My mom keeps saying I should have a Crazy Sub Stories Blog
and I do actually have a blog! So.
Today I'd signed on for a teacher whose position just said "TUTOR." On the official school website, his page said....fuck all, because he hasn't filled it out. I know because it says Mr. Example Teacher at the top instead of his name.
Turns out, Tutor is a fancy word for School Disciplinarian. Hahahahaha.
Luckily a) it's middle school and b) my class room is the punishment. Boredom. Sheer unadulterated boredom. Or, I'm assuming boredom was the punishment because in his HAND WRITTEN NOTES he said nothing about what I was supposed to do with the kids who were sent there. Other than help them count ceiling tiles and dust mites, I guess.
Also, every time I had to ask the front office to clarify his notes, or what to do about them, they sent me to find people. By name. I'll give you an example.
Me: Hi, yes, do you know what this note means.
Her: Hmmm. Oh, yes, it says, "Lead Up Discharge." *tries to hand the note back*
Me: No, I know what it says, thanks, but I don't know what it means.
Her: Oh. ...Well. Ask Pam.
Me: *eyebrows* Pam?
Her: Yes, Pam. She'll help you out.
Me: Okay, and Pam is...?
Her: Around. She'll be around.
Me: ...what does Pam...look like?
Her: Oh, or you could ask Jerry.
Me: ....*EYEBROWS*
THIS HAPPENED SO MANY TIMES TODAY WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND THAT I DON'T KNOW ANYONE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN IN THIS BUILDING SIX TIMES AND I HAVE NO CONTACT WITH ANYONE OTHER THAN THE KIDS AND THE LADY WHO GIVES ME A KEY
*deep breath* and I will be back there tomorrow because the choir teacher wandered up to me and said heyyyy didn't you sub for me and i was like yes and he was like awesome because i feel sick.
(oh and one grown woman came up to me and said, all accusingly, "You don't look a thing like Mr. [Example Teacher]," and I told her, "That's probably for the best.")
Today I'd signed on for a teacher whose position just said "TUTOR." On the official school website, his page said....fuck all, because he hasn't filled it out. I know because it says Mr. Example Teacher at the top instead of his name.
Turns out, Tutor is a fancy word for School Disciplinarian. Hahahahaha.
Luckily a) it's middle school and b) my class room is the punishment. Boredom. Sheer unadulterated boredom. Or, I'm assuming boredom was the punishment because in his HAND WRITTEN NOTES he said nothing about what I was supposed to do with the kids who were sent there. Other than help them count ceiling tiles and dust mites, I guess.
Also, every time I had to ask the front office to clarify his notes, or what to do about them, they sent me to find people. By name. I'll give you an example.
Me: Hi, yes, do you know what this note means.
Her: Hmmm. Oh, yes, it says, "Lead Up Discharge." *tries to hand the note back*
Me: No, I know what it says, thanks, but I don't know what it means.
Her: Oh. ...Well. Ask Pam.
Me: *eyebrows* Pam?
Her: Yes, Pam. She'll help you out.
Me: Okay, and Pam is...?
Her: Around. She'll be around.
Me: ...what does Pam...look like?
Her: Oh, or you could ask Jerry.
Me: ....*EYEBROWS*
THIS HAPPENED SO MANY TIMES TODAY WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND THAT I DON'T KNOW ANYONE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN IN THIS BUILDING SIX TIMES AND I HAVE NO CONTACT WITH ANYONE OTHER THAN THE KIDS AND THE LADY WHO GIVES ME A KEY
*deep breath* and I will be back there tomorrow because the choir teacher wandered up to me and said heyyyy didn't you sub for me and i was like yes and he was like awesome because i feel sick.
(oh and one grown woman came up to me and said, all accusingly, "You don't look a thing like Mr. [Example Teacher]," and I told her, "That's probably for the best.")