I am a teacher. I teach. I plan, organize, assess, evaluate, modify, reevaluate, reassess, research, deliver, monitor, manage, entertain, and enlighten. I also pass out band-aids, tease out smiles, determine whether restroom requests truly are “urgent,” manage materials, distribute papers, correct assignments, enter grades, create report cards, make phone calls home, arrange and conduct parent-teacher conferences, motivate reluctant learners, create bulletin boards, manage schedules, run an after school club, supervise the playground, gather lunch money, arrange book orders, update a classroom website, mediate disputes, supervise clean up, monitor supply levels, analyze data, create multimedia presentations, gather appropriate online resources, evaluate potential special needs, adapt curriculum, differentiate instruction, and about a thousand other things. I care about my students and I care about my school community. I am fully involved in the goings on of my students. But here’s the thing: there are 31 of them, and one of me.

Now on to the part that irritates me, and trust me, it’s not the kids. What pisses me off more than anything is people who have a strong sense of entitlement. There, I said it. That, in general, is enough to get my goat, but when it applies to the school setting, it makes me crazy. Parents, please be aware that I am just as fond of little Eustace as I am of any other child I have taught in my career. Ok, maybe that’s not entirely true, but odds are he’s not my least favorite student of all time, and really, it doesn’t matter anyway, because in my classroom he’s going to get a fair shake no matter what.

Please don’t ask me to make him extra homework packets because you threw his out. Please don’t ask me to tutor him after school because you’re too busy to sit with him and help him learn his math facts. Please don’t tell me about how you’re going to make sure he does his homework, then the following day make excuses for him. He needs you a lot more than he needs me. Parents, please, I am doing the best I can. A five minute phone call isn’t a big deal, but several of them each day becomes extremely time consuming.

I’m not unwilling to work with you. I WANT to work with you. But please, be willing to do your part too. Get little Eustace to school on time each day, check over his work each evening, and look through his backpack. Talk to him about school, and life, and be there for him. He needs you. He really really does.

September 24, 2013
by BulgingButtons Leave a comment

Daily Passion Prompt 19: Looking Back on My Life

Today’s Question

Imagine that you’re 80 years old, sitting in your rocking chair reflecting back on your life.

What do you want to look back on? What memories do you want to smile about?

Lucky me, I already have so much to smile about as I look back on my life. I have loving relationships, new challenges, rewarding work, and all sorts of amazing memories. You know all those cute sayings that people pin on Pinterest and buy on canvasses at their local craft stores? Of course you do. The ones about home and family and living and loving and laughing? The ones about memories and faith and commitment and joy and friendship? Well, I don’t need those. Why? Because I have that stuff in my life and in my memory banks. I don’t need to see it plastered on the wall, and in fact I’m pretty sure that the people who have those all over the place will be tired of them in a year or two and replace them with cows or giraffes or bunnies, or whatever else is hot in home decor that season.

I love and am loved. I live within my means. I have traveled. I have tried new things. I have hopes and dreams and aspirations. I’m reasonably well educated and relatively well rounded. I’m generally well liked and fairly well respected in my personal and professional lives. I’m good.

By the time I’m in my rocking chair, I hope to have many more good memories, far fewer unpleasant ones, and a legacy of love to look back upon. That should put a smile on anyone’s lips.

September 24, 2013
by BulgingButtons 17 Comments

Common Cold Delirium

I have a cold. It will more than likely turn into a sinus infection, which will then either morph into bronchitis or else end with laryngitis. This is a prediction based on past history, not the rantings of a hypochondriac lunatic, even thought that’s what it sounds like to me. Said cold is annoying, especially the fight with the accompanying stress incontinence (every sneeze is a challenge) and the internal struggle to ward off yet another monster cold sore. And I do mean monster. These things look as though they’re going to devour my face, and they take FOREVER to heal. Thank you, former husband, for sharing that particular little viral gem with me. UGH.

I didn’t share this little factoid in order to gain sympathy (although deliveries of homemade chicken soup are welcome). No, I shared it in order to let you in on a weird little secret, and to ask if I’m alone in this. You see, every time I get sick, I have these deranged delusions of grandeur about what fabulous workouts I WOULD be doing, if only I weren’t sick. If only… I would be walking three miles around the neighborhood before work. If only… I would be doing my belly dancing DVD (it’s quite challenging for me, by the way!). If only… I would be jumping rope and sparring. Really? Nah. But my mind thinks so. Why? Do I need to have my mental health checked out as well? Sniff. Now for my final “if only” thought for the day… If only I could go back to bed.