Yesterday, my little friend whose mother seems to care more about his success than he does copped all kinds of attitude with me. Apparently, he "always asks for help" and I "never help him." Because really, friends, I'm all about setting kids up for failure. That's why I've been contacting her moms at least once a week for the past three. Oh, I know what it is: I make the kids ask me actual questions. "I don't get it" requires a specific question before I will help; making them think through it before I help makes me an unreasonable biz-nitch. And of course, there's the ever popular, "we never learned this in the other teacher's class last quarter." Except, sweetie, that I knoow you learned this in MY class last year, and we've been working with these skills all this quarter. ROOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR.
Slept in this morning, which always feels delicious.
I got up, graded (turnitin.com is a beautiful thing, friends) the 17 Macbeth Explications I told the kids would be graded yesterday , then rewarded myself with a nap.
I've also been watching the reverse-order Lethal Weapon marathon all day. Gotta love Mel from back in the day when he kept his anti-Semitism on the inside. Those guys sure spend a lot of time underwater.
To make sure I didn't get too giddy with the post-grading flush, I found out that a friend of mine who is the only World Language teacher at her semi-rural school in MN just got cut down to half-time. She teaches Spanish and French. In addition to worrying about my friend and how she is going to make ends meet, I can't help but worry about those kids. She teaches at a 7-12 school. Now those kids have only a half-time teacher?
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