I'm Not a Morning Person People

I am not a morning person.

I am not a morning person.

I am not a morning person.

I AM NOT A FREAKING MORNING PERSON! HOW MANY TIMES MUST I REPEAT MYSELF BEFORE YOU GET IT?!?

No, I am not a morning person. Usually, this is the very first thing I announce to any class of students I teach before the hour of 9AM. My brain is incapable of functioning rationally before 9AM. It really does not matter how early I wake up, or how much coffee I consume, my brain refuses to think or work before 9AM. I have accepted this fact of my life and adapted my life accordingly. I do not schedule early morning meetings if I can avoid it. I start my morning off with the least stressful and strenuous activities I can manage. I drink gallons of coffee. I do yoga, meditation and breathing exercises. I do all of these things in a vain attempt to appear to be human. However, it is just an illusion. I am not a morning person.

I give my students fair warning from the beginning.  Do not approach me with inane comments or requests first thing in the morning. You will not receive a rational, or possibly even an intelligible answer. I can guarantee you will not like the manner in which said response is delivered.  And, in all likelihood, you will walk away from our verbal altercation either in tears, or seething with rage.  However, it never really seems to matter how many warnings I give, my precious, pubescent pupils never heed them.  At least once a week, one of the intrepid teens will accost me upon my arrival at school, insisting that I give them my undivided attention and bow to their demands.  Inevitably, said student leaves my presence wounded and hurt, figuratively speaking of course.  Well... mostly figuratively speaking.  What can I say?  I am not a morning person.

By the end of the school year, one would think that most of my students have learned not to disturb my morning rituals, either through direct, personal experience or the experiences of friends and classmates.  However, every year, I seem to get one student who is incapable of learning that particular lesson.  This year, that student is Carol.  (Obviously, "Carol" is not her real name.  As a matter of fact, Carol is as far removed from her real name as I could get.)  Carol just cannot seem to grasp the meaning of the words "I am not a morning person".

8:05AM - I take a deep breath, open the door, walk into the high school, and begin weaving my way through the throng of trash-talking teens in the hallway to my classroom.
8:07AM - Keys are in hand, I am mere seconds away from the blissful silence of my classroom, and then I hear it...

Ms. Teacher!  Ms. Teacher!  Ms. Teacher!

Me:  (FUCK!  Maybe if I do not turn around, it will go away. I walk faster.)

Ms. Teacher!  Ms. Teacher!  MS. TEACHER!!!

Me:  (Almost there...)

Carol:  OH!  Ms. Teacher!  I've been waiting for you since 7:30 this morning.

Me:  (FUCK!!!  Carol.  I was so close.) *sigh* Carol, I know I've told you this numerous times before, but I'll try it one more time.  I do not get to school before 8AM.  Ever. 

Carol:  Oh, yeah, I know, but this is important!  And I emailed you, and posted a question on the online forum for the class last night.  I even left a message on your voice mail.

Me:  takes a deep breath.  I replied to your email last night, and to the same question you posted on the discussion forum 2 hours later.  Obviously, I have not gotten your voice mail message, as I have yet to walk into the classroom.  But, do you ask the same question in your voice mail?  The same question you posted and emailed me about, that I have already answered?
 
Carol:  Yeah.  So, anyway, the homework that you assigned, that is due today, do we have to write complete sentences?  Or can we just, like, write the answer?

Me:  sigh  Carol, just like I said in the email, and on the online forum, and in class the day I assigned the homework, and for every other homework assignment like this one,... You must write the answer in complete sentences.  Turns toward the door, dismissing the conversation.

Carol:  But... why?

Me:  Stops in mid-step, halfway through the doorway.  Excuse me?

Carol:  Why?  Why do we have to write a complete sentence?  Why can't we just write the answer?

Me:  Carol, the two are not mutually exclusive.  And, as I have explained to you before, I require a complete sentence because I am also tasked with teaching you how to write.  I want to make sure that you know what a complete sentence looks like, that you practice it.  Also, you are a 17 year old honors student in my 11th grade English class.  This should be a non-issue by now.  Turns away and proceeds to, finally, enter the classroom, now feeling irritated and disgusted.

Carol:  But... I just don't think you are understanding what I am asking.  Let me try it this way... As long I put down the answer on the paper, does it have to be a complete sentence?

Me:  Thoroughly disgusted.  Let me try it this way... Your answer will be worded in a complete sentence.

Carol:  But...

Me:  Oh good grief, Carol!  I do not know how else to explain it so you will understand it.  Do you not understand the words I am saying to you?

Carol: It's not that, I just...

Me:  YES or NO?  Do you understand the words I am speaking?

Carol:  Yes, but...

Me: holding up hand  Yes?  Okay, good.  So, you understand that your homework should be answered in complete sentences?  Yes?

Carol:  Well, yeah, but...

