Archive for category teach me

I’m Not Actually a Teacher

Posted by on Sunday, 25 May, 2014

What I really do, as every kid knows, is exist ONLY TO FRUSTRATE CHILDREN. And DAMN do I enjoy it!

Example 1, conversation between myself (ME) and a highly gifted three year old (SH):
SH: Ms. A, why isn’t Joey here today?
ME: Oh, she went to the moon instead.
SH: She can’t go to the moon! She doesn’t have any way to get there!
ME: Sure she does, she keeps a rocketship in her backyard.
SH: No, she doesn’t!
ME: Yes, she does. She told me all about it yesterday.
SH: No! I’ve been over there for her birthday party and she didn’t have a rocketship in her backyard.
ME: She got it as a birthday present after you left. She just forgot to tell you.

Example 2, a conversation between myself (ME) and a princess obsessed four year old who has very set ideas about gender and stuff (PR), complete with drawings!:

PR: Oh, Ms A! You drew a beautiful princess!
ME: Nope. She’s a queen.
PR: A queen? *look of confusion*
ME: Yep. *draws dragon* This is her best friend – he keeps all of those nasty princes away.
PR: No, the dragon kidnaps the princess and a handsome prince rescues her.
ME: Nope. This is a queen and her best friend, the dragon.
PR: But, Ms A, there HAS to be a princess!
ME: Ok.


ME: Here’s my princess!
PR: Where’s her beautiful dress? And why is she circles?
ME: She isn’t wearing a dress. She’s wearing pants. And she’s circles because princess comes in all shapes and sizes.
PR: But she has to have a beautiful dress!
ME: This princess doesn’t wear dresses – she wears pants, because she likes to climb trees and play on the monkeybars.
PR: Princesses wear beautiful dresses!
ME: Not this one!
ME: My princesses wear pants.
PR: But…but..

I know. I’m a terrible person. But it is just so much fun!


Posted by on Friday, 4 October, 2013

I feel like my brain is melting.

Not only am I currently working full time, I am also trekking the kid back and forth to soccer practice (which he adores, which makes 1 sport he doesn’t hate), taking 1 class for my Masters program, taking 3 classes for my English Language Acquisition requirements, AND getting revved up for 2014′s performance of The Vagina Monologues, which I will be DIRECTING along with a friend.

The working full time is going shockingly well (my principal asked me in to a meeting so she could ask me how I liked the school and if I needed anything and to tell me she loved coming in to my classroom I DONT KNOW WHATS GOING ON), the soccer will be over next week (to be hopefully replaced by piano lessons) but he has such a blast that I don’t mind the schlepping him there twice a week, and the Vagina Monologues is just AWESOME, so really the only thing that is overwhelming me in an irritating way is all of the education I’m being forced to get.

See, my district says I can teach what I teach (Early Childhood Special Education), so long as I get my Masters in Early Childhood Special Education. This would be fine. Except for the fact I have my BS in Special Education, and several add on class in Early Childhood Development, not yo mention that I have six years of experience in Early Childhood Education. So the classes I am required to take have yet to teach me anything new or shocking, and so far all I’m learning is irritation at having my time wasted by sitting through classes I’ve already taken JUST NOT AT A GRADUATE LEVEL.

The district also requires all teachers new to the district to be a certain level of certified to teach English Language Learners. I’m ELA-E, which means I teach in English, but have to understand language development.

Now, guess what one thing we REALLY focus on in Early Childhood Education is? Why, I do believe it would be LANGUAGE DEVELOPMENT. So I’m being forced to sit through 3 classes this semester and another 2 next semester, all with hours and hours of busy work, NONE OF WHICH ARE TEACHING ME ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR RAGE AND IMPATIENCE.

At least my GPA is awesome.

Why I Teach

Posted by on Saturday, 10 August, 2013

A fb comment, that I’m reproducing here so I can read it whenever I need to remind myself of why I do what I do:

You helped rub sucker off my forehead..taught us both to let him pull his pants up..and made me realize I was going to ruin his life if I kept babying him lol never doubt your impact on people. Trust me! You were the reason I realized…oh..we can totally do son has a future outside of our little family.

