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So, today I'm in my fifth bell class, finishing up some SOL prep information, giving the kids their altered schedule for testing, and generally covering my ass. Every fifteen seconds, one of my little whizzers asks,"When are we getting our progress reports?" "Check the board." I reply. "After I'm done with this stuff. It's on our agenda, see?" Not good enough. He knows his letter grade, because it's on the overall PR from the office, which he got in Bell 1, but he wants details from me about his horrible performance. If he thought real hard for five seconds, he'd know why his grade stinks: he does one of every ten HW assignments, doodles his way through class, and doesn't bother putting his name on the stuff he does turn in. His grade has been horrid all year, and he's heard the same reasons over and over. He doesn't need me to say it all again. Finally, despite constant interruption, I get to pass out the information he's so intent upon. Same old comments from me, mostly "Do your homework!" As he's leaving, he fumes at me. "If you hadn't spent all that time telling us all that dumb crap, I would have gotten this sooner!" "Obviously."I reply."But why is vital information from me 'dumb crap'?" "Everything you say is crap!" This is the part where the temperature in the room drops fifty degrees, and my eyes narrow dangerously. "Sit." "I'll be late!" "Too bad. You caused this problem, you know." "I did not!" "You interrupted me nine times. You probably added a good ten minutes to a five-minute set of information. If you'd listened to me, you'd have gotten your PR sooner. You didn't need it to know why you're failing, anyway. The reasons haven't changed all year." "So, why am I failing?" he mutters resentfully. "Because you think everything I say is crap. When you start actually listening to me respectfully, you might think otherwise." He still didn't get it. I'm annoyed, because NOTHING I said today was crap! It was all sincere, well-intentioned, good advice. Sometimes I don't know why I bother. My chuckle for the day: one of my bosses downtown sent a letter to all the eighth graders in the school system, referring to "pubic school." One of my kids showed it to me, quite flustered. I e-mailed the bossy lady about it. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to be associated with these PhDs, I tell ya. Guess I'll take Fin's excellent advice, and focus on important things. Where is that Samurai? He needs a good snoggin'. |
 
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Crappity crap!