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3:57 p.m. - 2001-06-12
I'm special, cuz mom told me so

Provisional for Life

...or so it seems.

Apparently, my illustrious state has decided to make provisional teachership an additional year longer. Hence, without the benefit of a grandfather clause, I shall be grunt-extraordinaire for another wonderful year. (My superintendent knew for 3 months and I, alas, knew 30 seconds.)Hence, I have to pay a non-working mentor ANOTHER year for nothing. Hence, I must somehow purchase a bank check before tomorrow to the sum of $50. Why? Because the state absolutely LOOOOOOVES me. I'm special. Check the rules, apparently I'm at #1.

But, they won't pay my mentor for this year. Murphy's Law. Murphy's Law. Murphy's Law. Mark my words, next year, I'll have to serve another year sucking ass and biting my tongue. Watch, they'll change tenure too. I'm so special. Wonderously special. So special, that they issued me a special title, "Stupid."

You like? I loooooooove it. *mua*

Ok, today I realized how much *shit* I need to do before next Wednesday's graduation. I'm sure glad they told me this in college. The college that boasted "we teach you EVERYTHING about teaching" has neglected to teach me ANYTHING about being a teacher.

I knew where to find the pencil sharpener. That's it.

They forgot to mention that procrastination leads to stress which leads to sleepless nights which leads to more stress which inevitably leads to nasty mood swings.

I've become my mother!

And, she's not even a teacher. BUT, she's organized. Maybe she'll do my classroom stuff if I promise to quit smoking or cover up my ankle tattoo (which I have had for a few years).

Speaking of... should I wear my cropped pants (for those who are male: women's style pants more commonly associated with FLOODS) and flash my tat or conceal it under sticky hot long pants and socks?

What a cunnundrum (hey, I never claimed to be proficient in spelling).

*sighs*

I'm hot. I'm tired. I'm PROCRASTINATING, still. I'm sick of talking. I'm sick of my NT puter at school that crashes. Hell, I'm just plain ole sick.

:)

Ain't that special?

Ok, so here's another thing. I have just about given up prepping these kids for their finals. Of a class of 24, only 14 want to learn. 14! Yet, I drudge on, monotone, occassionally being psychotic, and drumming along with my pre-planned review. I dispursed my "take home" portion which sent my first period into a TITHER. (thither? whither? hmm) Anyways, it's 45 questions about American history. *oooh aaah ooooh* They can find it online or in their books. I made it due for THursday. That's more than enough time to either finish it or lose it. I'm not giving copies. I'm not giving answers. I might not even grade the damned thing. I am just testing to see who has determination. I probably will grade it, now that I know that I have to turn IN my grade book at the end of the year. (Which, in case you didn't know, is next Wednesday.) And, btw, I've mentioned to the kids a gazillion plus 3 times that their take home is due this Thursday (I even had them write it on their papers.) and yet, I still am getting IM's (When is that take home thingy due??). Will they ever learn?

I already found out that some kids are hitting the other history teachers up for answers on the sheet. I told the teachers if they help, I'm failing the kids for that portion. Why? Because I am the FROTHY HISTORY BITCH. *bows*

I don't know about you, but instead of losing weight, I'm packing it on my ass and hips for future use (in the event I'm stranded on an island in the South Pacific that no ships pass). This stress is making me poochie and frumpy. Screw the skinny-eat-all-ya-want teachers... I want company with the less-than-thin. Those who feel compelled to down a salad, sammich, and cookies during lunch. Those who snack on ANYTHING because its there. Those who FLEE the power of exercise and healthy eating. People who feel that chocolate is a gift from God. I want them as friends.

I hate calories. Actually, I've ignored calories this year. This is my fat first year. Next year, I shall be a svelt size um....*insert appropriate size number* and be popular, happy, and a less than frothy bitch (but bitch nonetheless).

*feel the grin*

Another funny thing happened to me today (God, I'm whining way too much lately). A freshman ranked me among the male teachers (WHY? I'm a chick... I tell ya, gender discrepancies...ugh) and I ranked pretty well. If you take away their "hottness", I rank pretty well. If you add their masculinity and manliness, I rank in the upper 80%ile. Which means, I ROCK. Hehe. I knew I was cooler and more hip w/o trying to fend off fainting girls. I'm awesome. I'm special. Um, I'm stupid?

:)

Well, I must I must I must retype a test (yes, it doesn't rhyme).

 

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