Tell people if they have an impact on your life. Tell the teachers why they matter. You have no idea what it means to us to hear.

A Day in the Life

Posted by on Saturday, 1 May, 2010

It’s the weekend, yes, but most days I am entirely too tired to even communicate how crazy my job really is. So for your reading pleasure, here is a brief snippet of how this week went.

names changed to protect my ass.

Get down, M. N, no mouth. H, feet on floor. G, you’re fine. No, S, you may not hold my hand right now. D, pick up these first. G, get DOWN. N, get that out of your mouth, it’s gross. No bubbles, N.

Circle time! Check schedule! No bubbles, N. H, feet on floor. What do you want to sing? Listen! Sit in chair, M. Sit in chair, M. SIT IN CHAIR, M. No bubbles, N! *songs may or may not occur*

Centers! Check schedules! N, feet on floor. H, go jump! W, sand out of mouth-YUCK. M, go potty. It does not hurt my feelings when you flush the toilet angrily, M, so GO POTTY. W, you’re done with sand – spit it out. No bubbles, N. Sand is closed, W! STOP TRYING TO EAT IT.

Art! Check schedules! Don’t eat the playdough, W. M, get the playdough off your head. N, you need to share the playdough toys. G, can you roll it out? D, touch it! Just try! W, stop eating the playdough. D, poke the playdough with your finger. Make a snake, N. WE SIT IN CHAIRS.

Snack! Check schedules! *much encouragement and prompting on my part to have kids communicate what they want to eat* H, sitting or throw away. G, please eat SOMETHING today, ok? D, you can’t have what the others are having, so please stop trying to swipe. H, sitting or throw away. N, you took two bites of your apple and threw it away, no you may not have another.

Oh, thank goodness, it’s recess! CHECK SCHEDULES! Get your vests! STOP OPENING THE DOOR, W. S, go potty. Yes, I mean now. GO POTTY. H, stop kicking me, I have to hold yours AND D’s hands, ok? N, yes, for heaven’s sake, BUBBLES NOW. *release class to playground, spend 1 hour attempting to get M to stop eating acorns, W to stop kicking dirt, N to let someone else blow bubbles every now and then, S to let go of my hand, D and G to down up the stairs and down the slide, and H to STOP KICKING ME*

Time to go insi-GET BACK HERE.

Check schedules! Lunch! *shove food in children’s mouths or watch them throw it on the floor or ignore it and demand something else through hand gestures and whiny noises* W, I know it has sauce on it and that mortally offends you, but I promise you have eaten it before. M, keep your food on your plate. No, you may not trade your half eaten bun for his untouched one, S, but nice try. H, sitting or throw away. G, if I give you the cup shaped like Woody from Toy Story, will you at least drink something?

Check schedules! SLEEP! YAY! *send various kids potty, redirect multiple kids who seem to have forgotten where their mats are, sit on children, ignore the 30 minutes of crying from one child*

*majority of children are asleep or at least contained, attempt to write lesson plans, IEPs, transition goals, newsletters, etc, all the while my poor TA is bodily holding down at least one kid who just wants to throw things or step on other kid’s faces or whatever*

Check schedules! Snack! Want juice, W? Juice? Say juice! No, “here you go,” N, say juice. JUICE. You’ve said it seventeen times today, so I know you can do it. JUICE. Go potty, S. Crying doesn’t bother me, I live to make children cry – so go potty! M, if you don’t want popcorn then throw it away. Sure, you can give it to N. …and you’re going to give it to W? He didn’t even want popcorn, but hey, he’s eating it, so it’s ok with me. No bubbles, N.

CHECK SCHEDULES! GO HOME! *shove backpacks onto tiny shoulders, avoid angry kicking feet of H, wrench bubbles from N’s grasp, convince W to put down the animals he’s carrying, shove them onto buses and COLLAPSE*


Posted by on Tuesday, 30 March, 2010

About two weeks ago, my preK class got another addition – a 3 and a half year old who has never been in school or daycare or anything before. I feel for him. I do! It’s especially traumatic for him because he has never had to do ANYTHING EVER FOR HIMSELF BEFORE IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF HIS LIFE. Pants? Pshew. His mommy puts those on for him. Clean up? PLEASE – he has a big sister to do that for him!