Me:  holds up hand again  Yes?  Okay.  Glad that is settled.  Please close the door as you leave.

Carol:  But... that's not the answer I want.

Me:  stops dead in tracks, glances back over one shoulder  Well, I apologize for that, but that is the answer you got.

Carol:  I don't want to write a sentence!  stamps foot

Me:  Did you really just stamp your foot at me?  cue hysterical laughter

Carol:  stamps foot again  Don't laugh at me!  I'm serious!  I DON'T WANT TO WRITE A SENTENCE!

Me:  wiping tears from eyes  That is a shame, since the assignment requires it.

Carol:  Well, I'm just not going to write a sentence.

Me:  sits on corner of desk, sips coffee, and drawls out Well, sugar, that is your choice. (It should be noted that when I lapse into a Southern drawl in class, bad things are soon to follow.  For some reason, I tend to use a Southern accent to chastise my students.)

Carol:  mollified  Oh, so I don't have to write a sentence?  Whew!  Thanks!  Turns to leave.

Me:  No, darlin', I said it was your choice.

Carol:  What does that mean?

Me:  in a Southern drawl and with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes  The directions require a sentence.  If you choose to not write a sentence, you have not followed the directions, and therefore have not correctly completed the assignment.  As such, I will be forced to deduct the necessary points, as you failed to accurately complete the assignment.  So, we are back to it being your choice.  You can choose to do the assignment correctly and completely, or you can choose to half-ass the assignment.  Either way, your grade will reflect accuracy, completeness, and effort.  The choice is ultimately yours, as it always is.  Sips coffee

Carol:  But, but... stamps foot, AGAIN THAT'S NOT FAIR!

Me:  drawls  The fair only comes to town once a year, princess, and it looks like you missed it.

Carol:  But...

Me:  NO!  Let me tell you what isn't "fair".  It isn't "fair" that for some unknown reason you seem to think that rules do not apply to you, that you do not have to do the same work, put forth the same effort as your classmates, or follow the same directions.  You are not special.  You are not above the law.  You do not get to do what you want simply because you don't feel like doing what is required.  It isn't "fair" I am forced to have the exact same conversation with you week in and week out.  It isn't "fair" that I am forced to endure the spoiled antics of a pampered princess who refuses to listen to anything that is said to her if she does not want to hear it.  It isn't "fair" that my morning is ruined at least once every couple of weeks because you decide you do not see the merit in completing an assignment, and want my permission to not do it.  It isn't "fair" that I am forced to tolerate your presence before school even starts because you want to question and debate every single assignment and direction given to you.  Let me enlighten you, sweetheart.  I'm the teacher.  You are the student.  That is how things work.  I create meaningful assignments that usually serve multiple purposes to try not only to educate you, but also to mold you into some semblance of a decent human being.  Granted, at least on that front, in your case, I seem to be failing miserably.  But, I am going to continue to try.  I will give the assignments and directions, and you will follow them.  Or not.  The choice is ultimate yours.  But, I guarantee that if you fail to meet the requirements, follow the directions, put forth the effort, or live up to my expectations, your grade will reflect your failure.  And trust me, it will be YOUR failure.  You can suck it up, accept life as it is, and pass the class on my terms, or you can be stubborn and obtuse, continue to rail at the wind about how "unfair" life is, and fail on your terms.  Choice. Is. Yours.  Now, I am done with this conversation.  For. The. Last. Time.  Get your things, turn around, and walk out the door.

Carol:  Stamps foot But...

Me:  Stamp that foot at me again.... 

Carol:  does not stamp foot, grabs belongings, begins walking out the door But... UGH!  This is SO NOT FAIR!

Me: can't resist, yells after student  Ah, sugar, maybe you'll catch the fair the next time it is in town! 

As I close the door behind her, I can hear her ranting her way down the hallway.  I sigh, turn back to me desk, shake my head, and repeat... I am so not a morning person.

Big Brother Is Watching...

Once upon a time... I used to try to teach George Orwell's novel 1984 to my honors level 9th grade English students.  I always had the hardest time getting them to understand some of the basic elements and themes of the novel.  As they often lamented, they just didn't "get it".  Eventually, as the curriculum changed, I found other novels and pieces of literature to teach, and 1984 was put back on the shelf.  On occasion, however, I would revisit the novel and try to figure out how I could make the story relevant to my students, so they would "get it" when I next decided to teach it.  In actuality, it wasn't that my students just didn't "get it".  They couldn't imagine it.  And, I couldn't paint them a picture because I didn't "get it"; it was not relevant to me.  Until I could find a way to truly understand the dystopian universe crafted by Orwell, there was no way I would ever be able to get my students to understand it.  As it turns out, I did not need to wrack my brain.  All I had to do was wait for the world to catch up to Orwell.

