Forgive me for being the bringer of gloom and doom to your day, but something is terribly wrong in this country. If I had enough money left from my previous investments, I would open a handbasket factory.
Where is the decorum? Where are our manners? Just today, I had a girl tattle on another girl. "She is saying that I called her!" Hmm...OK, I'll bite. "That you called her what?" She flounced her hair and returned to her seat. Over her shoulder, she said, "She's saying that I called her!" So I took it out on the perpetrator, wanting to nip this type of atrocity in the bud before my class could assume that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's class is a free-for-all, survival-of-the-fittest kind of place. "WHAT is going on? Because it needs to stop. Right now!" The Perp spouted, "She called me on the phone. I still have these scratches on my chest..." ENOUGH! I cut her off. Nipped her right in the bud. "This is ninth grade! You're not in middle school anymore, getting out of class to discuss your issues in the counselor's office. You're not going to like everyone in life, and everyone is not going to like you. Just keep your mouth shut, and it will solve a lot of problems. Whatever your problem is with each other, it has nothing to do with my class. Nobody is going to get picked on in here, and if we need to, we can go right up to Mr. Principal's office and get this straightened out. Because it IS going to stop. And I guarantee you that I will be the winner of any battle that starts in here." Apparently, I made my point.
But what's the use? We've become a nation of "You lie!" A nation of people jumping up onto the stage to usurp the glory from an award-winner. A nation of people wanting to shove a f-ing ball down a linesman's f-ing throat in the tennis match of life. A nation of kids pummeling a kid who is different from them while buddies cheer them on, all because he sat down in a seat on the school bus. A nation of people killing their fellow Yale lab workers and stuffing them behind a wall. A nation where even the lab killer could be exempt from execution if he didn't have the right veins. Pardon me while I squeeze a single garbage Indian tear down my cheek.
Oh, and to further bring you down...handwashing does not protect you from the swine flu. Put that in your medicinal marijuana that you bought from a vending machine pipe and smoke it. And forget about all that cleanliness is next to godliness crapola. Your shower is making you sick.
Uh huh. Let's just be ourselves and forget about the feelings of anyone else. Let's be unwashed and dirty-handed and ugly through and through. Because people today don't see anything wrong with it.
Give Her A Handbasket. That would be the name of my new business that I can't afford.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
PREACH IT!
HBM< you are not the only teacher I know that has thought time and time again, especially lately, about taking on another careerv path. It is sad, because good teachers will be few and far between if something is not done soon and quickly.
Just the other week I caught sight of my favourite Biology teacher. Where you might ask me? She served me at a local shop. Gave up the teaching to do something less stressful and even more rewarding.
Miss Ann,
Glad you hear me, Sistah!
Cazzie,
I took six years off one time because I had a craw-full. That's when I worked for the unemployment office, adjudicating claims. I loved it, but they went all automated on me and eliminated my job, among others. Now it is all done by telephone, and out of one office.
Cazzie, I used to pass the garbage truck every Wednesday and Thursday mornings on my way to work, and feel sincere envy of the guys hanging off the back. They were out in the sun with the wind blowing through their county-issued blue jumpsuits. Sure, they had to handle other people's trash, and potentially expose themselves to God knows what every day, but that seemed trivial compared to spending 6 hours of my 10-ish hour work day dealing with inner-city middle schoolers, and the remaining 4 hours doing paperwork, making phone calls to parents, and sitting in faculty meetings listening to how shitty of a job I was doing. Thank goodness once that was over I always got to go home--- and grade papers, write plans, record grades, and prepare for the next day.
I'm on Facebook and some of my former coworkers are on there. Every time there's a faculty meeting, they use their phones to update their statuses, and it's really been making me grateful not to be there.
Post a Comment