So now, he has come to my class. Where I do not put your pants on. Why should I? THEY ARE NOT MY PANTS. I AM ALREADY WEARING PANTS.

This has resulted in endless crying and crying and crying and some head banging and OMG THE CRYING ENDLESS NOISE MY BRAIN HAS MELTED AND IS LEAKING AND THE CRYING AND THE CRYING.

Now, the crying has now gone on for three weeks, with him crying AT LEAST 3 hours a day, and it has just hit the point where it is now funny.

Why is it funny?

Because along with the crying and crying and omg the endless endless endless crying i hate everything please stop crying i will buy you a pony, he wants you to KNOW that he is crying. He wants you to feel bad for all the suffering you are putting him through. HE WANTS YOU TO FEEL THE GUILT YOU SHOULD FEEL FOR MAKING HIM PULL UP HIS OWN PANTS.

So, he crawls into your line of sight and stares RIGHT AT YOU while he’s crying. If you’re looking the other way, he’ll walk in front of you and flop onto the floor and cry. I’ve never been able to make a child more furious just by turning my head away, or even better, just by CLOSING MY EYES.

Things I Have Added to The List

Posted by on Thursday, 11 March, 2010

I needed to add a few things to the list of “Things I Did Not Expect to Say When Dealing with Small Children.”

- “Don’t lick the chair! I have to sit on that!”

- “Stop peeing in the sink!”

- “We do not spit in our toys and then DRINK IT. EW EW EW.”

Why do so many of my issues involve bodily fluids? I’d be fine if they’d just stop…leaking from so many different orifices.


Posted by on Thursday, 18 February, 2010

Dear parent of a preschool child in my class,

I am sure your child is a special snowflake who can do no wrong and rainbows come out of his ass. However, your child is a pain in MY ass, and I would appreciate that you make up some random boundaries for the home environment. Things like: you WILL pee in the toilet and not on the floor, even when you are angry because I will not give you more crackers. Or, you WILL NOT kick me repeatedly in the ankle to get my attention for long enough to throw a block at my face. Or even, when I say your name, it does not mean, “throw yourself to the ground and scream, then go limp when I try to pull you to your feet, because you are BLOCKING THE ENTIRE DOORWAY INTO THE SCHOOL.”

You know. The basics.

It also does not amuse me when your child refuses to stay on his mat during rest time, and when I go to retrieve a toy he is not supposed to have, he promptly begins screaming, “I HATE YOU, YOU ARE HURTING ME.” I am not touching him, although I have been having strongly enjoyable daydreams of giving him a rather forceful swirly in our miniature toilet.

Please remember that the other children in my classroom have autism, and are on a different playing field than your child. Your child understands and can communicate a vast number of words, so he is capable of saying, “I want to play with that!” instead of snatching it out of one of my other students’ hands. And no, while I will send an incident report home if he begins to bleed at any point, I’m not going to bother stopping the student who just went purposefully crashing into your child. Why? I told your son already. DON’T POKE THE BEAR. THE BEAR IS TWICE YOUR SIZE. IF THE BEAR HITS YOU FOR STEALING HIS TOY, I WILL NOT STOP HIM.

Please remember all these things, and remember, we would love to have you join us for our Parent Activity this month! This month, my aide and I are planning a barbecue! We’re very excited to have gotten permission for your son to be the main course!

Your son’s teacher

Yo Check My Flow

Posted by on Thursday, 28 January, 2010

A collection of random thoughts, strung together in no coherent order with numbers and called a post:

1. Something I never expected to have to say to any person (regardless of preschooler status or Autism label) is “Stop eating the laundry basket!” He ripped the bottom off and was chewing on the straw. Why? For the same reason he eats acorns and leaves on the playground. TO MAKE ME CRAZY.

2. Voldemort has gotten progressively more hilarious. Yesterday, he saw helicopters, and when I asked where he thought they were going, he said to our house to pick up Dora treats and then go to the moon.