Enter the USA PATRIOT Act of 2001, ethnic and racial profiling, threatened government shut downs, a tanking national and global economy, restrictive union laws, an eerily long series of natural disasters, rising oil and gas prices, multiple foreign "wars", and the increasing popularity of Facebook and Twitter.  Welcome to the new dystopian world.  Perhaps Orwell would have done better to title his novel 2011.

Today we have government sanctioned phone taps.  Any law enforcement agency can pull up a person's phone, email, financial, and personal information at a whim.  The government can also 'monitor' your personal email for keywords and phrases.  Is it just me, or has this all gotten a little out of hand?

Take for instance the recent string of news stories involving teachers and students.

1.  A teacher gets fired for a comment she post on her Facebook page regarding the intelligence of her students.  No names were used.  Just a person venting a frustration.  She gets canned for it.  A personal comment made to friends and family about a crappy day at work.

2.  A school district is under fire for inappropriately monitoring students, and teachers, via district issued laptops.  Some person in the technology department for the school system (most likely under direct orders from upper level administration) logs on remotely to a laptop issued to a student.  The tech person witnesses (allegedly) an illegal act and use of drugs.  The student is disciplined by the school.  The parents and community are enraged.  And rightfully so.  Invasion of privacy?  Most definitely.  Tell me, how many times before has that school system remotely logged onto a teacher or student's computer.  What else did they see?

3.  A teacher gets fired for a tirade she posts on her personal blog.  Again, a teacher frustrated with her day, week, year, school system, political maneuvering, and the grow apathy of students and parents, vents to family and friends via a personal web page.  Someone else sees it.  A parent, most likely, or administrator is outraged.  The teacher is fired.

Now, please, I ask you.  How many of you have ever left work after a stressful and trying day and said unkind, mean, derogatory, or insulting things about your boss, your employees, or place of employment?  Yes, that is what I thought.  Every one does it.  Even people who love their jobs have bad days and say mean things on occasion.  So, answer me this, why would you think it would be any different for teachers?  Why does the entire world think teachers have no life outside of the school?  Why are teachers not allowed to voice their frustrations?  It is not like the teachers began verbally berating and abusing their students in class.  They vented to an outside source to attempt to dispel the frustration and not take it back to the classroom.  How is that wrong?  Why are teachers not allowed to be human?

I currently refuse to reside in the same city in which I teach.  My reasoning? The last thing I want when I leave work is to run into students or their parents at the mall, a restaurant, or the gas station.  Why?  Because they ALWAYS feel the need to approach me and interrogate me.  Don't believe me?

1.  First year teaching, my husband took me out to dinner one Friday night for my birthday.  In the middle of my meal, an adult approached me and asked, "Are you Mrs. So-and-so?  At Such-and-such High School?  I'm Fill-in-the-blank's mom."  I smiled and nodded, and acknowledged the woman.  Before any thing else could be said, she sat down at our table and began grilling me about a recent assignment I have given my class.  Half way through her questioning she states, "I hope I'm not interrupting your meal, but..." And continued on with what she wanted to know.  After approximately 10 minutes, when I had answered her questions as best I could, I suggested she call me at school the following Monday, when I would be better prepared to answer her questions, or she could schedule a conference and come in to the school.  At that point, she reacted as if I had insulted her, replying, "Well, I was trying to avoid having to do all of that.  You can't just explain it to me here, now?"  Is that how other professions work?  Do you interrogate your physician on the golf links about an upcoming surgery?  Do you corner your CPA at the grocery store asking about your taxes?  Do you pester your attorney at the local YMCA about a court case?  No!  You call these people, these professionals, at their respective offices, make appointments.  Why would it be any different for a teacher?

2.  My second year of teaching I went to the local mall early in the spring to shop for a bathing suit.  Now, I am a female, so this is never a pleasant experience.  Even women with perfect bodies experience anxiety over shopping for and selecting a swimsuit.  Well, I am definitely less than perfect, making swimsuit shopping doubly traumatic.  Anyway, I went to a local mall to purchase the least offensive suit I could find.  I selected a few options, and proceeded into the fitting room.  Upon exit my fitting room to look in the mirror, I was accosted by a parent of a Journalism student.  The parent was upset about an article her child had published in the school paper, and was demanding that I explain myself and reasoning to her.  So, there I stood, in an ill-fitting bathing suit, with an angry woman blocking the door to my fitting room, demanding that I explain how I had allowed her daughter write an article and publish it in the school paper.  (I want to add at this point, that this is the same article I sent home for her parents approval.  The same article that came back with a parent's signature and a rather terse note asking why the parents were being asked to "edit" the article.  After all, wasn't that my job?)  I attempted to politely extract myself from the situation, but the parent would have none of that, still refusing to allow me entrance to my fitting room.  The entire situation ended with store employees having to intervene.  Several days later, the parent showed up at school for a parent conference.  When I showed her the paper with her signature and snarky letter granting me permission to use and publish the article, all I received from the woman was an "Oh" before she left.  No apology for her rudeness or impertinence.

