been able to surf, because I have been too sick to do anything other than ride my bike for a block before realizing I need a nap and new lungs.

I haven't blogged in forever because I've been waiting to be in a good mood before I write anything to do a goodbye teaching post.  But the picture I want to lead with diappeared when I had to get a new phone.  And then whenever I try to retrieve it from my wireless account, the site crashes. So I thought, after enduring 3 weeks of laptop issues, I'd be able to eventually fix everything and retrieve my gd picture.  But noooo.  That is not the case.  I hate you, Verizon!  So here I am.  Cranky, bored, unemployed, unable to work on my fitness, single, losery.

Things were fun for a bit.  I went out a lot.  Surfed a lot.  Smooched a respectable amount.  And then I got sick from surfing in poop water (notice it wasn't from the other two activities).  I would also like to give a shoutout to Kleenex for adding lotion to their tissues.  So I guess I should wait to write the teaching post.  All I can say now is that I have spent the last four years doing the wrong thing.  And it is weird to not be spending this time fretting over my syllabus and reading list while dreading the start of school.  And it is weird when people ask me what I do for a living.  When you tell people you teach they usually react in one of the following ways:

1) They give you a dirty look because you are a waste of taxpayers' money, and you only work 5 months out of the year, and you have the super easy job of making 120 unstable adolescents do the exact opposite of what they want to do in a way that makes them not realize that they're doing the exact opposite of what they want to do and you usually achieve this by dancing around like a circus monkey.

2) They think you are a depraved sex offender.

3) They think you are dumb.

I'll admit it:  I never liked telling people I was a teacher. There are many wonderful and amazing teachers, and I am just not that kind of person.  I like to make a living wage.  I am okay with the concept of dressing like a grown-up.   Okay, this post obviously sucks and is rambling.  I will stop.  I am just so not good with abundant free time, as I just sit around and overanalyze the fact that I am destined to only be attracted to assholes.  Yes, I am talking about Granny Panties Guy!  He hasn't texted me today.  That, along with no job, no sun, no waves, no lung capacity, is making me extremely pissy.