…it’s cuter if you know him. Otherwise, it’s probably just an annoying story told by an annoying parent who thinks everything her average child does is adorable. NOT THAT MY KID IS AVERAGE. MY KID IS A GENIUS. A GENIUS WHO THINKS THE FUNNIEST KNOCK KNOCK JOKE IS:
Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Griffin who?
Griffin KITTY!

3. I have a tendency to get sucked into certain books and topics. This happened with Julie and Julia, where I saw the movie, which lead to the book, which lead to the blog, where I eventually lost interest.

There was also a previous example where i ran across a post about Tom Cruise and a video he did about Scientology where he basically made no sense, which lead to information about L Ron Hubbard and him being BAT SHIT INSANE, which lead to several weeks where I researched creepy stuff and being brainwashed, and then I started having reoccurring dreams about thetas and being audited, and at that point I decided the crazy was coming from inside the house, so I cut myself off cold turkey and now avoid any and all research into Scientology to avoid active hallucinations about Tom Cruise cracking my skull open and stealing my brain.

Instead, I just finished Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders, so Im about to go locate the Manson documentaries on Netflix and do some research on youtube. I’m absolutely sure this won’t cause me any nightmares or mental trauma!

4. I have now had to remove an obscene amount of materials from my classroom, because I have students who tend to fixate. I had to remove any and all references to Thomas the Train, because I had one student who would do absolutely NOTHING ELSE but drive Thomas and make Thomas noises. Then I had to remove all crayons and small objects that were blue, as a different student would line them all up and would have a complete meltdown when asked to put them away, or do, i dont know, ANYTHING. Then a singing frog, because OMG MAKE THE STUPID SONG STOP FOR THE LOVE OF TOAST. And now, we’re carefully hidden a crock of fake plastic cookies with fake candy on the top, because of the student with the blue fixation has lately been refusing to do things like eat, nap, or participate in circle time for the joy of rubbing two of the cookies together. Ah, sensory issues. HOW FUN!

5. For those of you who know me in real life, you know I
A)love Glee
B)love Asian entertainment
so this promo for Glee on Fox Japan leaves me rolling on the floor laughing.

Hay-Barn-Apple Tree

Posted by on Sunday, 10 January, 2010

When we moved from Alaska, I was hoping we were doing our last move. Less then 6 months later, I knew we weren’t. Brandus hates it here, which has more to do with the school district and the political crap in his school than with hating the actual physical place. Although, there are issues with the physical place as well.

We live on an island, and we love it. We’re only 2 blocks away from the beach or the sound. But the biggest city close to us is Jacksonville, and there is a very large Marine base there. Which means the majority of the people in our area are military – and by extension, the majority are..conservative.

Being conservative (in whatever way, political or whatever) isn’t a problem. What IS a problem is how brandus feels like he has to bite his tongue about his basic beliefs in school. Brandus isn’t Christian. He’s vegetarian. We’re liberal. This makes us very different from most people around here – and so he feels like he can’t even be himself or express himself to his co-workers.

Add to that the fact that, here, if a child, a third grade child, an EIGHT YEAR OLD, fails the end of year exams, they have failed the whole grade. An eight year old. Failing an entire grade the first year they even have to take a high stakes test. It’s ridiculous.

So, are we moving? Maybe. At this point, it’s all down to finances. To move to where we want (which is currently Washington state, where Brandus can work at a BIA school, and I can do..something. I don’t care what) will be very expensive. Like, several thousand. Like five thousand OR MORE. And that doesn’t include our basic costs for the summer.

I think we’ll just..throw all of our stuff away and hitchhike cross country. It would be cheaper, and it would expose Voldemort to a vast array of new and terrifying and dirty adventures!

Swiper, No Swiping

Posted by on Tuesday, 5 January, 2010

Sunday night, the very idea of going back to work felt a little like I was going to be pushed out of a plane in mid air. Possibly with a parachute, but it really doesn’t matter, I was still completely dreading it.

