That's going to be the title track on the Nu Teacherz Christmas album, Ring This, Jackass.
o, holy weekend, the freedom warmly beckons!
it is the time when we do get some rest
long lay asleep in your warm and cozy bedroom
til you feel like you're at last fully rested
fall in your bed
o dream, the night is long
for time is briefly yours
to cherish without toil
o sleep divine!
It is Friday. I have gotten through the week. It seems like a long one; thinking back to Monday evokes fuzzy, cobwebby feelings, like, huh? When? What?
All I did was the assessment test today.
Class A was fairly chatty to begin the day. It didn't help that I made sure to get the tests, even though they weren't stapled together. It took a long time to pass out all the pages, have the kids sort them, check for missing ones or doubles, staple them, pass out scantrons, lend out pencils...argh. They did finally get to work though, even the attitude problem kid.
Class B wouldn't shut the hell up, and they have a single period, so they literally had six minutes to do (start) their test. Ha.
Class C went the fastest, because I'd done my spiel twice and I apparently reined in their chattiness enough to keep things moving.
I have a sixth-period prep on Fridays, and Class C is in there with the social studies teacher. Then I get to come in, and they're all riled up and the room is a mess. Today was extra special.
Someone (I'm pretty sure it's R, the class asshole) used and broke the pencil sharpener on my desk, and also spilled my thing of hot chocolate. So it spilled all over my desk, staining a bunch of papers strewn about. Not only that, but my anecdote book had been stolen.
Let me talk about that for a sec. On the Friday before break, my anecdote book disappeared between fifth and seventh periods. I looked around my desk and places I walk and talk, and checked in the teacher center, to no avail. I freaked out a little bit, because it's got the whole year of incidents, plus phone numbers and all sorts of important things.
The other day, I bought a new composition book to use for an anecdote book, and decorated it with color sharpies and stickers and stuff. All pretty and new and empty, pink front cover and blue back cover. Nice! Gotta have something to write in.
Well, yesterday or the day before, I was walking around the room during Class B, with the pink book, and a girl said, "Oh, Ms C, I found your book." I was like, "Oh yeah? Which one?" I thought she meant one of the reading books that kids have lost here and there. She goes, "Your first one, like that," meaning my other anecdote book. I was all casual-like, "Oh? Where'd you see it?" trying not to freak out, because holy shit did I want that book back. And she leads me over to the radiator/bookshelf and pulls it out from behind a pile of stuff, all "Here it is." I said, "Hey, thank you! I'm glad you found this!" doing my best not to gush and overreact, thus letting on how fucking important that book is.
So today I knew that I had had my pink book in the classroom fifth period. And I knew that sixth period, Class C was in my room. So I joined them seventh and couldn't find my pink book. I checked around my desk, and glimpsed casually into student desks as they were working, looked a little bit at the trash and recycle bins, but nothing, no pink book. I thought about announcing that it was gone and get kids to find it, but I didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing even a hint of desperation in my voice. Finally, I went over to the radiator and peered behind that same pile of stuff, and lo and behold, there was my pink fucking book. The first page was halfway torn, and the second was partly ripped too.
It was all I could do to refrain from hitting somebody, honestly. To have my personal goddamn property stolen by some punk kid, out of my own fucking classroom, TWICE, is just too goddamn much. Screw the assumption, I know exactly who it is. R came up to me as I was writing in that pink book during their test. I'd taken his away because he wasn't even pretending to work. Ironically, he was writing a letter of complaint to the dean. Can you imagine? This is the child that does no work whatsoever in class. No homework since mid-first-quarter. He throws things. He stomps out of the room without permission whenever he feels like it. He yells at anyone that dares contradict him or say something he doesn't like. He's rude and disruptive beyond belief. He's writing a complaint. That is just plain funny!
Anyway, he comes up and was like, all whiny, "you can't write us up, you don't know who did it. I didn't do nothin' to your desk. You can't write me up." I said to him, quietly and gently, "R, the
key phrase there is didn't do anything. You haven't done anything at all. Ever. What kind of grade do you think you will get?" Whiny, not looking me in the face, "I don't care. I don't care. You can't write us up. You didn't see who did anything." Me: "R, you're not answering the question. What kind of grade do you think you're getting right now?" R, whiny, still not looking at me: "I don't care! You're not answering my question. I don't care." etc etc
I swear, it was all I could do not to slap him across the face, yell "fuck you, asshole kid, don't EVER set foot in this room again, with me or without me," then physically shove him out the door.
People, I am not a violent person. I would never touch someone in anger. Even these bratty, attitude kids don't inspire violence in me. But I've had it with this kid. Seriously, I want to demand that he not be allowed in my classroom, period.
It is extremely late right now. I was feeling all melancholy, and now there's a spark of anger, frustration, irritation trying to meddle with the melancholy. Writing that earlier post, my music had been frustrating me. I usually listen to the tracks in alphabetical order by title; that way it's an interesting, eclectic, non-repeating 'mix.' Tonight the "I" and "J" sections of my songs just really sucked. Really not the right moodsetter for my wannabe-depressed self. So I put on Nirvana's MTV Unplugged album, and ooh, is it awesome. Great sound and tone, I love it so.
O sweet bed, calling my name!