work, work, work...she'll NEVER get her dress done.
I am so tired of being treated like shit.
This year alone, I have had students go through my personal belongings, in the MIDDLE OF CLASS, because they felt like it. I had a kid steal my cell phone. I have had students knock over desks, get into fights with each other. TO MY FACE I have been called a bitch, a fag, and an asshole. I've been told TO MY FACE that I'm mean, stupid, that I can't speak Spanish. I have called parents, had meetings with parents, had meetings with administrators. I have given lunch detention and regular detention. I have made students write things like "I will not be late to class" 185 times in a row. I have written referrals and had heart-to-hearts. I have shouted at the top of my lungs, have muttered in my nastiest low voice. I have blacked out on the spot from being so livid. When they're not looking, I've put my head down and sobbed. I have been told off by 11 year olds. I have been told by them that I can't touch them, I can't do anything to them, I have no control over them, I can't tell them what to do. I have been told to go fuck myself.
None of these kids are old enough to obtain a learner's permit.
Last night, I dreamt that one of the "emotionally disturbed" kids at school came into my classroom and shot at me. In the dream, he missed, and hit one (or many; I had the dream a few times) of my students. I kept waking up almost in tears, giving CPR to my pillow. I spent my entire shower thinking about how this kid knows nothing about me, knows no boundaries, could really bring a gun to school. He's a sixth grader, and the latest individual to inform me that I have no control over him, that he doesn't care what I think, and that he's better than me. All of this was in a very loud voice in front of a large group of people. It wouldn't be so bad if this was the first time that's happened. It wouldn't even be so bad if it was the same kid three times. It still wouldn't even be so bad if it only happened to me because I'm young and they think they can get away with that shit with me. In reality, the U.S. as a nation is completely fucked. If these are the people that will be running the country in two decades, then I want a pistol and a bathtub.
When teaching is fun, it is the best job in the world. There is nothing so enjoyable, so fulfilling, and so meaningful. During weeks like this week, however, I have the inner debate 24/7:
Is it better to stay in teaching, knowing I can't fix the glaring problems....or is it better to get out and know that I gave up? Is it better to be sane and happy, but guilty that I've fled from the ultimate challenge, or better to wake up miserable half the time? I honestly don't know.
Help.
This year alone, I have had students go through my personal belongings, in the MIDDLE OF CLASS, because they felt like it. I had a kid steal my cell phone. I have had students knock over desks, get into fights with each other. TO MY FACE I have been called a bitch, a fag, and an asshole. I've been told TO MY FACE that I'm mean, stupid, that I can't speak Spanish. I have called parents, had meetings with parents, had meetings with administrators. I have given lunch detention and regular detention. I have made students write things like "I will not be late to class" 185 times in a row. I have written referrals and had heart-to-hearts. I have shouted at the top of my lungs, have muttered in my nastiest low voice. I have blacked out on the spot from being so livid. When they're not looking, I've put my head down and sobbed. I have been told off by 11 year olds. I have been told by them that I can't touch them, I can't do anything to them, I have no control over them, I can't tell them what to do. I have been told to go fuck myself.
None of these kids are old enough to obtain a learner's permit.
Last night, I dreamt that one of the "emotionally disturbed" kids at school came into my classroom and shot at me. In the dream, he missed, and hit one (or many; I had the dream a few times) of my students. I kept waking up almost in tears, giving CPR to my pillow. I spent my entire shower thinking about how this kid knows nothing about me, knows no boundaries, could really bring a gun to school. He's a sixth grader, and the latest individual to inform me that I have no control over him, that he doesn't care what I think, and that he's better than me. All of this was in a very loud voice in front of a large group of people. It wouldn't be so bad if this was the first time that's happened. It wouldn't even be so bad if it was the same kid three times. It still wouldn't even be so bad if it only happened to me because I'm young and they think they can get away with that shit with me. In reality, the U.S. as a nation is completely fucked. If these are the people that will be running the country in two decades, then I want a pistol and a bathtub.
When teaching is fun, it is the best job in the world. There is nothing so enjoyable, so fulfilling, and so meaningful. During weeks like this week, however, I have the inner debate 24/7:
Is it better to stay in teaching, knowing I can't fix the glaring problems....or is it better to get out and know that I gave up? Is it better to be sane and happy, but guilty that I've fled from the ultimate challenge, or better to wake up miserable half the time? I honestly don't know.
Help.