And getting up Monday morning required me to pry myself out of bed with a crowbar, but the kid popped right up and even dealt with the fact of NO WE CANNOT WATCH DORA RIGHT NOW, which is better than his normal reaction to that answer, which is to jump up and down and flail his arms and scream. Which is usually followed by my reaction, which is, IF YOU DO NOT STOP, NO DORA EVER. At which point he sniffles and says, Ok. Can I have juice?

Regardless, Monday actually went well, which just goes to show that pre-emptive dreading actually solves problems, and lack of whining leads to a happier Mommy and a non-Dora free house.

Now, today? Today was another ballgame. Complete with preschoolers climbing on top of furniture and staring at me to see what I would do, preschoolers stripping, and Voldemort getting time out after time out at daycare for snatching toys to watch other kids cry. AWESOME. WE’RE BACK IN THE GROOVE.

Pants Optional

Posted by on Tuesday, 10 November, 2009

My child has decided, after a discussion with his father, who was trying to get him to stop crying and crying and crying for no apparent reason, that this year, we shall celebrate Hanukkah. This seems like a downright swell idea to me, so we’re going with it. The fact that we aren’t Jewish doesn’t matter all that much, does it?

We’ll grab a Menorah, light some candles, and have 8 days of presents. I like that better anyway.

It might help me deal with the sheer utter stupid that I ran into today. So, I pass my boss in the hall twice today, smile as she passes, I think one time I even said ‘Hi,’ once. She doesnt so much as glance my way. Seriously, not a flicker. Not a nod. Nothing.

Um. I figured maybe she was just…distracted. So i go about my day, get my kids on the bus with no major drama…and when I get home, Brandus says, “Um..”


“My principal pulled me aside today, and said I should have a talk with you.”


“She wants to know what you did to get on your principal’s bad side, and that you better kiss ass FAST to get on her good side.”

Let me rephrase this whole conversation. Brandus was pulled aside, BY HIS PRINCIPAL, to warn me I needed to get on MY PRINCIPAL’S good side.

She’s talking shit about me, people. TO OTHER PRINCIPALS. And let us review – what exactly have i done so wrong?

1. I didnt check in when I went on a home visit that lasted longer than usual, leading me to be, in her eyes, an hour late returning to the school. And leaving my room a mess…even though they hadn’t delivered my furniture until we had already left for the home visit, and we didn’t KNOW the room was a mess.

2. My lesson plans printed off strangely, cutting off a sliver of the letters down one side.

THESE ARE THE ONLY THINGS I KNOW I’VE DONE WRONG. Every single freaking thing she has told me to do, we have done. And we have hopped to every single time she has said hop.

I can’t even hate her. She’s too fucking ridiculous.

Please, Sir, May I Have Another?

Posted by on Monday, 2 November, 2009

I got called down to the office this morning and told to reprint my weekly lesson plans.

My offense? The first letters on the right hand side were cut off. Not the whole letter, just a tiny fraction. The word could still easily be read.

I was given a stern look, and told not to let this happen again.


Sometimes My Fandom Life Overtakes My Real Life

Posted by on Thursday, 29 October, 2009

I have thoughts to share.

An entire story about the sheer ridiculousness that I encountered one day while picking up Voldemort from daycare, when the assistant manager told me, giggling and almost blushing, that she had never known another 2 year old who uses anatomically correct terms for his genitalia.

Because “wee wee” and “pee pee” are so much more appropriate then “penis,” I guess.

More insane stories about my job and the micromanaging, which has now progressed to a degree of inanity where the work room is no longer available to the teaching public of the school. It is kept locked, and all things which must be photocopied, cut, laminated, or die cut must be submitted to the office at least 2 weeks before it is needed.

No, Im really not kidding. Teachers and TAs are no longer allowed to set foot in the workroom.

Stories about the fact my sister is coming to visit tomorrow, and she’s making Indian food, and we’re trying to plot out the best way to make a cake that looks like brains so we can pretend to be zombies.

Instead, I leave you with the song that has been stuck in my head for the past week. It’s a damned addicting vid, too. It’s fairly obvious the guys who dressed them were on crack. I’m very fond of the girl whose hair sticks straight up.

