The ball comes to you on the inbounds. For some reason your opponent's team has 13 players on the court, but none of that seems to matter. A quick fake pass throws half your competitors off course and a killer crossover lifts two right off their feet. A couple quick dribbles and you’re driving the lane, narrowly avoiding stepping on Billy’s little sister, who has no idea how silly you just made her look. The big finish comes when you elevate a vertical foot to reverse slam the ball on an 8 foot net.
That’s Game. There will be no rematch – there’s marking to be done. |
Farts are funny.
Listening to kids blame each other for farting is even funnier. The creativity of the inculpatory pronouncements I have heard over the years is now how I introduce our poetry unit.
In my first year of teaching, I let one drop near an open window, thinking it would waft away in the breeze. It did not. Rather, it settled in perpetuity around a table of vocal boys. The blame game had begun. The mob had decided that it was the fault of a quiet kid named Avinash and the abuse hurled his direction was enough to make him cry.
Several moments too late I had to step in, and admit that, since I spoke last, it was I that had set the blast. They still thought that it was Avinash, but the insults now had a much flashier target. Even Avinash got in on the act. That little bugger. I could have totally let you take the hit on that one.
Thus began a new policy when it came to blaming flatulence in the class – “No matter who dropped it, the teacher copped it.”
This is generally a good way to prevent hurt feelings, as, despite the accusation, everyone knows that teachers don’t fart (only private tutors do that). This policy has saved a few tears from being shed in the past as blaming of flatulence is an almost daily occurrence when you spend half your day surrounded by children whose primary diet is grilled cheese and chocolate milk.
Add this to the growing list of things that should have been covered in the first week of teachers college.
Listening to kids blame each other for farting is even funnier. The creativity of the inculpatory pronouncements I have heard over the years is now how I introduce our poetry unit.
In my first year of teaching, I let one drop near an open window, thinking it would waft away in the breeze. It did not. Rather, it settled in perpetuity around a table of vocal boys. The blame game had begun. The mob had decided that it was the fault of a quiet kid named Avinash and the abuse hurled his direction was enough to make him cry.
Several moments too late I had to step in, and admit that, since I spoke last, it was I that had set the blast. They still thought that it was Avinash, but the insults now had a much flashier target. Even Avinash got in on the act. That little bugger. I could have totally let you take the hit on that one.
Thus began a new policy when it came to blaming flatulence in the class – “No matter who dropped it, the teacher copped it.”
This is generally a good way to prevent hurt feelings, as, despite the accusation, everyone knows that teachers don’t fart (only private tutors do that). This policy has saved a few tears from being shed in the past as blaming of flatulence is an almost daily occurrence when you spend half your day surrounded by children whose primary diet is grilled cheese and chocolate milk.
Add this to the growing list of things that should have been covered in the first week of teachers college.
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Ever wonder what it’s like to have 25 personal assistants? Well you shouldn’t – you should already know. If you don’t know, you are clearly not taking advantage of these children enough.
In the past 6 years you’ve probably never taken a note to the office, got a document from the printer, walked your students to a class, or fed yourself grapes. Whatever the job, you have an unpaid, volunteer, workforce at your disposal who absolutely love to help you in any way. “Okay kids… Who wants to do some marking?” |
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Dear Inventor of DEAR Time,
Thank you. Sincerely, Teachers Everywhere. In your class, the volume goes to 11. And sometimes, for the sake of the neighbours, you need to hit mute. Enter DEAR time – an elegant solution to a complex problem. It’s the time when all your students sprawl out around the classroom. Under desks, on pillows, some alone and others squeezed in tight. 20 of them reading, 4 talking too quietly to hear, and one just pretending to read while he daydreams about recess. Silence never sounded so good. |
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Let’s call a spade a spade.
When you hear someone saying the word, Incentive, you know they mean Bribe. "The table that cleans up and shows me the best listening skills will get a “prize.” "If you increase the company's revenue by 10% you will get a “bonus.” Is there really a difference? So, break out those Gummy Bears, savvy educator, and make those kids dance to your tune. It may seem like cheating, but really it’s just an incentive package you can fit in a jar. |
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“It’s not a job – it’s a calling.”
“I don’t do this for the money.” “I’m a teacher – instead of getting paid, I decided to make a difference.” -------- When applying for a mortgage, it is important to keep these pretentious thoughts to yourself. |
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You earn a steady pay. Your job affords you the opportunity to live a decent life. There are people that work harder than you, more hours than you, have more stress in their life than you – and get paid less.
No need to be holier than thou.
When that paycheck comes through, it may be smaller than what you desire, or what you think you’re worth – but it’s still pretty sweet. Someone is giving you money to do what you love.
And that’s awesome.
Also, if that summer job cutting lawns continues to grow, you might just eclipse the poverty line.
No need to be holier than thou.
When that paycheck comes through, it may be smaller than what you desire, or what you think you’re worth – but it’s still pretty sweet. Someone is giving you money to do what you love.
And that’s awesome.
Also, if that summer job cutting lawns continues to grow, you might just eclipse the poverty line.
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In the bubble you teach in, students are fed well. Some may have a lack of variety in their diet, but that’s because they’re picky eaters, not because their families can’t afford anything aside from ham and cheese.
It is because of this affluence that you only feel a slight tinge of guilt when you “borrow” a few chips from one of your quietly agreeable students. It is because of this that you don’t seem to mind “helping out” when a student chimes in that the toasted reuben sandwich his grandmother made is just too filling for him to finish alone. It is because of this that you find peace with “taste testing” the white truffle risotto little Billy’s personal chef made to make sure it is safe for his consumption. Also, Billy doesn’t like caviar, so, you’re really doing him a favour by eating that too, right? |
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You recognize that stealing candy from a baby is wrong – but these kids are 10 – so is it really that bad?
No, it’s not – but this caviar could use a little less salt.
No, it’s not – but this caviar could use a little less salt.