There's never an apology, by the way.  I have been witness to many parent conferences over my career where parents come into the school building yelling, and screaming, and cursing out the entire school.  Even when they are proven wrong in their assumptions or false conclusions (or discover that their precious child lied outright to them), there is never an, "I'm sorry."  It is always the same.  "Oh."

Yes, in today's world, we are getting closer and closer to Orwell's dystopian universe.  Emails, phone calls, websites, and blogs are all monitored.  People are being punished, disciplined and fired for making disparaging remarks about their employers.  The government is attempting in control everything.  Professionals are having to spend more and more time justifying decisions and choices than actually working.  Everything is being scrutinized.  Every decision is examined by a multitude of people.  Every person is placed under a microscope.

Now, while I agree that there should, naturally, be some measure of checks and balances in place.  Not all teachers good.  Not all government decisions are bad.  But, there needs to be some level of common sense injected into every situation.  Where has our common sense gone?  If people do not find it, and start using it, we are all really going to see firsthand, George Orwell's vision of the future.

Remember, Big Brother is Watching...

So What If I Don't Have A Penis?

"So what if I don't have a penis?!?!" the boy shouted across the room. The rest of the class immediately bursts into hysterical laughter. The teacher, who was expecting it, dissolved into a fit of giggles. The young man smiles proudly, and receives high praise from the whole class and the teacher for his excellent delivery.

Oh, and I suppose I should mention that this is not a fictional anecdote. Nope, not at all. This was the scene in my classroom about an hour ago. And, I must admit, I am immensely impressed with that student. Actually, I am impressed with most all of my students today.

Today was the culmination of two weeks worth of studying, analyzing, and reading drama in my summer school classroom. Today, the students got a chance to showcase their acting abilities, and their creativity.  Students broke into small groups to perform their version of David Ives' one-act play, "Sure Thing".  I am not sure which I found more impressive today: my group of all girls who performed a modernized version of the play complete with "grills" or my three groups of all boys who actually embraced playing the role of the "girl".  One thing I can say for certain, the class enjoyed the activity.  And that, I will gladly count as a success.

Oh, and it was pretty entertaining to hear all of them proudly shout across the room my favorite line from the play, "So what if I don't have a penis?"  ;)

Avoiding the Insanity Defense

Just as the title suggests, this blog is an experiment to see if I can successfully avoid having to make an insanity plea in a court of law. I am dreadfully afraid that if I do not find a healthy outlet for much of the frustration, anger, and aggression I experience throughout the school year, I will end up facing a jury of my peers from the defendant's chair one day.

A jury of my peers... That is a truly interesting concept, isn't it? I mean, seriously, if I were to actually commit a crime and face a TRUE jury of my peers, I would be acquitted. If ANY person were to ever be tried in front a true jury of their peers, they would all be acquitted. Think about it. If the jury for Charles Manson were made up of 12 cult-leading serial killers, would they have sentenced him to death? Probably not. If my jury were made up of veteran public high school English teachers, I am equally positive that I would be acquitted. Hell, I'm positive I'd be given a parade, and maybe my own national holiday. Well, if a jury of my peers were consulted anyway.

But, I digress, as I often have a tendency to do, thanks to my chosen profession. Anyway, this blog is my attempt to find a way to unburden myself with the negativity I tend to gather as a public high school teacher. The last couple of years have been tough on public educators. The failing economy, change in national administration, and rise in popularity of reality television have all led to a steady decline in the emphasis placed on receiving a proper education. As a result, my job just keeps getting harder and harder, and my audience of students less and less receptive.

It gets frustrating trying to explain repeatedly to my students why writing "B4 u go, I's wonton yous to no y he be hatin" is not appropriate for English class. More specifically, I need them to understand that is not appropriate for a formal literary analysis of William Shakespeare's tragedy, "Macbeth".

Also, while I do love my colleagues, and find support and encouragement within our circle, I can only vent to and with them to a certain point. In recent months, I have found that I need to vent to people who do not KNOW exactly why I am venting. Venting to my close circle of friends and confidants generally tends to end up only increasing my already astronomically high level of pessimism and disenchantment. Plus, I don't want to always discuss negative work-related garbage with my friends. I want to be able to have, and maintain, a positive outlook, as I do truly love what I do. I cannot imagine doing anything else. But, it seems of late the only thing that spews forth from our mouths is negative. And, as we all know, negativity only begats more negativity.

So, hence, this blog. This is my outlet for all the insanity I am forced to cope with, treat, and overcome on a daily basis. I welcome comments, observations, commiserations, and criticisms. Just please, remember you are talking to a frazzled English teacher.