“At Least”

Posted by on Saturday, 10 October, 2009

Back when I had Voldemort – and by “had,” i mean, “expelled him from my body,” people would ask about his birth, and I would say how fast it was, and how intense, and how disappointed I was that Brandus hadn’t gotten to be there.

And, I’m not sure if it’s because there is a large military community in Alaska, or what, but almost universally, if I said that, they would come back almost immediately with, “At least he isn’t in Iraq!”

Because, you know, obviously, I was being a selfish bitch to express the want to have my husband by my side while being in labor – when I was overwhelmed and hurting and alone.

I always had to resist the urge to punch the people who said that in the face.

Because what if he had been in Iraq, and I had said how disappointed I was that he hadn’t been there – what would they have said then? “At least he isn’t dead!” “At least he hasn’t abandoned you!” “At least he doesn’t hit you!”

I mean, just..what? Why CAN’T I be sad about something I wanted not happening?

And why can’t I be sad that I’m at a new school, in a new classroom, with a whole new set of expectations and stresses and stupidity?

Why do I have to hear, “At least you have a job!” “Just be happy you’re employed!” Why? I want to punch these people in the face, too. If it was someone who was unemployed saying it, at least they have an excuse to say it – bitterly, even. But every single person who says it to me is EMPLOYED. Usually in a better paying job then mine.

At least I have a job! At least I’m not on the streets! At least I’m not on meds to control the anxiety I feel about dealing with the principal and the expectations and the utter shit that goes with being in an intensive needs classroom!

…no, wait. Never mind about that last one. It’s too late. My one goal this year was to make it to January without anti depressants. I forgot to make a goal about anxiety.

At least Im on anti anxiety meds! At least I’m not suicidal!


Posted by on Thursday, 1 October, 2009

Im going to start a new exercise regimen. Im going to market it, make videos, go on tv, and make millions of dollars.

It’s called, “How Fast Can That Child Move?”

It involves constantly counting children on the playground, bracing yourself for the inevitable moment when one particular five year old child goes hurtling towards one of the gates. THE GATES HE CAN OPEN. When this happens, you must instantly throw yourself after the child full tilt, because if this kid makes it out the gates, there is no fucking way you’ll be able to catch him. And, as an added bonus, if you lose this kid, you’ll get a HUGE ASS LECTURE from your micromanaging principal about “SUPERVISION!” or very probably fired. Who knows? LET’S KEEP THAT HEART RATE UP!

And! For a low low price of $19.99 a month for the rest of your life, I will cheerfully explain that this happens for an ENTIRE HOUR, and you will have to be on your guard, because today might be a day where he runs for it 8 times, or maybe only two! And you will be be on a full out sprint to catch him, because that little fucker is FAST. It’s Interval training at it’s finest!

Call now! Only 2 spots available for this amazing offer* – TODAY ONLY!


*after my TA and I drop dead of exhaustion

Hi Dad! I’m in JAIL!

Posted by on Tuesday, 1 September, 2009

My new workplace is..interesting. To say the least.

I got called in on the carpet on Friday, after working there a whole two weeks, and my job was threatened.

And I quote, “There are 200 people out there who would love to have your job! They would take your job in a second!”

What exactly did I do?

I went on a home visit, and then went to lunch. I didn’t call the school to check in.

I was very upset initially, but today, when i got a memo in my box about newsletters being turned in that had not been proofed very well, I realized the woman just has some emotional control issues.

I realized this because she used some of the EXACT SAME SENTENCES to describe how this newsletter thing was UNACCEPTABLE as she did to tell me my work ethic and slacking (nope, not kidding, she called me a slacker) was UNACCEPTABLE.

Newsletter vs being out of the school for three hours…


I’ve come to realize this has a very specific feeling. See, while I was being yelled at, she insisted I give her the name and phone number of the family I was visiting. To check up on me. Much as you would check up on a teenager who had a history of lying to you.

That settles it. Next time she’s out of town, I’m throwing a party. BYOConstruction paper, ’cause toast forbid if you dont have any when she checks in your cabinets.

Things Four Year Olds Say

Posted by on Tuesday, 9 June, 2009

1. “I just farted out my mouth.”

