Yes, I know about the mis spelling. I just finished proof reading the next American Aviation Historical Society Newsletter so I’m compensating.
CHEESES wotta week!
No substitute teaching last week, second week in a row. Sunday I made my mind up. If the sub teacher line didn’t call by Monday morning, I would boogie — the victim of the booger, I’m told — over to the state unemployment orifice and look for knocking opportunities there. And I meant it, yesidid.
Lady luq intended differently. A call came at 7:10 and by 7:45 I was ensconced in a middle school language arts room. Lesson plans were superbly written, and the day went okay. Some of the students recognized me from previous encounters . . . . . but they came to class anyway. The only real bummer of the day came when I decided to “reward” the exceptionally well-behaved third block with news about Vachel Lindsay’s birthday party coming up November 10, 11 – 4 at the Vachel Lindsay Home State Historic Site and recite a Vachel poem or two. That’s when the class went to hades in a hand basket. They had misunderstood me. They apparently thought I had said “For the next 10 minutes I am going to pull out your fingernails with a rusty pliers my Labradors peed on all weekend.” and that made them forget I was reciting a poem to them. Actually, through the din of their inconsiderate yammering, I assaulted them with “The Little Turtle,” “The Broncho that Would Not Be Broken,” and “The Sun Says His Prayers.” As a result I didn’t write the report about the class I had intended to write. Of course I had persevered through the reciting, despite their noise. They were not going to “break me of reciting,” and the three girls who did pay attention — at least provided eye contact — were worth my effort. Bummer, man! Just a frikking bummer. It actually seemed to bother some of them that I wrote the birthday party info on the blackboard in the front of the room. They could not interrupt or OUT-JABBER talc on black; maybe it was green; I don’t remember.
I learned that the new “moment of silence” installed by the Christianist jehadist Illinois Generl Ass Embly comes to students during morning announcements when a pearl of philsophical wisdom is shared, the way a humiliated coach might recall a lesson taught by his doddering grandfather, during a throwaway game half-time break. We had less than thirty seconds to ponder that thought. During the Pledge of Undying Servitude (until they kill you) no one in the office, riding the PA microphone led the pledge! That was a first. In the past, I’ve never initiated the pledge when the broadcast image of a flag fills the television screen. We’ve all waited for the announcer to say it aloud, and by the fourth or fifth word, the rest of us have joined in. By the time I realized no one was GOING to lead us aloud, the image of the flag disappeared — after nearly eternal seconds of student murmuring — and the rest of the day began.
Something else that’s new: Bully Forms which students can request from a teacher when they feel another peer student has been a bully. This is how we avoid Columbine 186, I guess. I was amazed. No need to describe them; your intuition is as good as the black & white of the document. I’m not against the form; I just wish sub teachers had something similar to use. Of course we do. They are called student referrals, and we can write up anyone who’s REALLY a problem and dismiss him or her from the class room. Sometimes, though, I just wish I could pull out some fingernails with pliers my Labradors had peed on all weekend —- JUST KIDDING. If you must quote the first part of the sentence, you dang well better quote the second part too; aye?
I’m back to the one a day nutrition plan. I don’t mean vitamins; I mean meals. I mean Ramen noodles at 7:00 p. Thank God I still have some candy left. I’ve been savoring one piece after “meal” for the past four days and have enogh candy and noodles to get me to :rent check arrives time.” It ain’t easy, but it’s better than it could be.
I stopped by the District 186 office and asked about full-time employment possibilities while handing out my Vachel Pages business card to the two fine women who talked to me about my “plight of the living dead.” I learned during our pleasant conversation that it’s been a slow few weeks for sub teachers. Very few have been engaged. The ladies gave me the District web site address and told me where to look for job vacancy postings. I’ve visited, looked and bookmarked the jobs page. They need mostly LPNs, a Clerk IV, substitute clerical help for $10 an hour and no benefits . . . . . . not a single listing for a resident poet/folksinger notaONE! Yes, I did say I’d be interested in doing almost anything for District 186, that they could not ask for a better cheer leader for the system, even though I absolutely refuse to wear those short short dresses. — Just kidding! I will if they’ll hire me.
Live long-skirted . . . . and proper.