Monday, December 22, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
...and everything was fine
It was the start of a frigid, icy day. It seems as though all the air had frozen in the middle of the night and was deposited on my fair city.
Of course, I was running late. Not to mention I had fallen asleep at 9 the night prior meaning I had gotten absolutely no work done. I woke up, stumbled around a drafty house and ambled to work.
It started out as a typical chaotic run-around. I ran around making transparency agendas and bullshit worksheets. The ball started rolling and roll it did. I was run over by each and every class. Despite the fact that the most unruly kids weren't present, classes were still out of control. I spent several moments gazing out the window, eyes welling up in tears, yearning to break free.
The final class was a double period of the most disrespectful, rude, lazy kids. It seemed that their sole purpose in life was to drive me mad. Everything became some sort of negotiation. I clasped my hands on my head and prayed the clock would tick a little faster. I sent them out, forgoing a formal lining up procedure, my head spinning from the stench of 10-year olds and under-achievement.
I felt defeated.
And then a little boy from the second grade class came in.
"Hi Mr. Lim" and he wrapped his tiny arms around my torso.
And everything was fine.
Of course, I was running late. Not to mention I had fallen asleep at 9 the night prior meaning I had gotten absolutely no work done. I woke up, stumbled around a drafty house and ambled to work.
It started out as a typical chaotic run-around. I ran around making transparency agendas and bullshit worksheets. The ball started rolling and roll it did. I was run over by each and every class. Despite the fact that the most unruly kids weren't present, classes were still out of control. I spent several moments gazing out the window, eyes welling up in tears, yearning to break free.
The final class was a double period of the most disrespectful, rude, lazy kids. It seemed that their sole purpose in life was to drive me mad. Everything became some sort of negotiation. I clasped my hands on my head and prayed the clock would tick a little faster. I sent them out, forgoing a formal lining up procedure, my head spinning from the stench of 10-year olds and under-achievement.
I felt defeated.
And then a little boy from the second grade class came in.
"Hi Mr. Lim" and he wrapped his tiny arms around my torso.
And everything was fine.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I quit
Those two words run through my head every single minute of every single class. Would it be giving in? Of course. Would I be happier? Probably. Unfortunately there's also a little thing called fiscal responsibility which tugs at my lingering thoughts of freedom.
As little Javante was sashaying his little 4th grade 'tude all around the classroom, I thought to myself, this would be the perfect time to quit. But my resignation had to be dramatic. I couldn't just waste it on the little beasts in class. Who, then? My principal most likely wasn't going to be in her office and even then I really didn't want to rub it in her face -- she wasn't the reason for my unhappiness. What would be optimal is if I could scream, I quit to each and every class that has made my life a living hell for the past four months.
"Good morning class 311, I quit, have a great rest of your day"
"Good afternoon class 211, I quit, have a great evening"
No matter how it goes, though, I'd always want to do it better which, ultimately, might be why I'm not quitting. I would never be able to get it right and it will never live up to my expectations.
Besides, nothing would torture them more than having me show up to work every day.
As little Javante was sashaying his little 4th grade 'tude all around the classroom, I thought to myself, this would be the perfect time to quit. But my resignation had to be dramatic. I couldn't just waste it on the little beasts in class. Who, then? My principal most likely wasn't going to be in her office and even then I really didn't want to rub it in her face -- she wasn't the reason for my unhappiness. What would be optimal is if I could scream, I quit to each and every class that has made my life a living hell for the past four months.
"Good morning class 311, I quit, have a great rest of your day"
"Good afternoon class 211, I quit, have a great evening"
No matter how it goes, though, I'd always want to do it better which, ultimately, might be why I'm not quitting. I would never be able to get it right and it will never live up to my expectations.
Besides, nothing would torture them more than having me show up to work every day.
Monday, December 1, 2008
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