I am a substitute teacher and that, my friends, is enough to make anyone say, "Hey Stupid, why don't you just join the army?"
Example #1: Several weeks ago I subbed for a first grade class at a bilingual elementary school. The only message the techer left for me on the substitute phone system was regarding one student in her class. Let us call him, Johnny Smith-Jones. In my experience, when a kid has a hyphenated last name, it's a pretty good indication that he or she may have some issues. Let's be honest, I don't need a fruity tweed-head sociologist to tell me divorce has a profound effect on young children.
When I got to school I found a detailed plan ready wherein I was supposed to be monitoring and recording Johnny's behavior on the half-hour.
Anyway, we started the day with a refreshing stretch and one lap around the field. (I honor their regular teacher for coming up with that ingenious plan. I think two, maybe even three laps would be great...) So, to make a long story short, we're going around the field and Johnny is lagging behind. I encourage him to keep up with me, he grumbles, slows down, speeds up, then finally catches up with me, turns to me and says: "Satan rules."
What? I said. "Satan rules." Faint echoes of excorcism dance through my head. But I am, after all, a trained professional. So I calmly look him up and down before I say, "Why's that?" Johnny paused, as if seriously considering the issue, before replying simply, "Naw, I'm just kidding. Satan sucks." Phew! That was a close one. Obviously, the day was going to go OK after all. And as it turns out, I only had to send him to the office twice, for laying down on the floor and falling asleep (his teacher told me to send him to the office to sleep), and once for smearing goat's blood on the other students' desks. Wait, no, actually it was for refusing to stop shouting. Whatever. The poor child. Best of luck Johnny, if you make it past first-grade, you can probably do anything.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Holy Crap! The seasons have changed twice, and nary a blog from me, the administrator, the one responsible for the upkeep and responsible operation of this key site. The good people at blogger give me my very own forum and what I do with it? Nothing! I leave it writhing for air like a naked astronaut. My shame is a chunky stain on the pearly tablecloth of blogdom. What can I say? I can't even bear to blog... I'm going to have to go take a long, longish, longiful look in the mirror and reaffirm my commitment to the fair privelege that is blogging. Excuse me...