2. “Can I stand on your tummy?”

3. “Girls dont have a penis. They go shopping.”

Say Hello, Dorothy

Posted by on Wednesday, 22 April, 2009

Ive spent this week alternating between crippling depression over my job and how the entire profession of teaching hates me in very not subtle ways, and extreme irritation while i say things like, “IF YOU THROW YOURSELF ON THE FLOOR ONE MORE TIME, I AM CALLING THE WHINE WAGON TO COME AND GET YOU,” and “FOR THE LOVE OF TOAST, STOP LICKING THE TABLE.”

Preschoolers are weird.

Of course, I may only get this year to say that, because the licensure department – you know, the people who didn’t issue my license until MARCH when I applied in DECEMBER – says that I have to complete the 6 hours I need to clear my provisional PreK license by June.

Ok, no problem!

Except that it is, because only one of the classes I need is offered this summer. Can they extend the time frame, seeing as I didnt know what classes I needed until AFTER the deadline for spring registration?


I call HR. they make thoughtful noises, and recommend i check with different colleges and universities to see if any offer the class I need.

I say…no, i really wasnt KIDDING when I told you this class was not being offered ANYWHERE IN NC. TRUST ME, I ALREADY LOOKED.

*facepalm* i think ive got it worked out, after talking to the Guy in Charge of something, who has agreed to let me take a different class and pretend it counts towards my license.

It’s possible that somewhere along the way in talking to HR and Guy in Charge and The Evil State that my head popped right off of my neck and rolled around on the floor. Because ever since, I’ve had a very difficult time making sentences that make sense. Or stringing words together in any order. Or not calling kids the wrong name.

Join me tomorrow, when I spam you with pictures of the TWO YEAR OLD VOLDEMORT. AHHHHHHH!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

Forever and Ever and a Day and a Half

Posted by on Saturday, 28 March, 2009

The week before this last one, I got called down to the county office to sign my contract! Finally, I am a licensed teacher!

But wait..I AM a licensed teacher. I HAVE been a licensed teacher for the past 7 years! So, why, exactly, did it take North Carolina FOUR MONTHS to agree with me?

Because my Alaska license had expired. 2 days after NC received it. It was a provisional license anyway, so maybe NC just decided Alaska wouldn’t have relicensed me. Which is true, I never did take the Alaskan history classes that i needed to take to teach longer in Alaska. I didnt take them, because i knew we were leaving, and there was no point.

Well, finally, after having to write, call, and fax SOUTH Carolina, home of my first teaching certificate from 2001 (no, really, and thank goodness they still had it on file), North Carolina finally grudgingly said ok, and sent me my license.

But wait! I teach PreK now! I’m not licensed to teach PreK!

REALLY? says I, because my transcripts disagree with you!

NC sniffed haughtily and said FINE, MAYBE i can be licensed in PreK, BUT FIRST I HAVE TO TAKE THESE TWO CLASSES. And they HAVE to be done this summer, or no license for me!

Well, fine then.

They sent me a letter on 1/14/2009 (TWO MONTHS BEFORE THEY CLEARED MY LICENSE BTW) and listed the two classes I needed. This was, obviously, too late to apply to take the classes for Spring semester. So, im looking into summer classes. Makes sense, right?

NEITHER OF THE CLASSES I NEED ARE BEING OFFERED ANYWHERE CLOSE TO ME. Ive found ONE class that i need being offered. five days a week everyday for a month solid.

at a school 2 hours away.

They might have given me a teaching license because I bullied them into it, but right now, NC is laughing at me.


Posted by on Thursday, 5 March, 2009

Scene: PreK lunch table, speech therapist is struggling with the childproof lock on the fridge

4 year old: I can open it! Here! *unlocks*

Scene: PreK Snack time, directly after rest time.

Teacher: Do you want a snack?
4 year old: *nods*
Teacher: *turns away*
4 year old: *pukes on floor*
Teacher: OMG!
4 year old: Look, I had strawberries for breakfast.

Scene: Rest time

5 year old: And then that fucking thing fell down!
TA: …the..WHAT?