bastards.

today was rough. the kids broke me. the bastards won.

even Joe! and Joe is supposed to be one of the good ones. *sigh*

and when that happens, i always look at what i'd done. what did i do that made them behave in such a way? how did i let them get to me? how can i get them back without breaking the law?

so bear (or is it bare? i need to look that up in my cliche dictionary...remind me, Lisa) with me as i recall and assess the morning's downward spiral:

1. my skirt was uncomfortable and i was wearing a pair of those hotshort underwear. one was hiking up as the other crept down; the combination resulted in way too much fidgeting and self-doubt.

2. i was trying to figure out this new palm pilot that our Academy got from administration. i don't usually try to concentrate too hard while supervising children. this may have been a problem.

3. Mr. Married Man was out for the morning and absence among teachers leads to resentment. i would imagine it's similar in most places of employment.

4. my team-teaching partner for the morning disappeared about 40 minutes into the session (which is about 2.5 hours in length). i assumed he was on the phone (still) because that was the last place i'd seen him. so, i began secretly hating him in my mind.

5. my students were disregarding my rules for music in the computer lab. before "yelling" i offered a reminder (in the form of a question...maybe with a *twinge* of attitude--it is almost June for fuck's sake. this is not a new rule!), which was recieved with undue hostility and defensiveness. several students (even Joe) told me to "chill out!" and to "relax! damn!"

6. there was a Code Blue Shout announced over the PA system (this means that a medical emergency is taking place on school grounds. when it is announced, i grab my AED and First Aid bag and sprint to the announced location). since my co-teacher was MIA (and no one else knew he was gone), i had to leave my 25 kids unsupervised in the lab.

7. en route to said Code Blue, i run past some other students of mine who proceeded to coagulate, point, heckle, and laugh about my ability to run. i, naturally, think that i was/am/can run very well.

8. upon arrival to the scene, i am informed (as i gasp for breath...i totally had the furthest to run) that it was a false alarm. great.

9. i conceed to my grumpiness and return to the classroom to try to talk more civily with my children, hoping they'll see that they've made me sad, thus feeling badly about their behavior. it will be a blissful reconcilation that falls short of a group hug.

10. however, my students have heard from the others that i cannot run very well and inquire about my membership to any kind of track and field team in college.

i suppose it was just a day when the meek inherited the earth. or something. fuckers. i'm so going to grade them harshly on their Porfolios.

or maybe even just slip this in with some of their final assessment reports: