5 Reasons Why I’m Failing at Adulting


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1.When my students do or say something turdly, really, just once, want to say, “I know you are, but what am I?” I know… but it would be so awesome to give them a little dose of the ridiculous excuses/responses/attitudes they give me every.single.day.


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2. Every year when I renew my car registration, I don’t put the new sticker on my license plate until I get pulled over. It’s like tradition. It is just so hard and takes too much effort to wipe the dust and grime off of my license plate and place the new sticker over the 10 that are already there, about to fall off. Pure unadulterated laziness.


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3. Every month, since I was 11 (why, God?) Aunt Flo has visited. One would think that after three decades of this ridiculousness, I would know to be prepared. Yet, every month, I ruin a pair of panties and I have to waddle into the store, with an entire roll of toilet paper wrapped around the crotch of my underwear.


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4. I love to wait until the bitter end before a credit card payment is due. That way, the extra money I was planning on using to pay down some of the debt can be used to buy new shoes or way too many Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccinos far before I have to make the payment. Winning.


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5. I buy bananas for one sole purpose: I like to watch things slowly wither and die. For what other purpose do bananas serve? I sure as hell never eat them.


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5 Reasons Teaching Made (Is Making) Me (More) Fat

There’s a reason I’m fat, and it isn’t just because I eat Oreos smothered with peanut butter for breakfast.

It’s because I’m a teacher. This profession is rife with situations in which I’m faced with deciding between a few sad, old grapes or Krispy Kreme. Some days my big decision of the day is whether or not to eat the sweaty, homemade, hand delivered cookie. Sadly, the questionable cookie always wins. Mostly, being a teacher means you either drink or you check yourself into the mental hospital. Drinking excessively is more socially acceptable. Also, being clinically insane isn’t usually seen as a desired quality in the teaching world.

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“Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death”

We (as in my students and I) have been learning about the 13 British colonies and the road to revolution. Yesterday, we read about the Stamp, Tea, Sugar, and Quartering Acts. “No taxation without representation”, yo.

A colleague suggested playing a game that would entail taxing our students for certain things, like using a piece of paper, eating an apple, borrowing a pencil, etc. Each tax would fall under the acts they learned about: Stamp: “Pay me for that paper and the holes on the LEFT for the umpteenth time!”; Tea: “You want a drink of water? Pay up!”; Sugar: “Do you really think you need to eat graham crackers right after lunch? Well, then you are gonna pay.”; Quartering: “You wanna move to see the process grid? Well, it’s gonna cost.”

Can you already tell that this was way too much fun for me? Oh, it gets way better.

*evil laugh*

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5 Ways I’m Killin’ It As A Grad Student Teacher

I’m losing it, dudes. I don’t know if “doing it all” is quite my speed. I’m usually more sloth-like motivated when it comes to being busy. The idea of being highly occupied with more than one really important thing sounds like something that might come with rewards, but I usually regard those kinds of notions with a wary-eye-sneaking-around-my-bag-of-Cheetos-caution/disdain. What was I thinking believing I could do this. I don’t know if I can teacher AND student.

Following is how awesome I’m playing the part of Grad Student Teacher.

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Definitely

Well, today marked the end of my social life and any semblance of free time. Today, my first online course went live. My first assignments are due tomorrow, but like the smarty pants I am, I decided to get a head start (actually, tomorrow is my birthday, so I plan on doing nothing unpleasant all day long).

I am a huge proponent of working smarter not harder. Some examples of working smarter and not harder would be:

  1. Not reading all of your emails. You may miss a crucial email from your principal, but that is the risk you take when you receive 3,456,782 emails a day.
  2. Calling, “spraying down your shower with the detachable shower head every day when showering” cleaning your shower. It’s really genius multi-tasking, methinks.
  3. Choosing to only correct quizzes, class work, and exit tickets, but not homework, because you are not Super Can Do Everything Teacher, and ain’t nobody got time for that.
  4. Getting fast food all week, for dinner, because then you don’t need to wash dishes. Blam! Lots o’ time saved.
  5. Grading papers at red lights. AT LEAST I AM NOT TEXTING.

This is obviously an abridged list, and not complete. There are many ways in which you can save time by doing things the “smarter” way.

Today, I went about my usual “smarter not harder’ routine, and things were going swimmingly. I had skimmed through the course introduction page. I purchased books for the course on Amazon while listening to the tutorial on how to send a message to classmates. I typed up my first assignment in a record 3 minutes. I was on a real roll.

Then, immediately after turning my assignment in to the instructor, I turned in that same assignment on the discussion page, per the directions, and I noticed…

definetely. 

Yes, this college graduate-self-professed-spelling-stickler-teacher, spelled ‘definitely’ incorrectly on her very first assignment for her masters in education. 

I am killing it, guys.

FACE

My “I make killer impressions” face. 

 

When You Know You Need a Vacation

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Image courtesy Buzzfeed

Yesterday, I got a new student. He’s a spunky, sweet kid from the south. I am sure he will be a wonderful addition to our classroom. As for his opinion of me? I am going to have to be extra awesome-teacher for the next few days, let’s just put it that way.

When you get a new student, it behooves any good teacher to make a great first impression. I made sure we got all of our dedicated brain breaks throughout the day-“Hey, this is a really fun classroom-we get to do a YMCA kids Just Dance video between math and reading?!”. I made sure to emphasize the positive reward system and incentives-“If I make good decisions, I get to eat lunch with the teacher? Baller status!” I made sure my students really showed what they have been learning about ancient Rome-“Wow! They know so much about an ancient civilization. I want to be like these kids!”

After that, it all went downhill. Clark Griswold-sledding-like-a-fool-downhill-like.

Every day, I do a read-aloud about our social studies topic. In the middle of reading about Julius Caesar’s ultimate demise, someone farted.

I know, I know. What the hell is it with farts? I know.

I have always been excellent at ignoring fluffs. If you don’t, you lose instruction time, there is the potential for embarrassing the culprit, and it is just not good role model behavior. This year, however, farts have become exponentially funnier. I don’t know why.

But, I am a freaking human, alright?

I could feel it building inside. I tried to ignore it. I tried to focus on Brutus killing Caesar, “Et tu, Brute” and all that.

There wasn’t a single laugh or even any acknowledgement that it had happened.

But…it went “Bloop”.

Bloop

I couldn’t hold it in. I started laughing. I didn’t dare look at anyone. Maybe it would stop. I kept my face behind the book.

Reading…long pause…expectant re-positioning. Silent laughing. More reading. Longer pause. Not-so-silent laughing. 

Fuck. I cannot believe this is happening to me. AGAIN.

OK. STOP.

I can’t.

Because, it went “bloop”.

Bloop.

At this point, I am too far gone. You know when you are not supposed to laugh? During funerals? When someone is telling you something sad? When you are getting bad news of some sort? But, someone told you a joke before the bad news and you are still laughing, or the person talking to you has a crusty booger and you just can’t even?

It was like that. I knew I shouldn’t laugh and so, that is precisely when I can’t control laughing. 

My best friend in high school will relate, because we were the most hated students in Ms. Gibb’s class. We had laughing fits, on a daily basis, over stupid shit, like Ms. Gibb’s flock of seagulls hair. Once we started, we could.not.stop.

It was like that as my poor students sat, wide-eyed, watching their demented teacher lose her shit.

A few brave souls attempted apprehensive, “hehe’s”.

One student said, monotone, teacherly, “Are you OK, Ms. P?”

No. I was not OK.

Eventually, I did collect myself and we carried on, but not until we discussed why I was laughing. I was not laughing at the person who farted. We went over that it is a natural bodily function that is funny. Right?

The same student who asked if I was done losing my shit said, “Ms. P, that wasn’t even a fart, that was my shoe…”

It.wasn’t.even.a.fart.

What an excellent first impression for my new student. Teacher of the year right here.

fart

Image courtesy of wm-n.glb.shawcable.net

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Image courtesy of housetalkn.com

He’s Made of Ceramic, Guys

My students have really taken to our class “pet”, Messy. So much so, that I’m wondering now if they even know he’s not a real dog. I sincerely hope they aren’t waiting for him to finally “wake” up and start kissing their faces. 

One of my top achieving students came up to me, quietly, and asked, “Ms. P., does Messy just sleep all day?” 

I didn’t want to kill the magic so, I said, “Maybe he is the first ever nocturnal Bull Dog? No, not really. Also, puppies are like babies, they need a lot of sleep.” She has a baby sister, so she seemed satisfied with the answer. 

Then, then, I overheard one of my students lament to another student, “Messy is way lazier than my dog at home. I wonder when he will want to play?” 

WHAT THE? 

One more…one of the teacher’s students next door came up to her yesterday, and said, “Ms. S., did you know Ms. P has a dog in her room?! Do you think I should go remind her to feed it?” 

Someone please tell me my students know that an immobile-stuck-in-the-same-position-CERAMIC dog is fake. 

Please tell me they are just consciously participating in the make believe that innocent children’s lives revolve around, because if I have to have the tough conversation that Messy is not alive, it will be the first of its kind. 

They absolutely adore him. They race each other to get to the carpet first, so they can sit by him. They sit with him in their laps, happily stroking his “fur”. They asked me what he was going to be for Halloween. 

I am confident that my students are playing make believe. This makes me so happy, because in a world where children grow up too fast, where 1st graders are dropping the “F” bomb, and where 8 year-olds have cellphones, Messy makes me believe there is hope. For now, my students are still children, with innocent imaginations, and that makes me so happy. 

This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

I’ve had my new-to-me car for less than a month and it’s already been been violated in a most horrific way. 

The other morning, after a stress-filled drive to school, whereby I agonized over where best to park, I sat trying to calm my nerves. Actually every morning that I get to school, I just sit for awhile, pondering life (ie: checking all of my social media, promising myself I’ll get out after just one more song, and savoring my coffee-my life blood). 

I feel, before I go on, I should explain why I spent my entire drive agonizing over where to park. Simply put, I work in da hood. It’s not all bad. Just like nice neighborhoods aren’t all good. However, I’ve heard one too many stories about teacher’s cars being keyed, shootings, and our school has already been vandalized and broken into-numerous times. 

I love my school, my students, and our community, but it’s not exactly Mayberry. Not even close. 

Well, there I sat, watching a video on how to make hash brown egg cups on Facebook, and my car starts shaking. Like serious, “don’t come a’knocking shaking”. It’s not every day that you get your own personal earthquake or theme park ride, so it took a minute to get my bearings. When I realize my new car, with me in it, isn’t about to be swallowed by a sink hole, I look into my rearview mirror to see a head-barely visible over my back end. 

I get out and see some kid shaking my car. He’s literally bumping up against it like a remote control car stuck in a corner. I’m so pissed, all I say is, “GET OUTTA HERE” *insert Brooklyn accent*. This hoodlum didn’t realize the car was inhabited, so I’m sure he was shitting his pants as he ran out of sight. 

After telling this story to numerous people-fellow colleagues, my boyfriend, my family-they all had the same questions for me, “Why didn’t you question him, demand his name, drag him to the office?”

Let me just list the reasons why: 

  1. It was 7:00 AM-our office was empty
  2. He was a middle school kid-not under my/our particular authority
  3. I am scared of retaliation 

This misguided young man was likely trying to make my car alarm go off, to what end-it could be various reasons. Maybe he just thought it would be fun. Maybe he looks for cars that aren’t alarmed for someone who steals them. Maybe he simply has no regard or respect for others and their belongings. Actually, that last hypothesis would apply to all possible reasons he felt the need to molest my car. 

I would be laughing about this (the look on his face was pretty awesome), but I’m actually fearful that my new car will be damaged while parked at my place of employment. That’s a pretty shitty feeling.

In fact, everyday I notice possible new scratches and dings. I can’t blame them all on immoral creeps, as its definitely possible they were there before I bought the car. I didn’t inspect every inch of it with a magnifying glass, but I did look for noticeable imperfections. I’m 99% sure this was not present upon buying my car 

  
We live in a world where so few people have respect for others. It’s my fear that good, moral, thoughtful people will soon be extinct. 

Kids can be shits, I get it. I once stuck a thumbtack in my preschool teacher’s bum, simply because it was right in my face as she bent over, I was rolling a tack between my thumb and pointer finger, and I was a scientist-I wanted to know what would happen (BIG trouble, is what happened). 

While I’ve been guilty of my fair share of wrong-doing, I can confidently say I’ve never had the urge to damage someone else’s property. Never. Not once. 

Instead of be pissed/upset/stressed about this disgusting lack of regard for MY property, I am going to simply regard my car as a useful mode of transportation that gets me from point A to point B. Instead of daydreaming about how pretty she is, I’ll instead remember what is really important in life: my family, my friends, my health, and my strong morals and values. Also, a car is simply a material object that I am lucky to have. Some people don’t even own shoes. First world problems, and all that. 

While I suffer the results of lack of guidance and respect, I will continue to guide and teach respect to my students, because what else can I do? I am honored to be in the position where I have the possibility to change someone’s life for the better, every single day. Key my car, go for it. I’ll just be over here continuing to teach your children to do better, be better. Win. 

OH MY

We all know kids say the darnedest things. I mean, they made a show simply on the premise that some kid was guaranteed to say something genius. You also know kids say some pretty ridiculous things if you have a kid, have internet access, or you live on this planet. 

Not only do kids say some hilarious shit, they also write and draw some interesting things. The collection I have of laugh-out-loud worthy masterpieces is immense. 

What makes kids so funny is their blatant honesty about their observations, how seriously they take serious topics, and their innocence. It isn’t funny if a grown man draws a pair of DDD’s on a picture of their mom, but when a kid does it, they are just being accurate (or not…in that case, I can’t help you). Their honesty and innocence makes their art HILARIOUS. Hilarious. 

Let me just put this here for you:

  
  
You are free to come to your own conclusions about what you think this child drew. What I saw, what made me spew my mouthful of coffee all over my desk was, well, a TALLYWHACKER and some DINGLEBERRIES. I couldn’t even. 

  
These are apples on pants.

  
This child obviously thought apples on pants was a ridiculous notion and changed ‘pants’ to ‘plants’. That is a MUCH safer scenario. 

If you don’t find humor in these things, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry in your vodka, and no one wants that. 

Children are Amusing

I thought I would get in a quick blog post, and I knew I had some pretty good material courtesy of my hilarious 3rd graders. The beauty of children is that they are funny, without having to try to be funny. They are at their most amusing when they are not even trying to be funny or cute, usually when they are being innocently, adorably, dead serious. These are actual lines said/written by very serious 3rd graders who mean business:

Teacher, my hair smells like mustard.

I am late because I had to poop.

It wasn’t me, I take farts outside.

I can’t move right now, I am like a turtle on it’s back.

Maybe he wrote different perspectives because the narrator wanted to, so the author said ‘yes’?

God is #1, you are #2.

You will achieve all your dreams and eat s’mores.

Just a few Wednesday funnies for my readers. Enjoy.