Hey it’s snowing here! Again. Clearly we’re going to have a white Christmas so enough already.
I’ve been mulling over this post a little, because I’m not sure exactly how to word it.
I’ve been spending some time in my son’s classroom this week. I really like most of the kids in there. Most. One little girl though. Oh. My. God. If I wouldn’t be arrested and then probably sued, I would slap the living daylights out of her.
I am not a violent person. I rarely even kill bugs. That’s mostly because I won’t go near a lot of them, so that doesn’t really prove my point so you’ll have to just trust me on this one. I’m not violent. But I would like to shake her until her teeth rattle around in her head.
She is the mouthiest, brattiest, meanest, know-it-all little monster I have ever met. Ever.
There are tables in my son’s classroom, as opposed to individual desks. Five children per table. There are five girls at the table the brat child sits at. That would be problem number one. Never, never put 5 females together without some sort of buffer, like a male. I don’t care if they are 8 or 87. It doesn’t work.
Project # 1. Snow scenes made with rice. First they pencil sketched a snow scene, then used glue to adhere white rice. Brat child drew a character from a video game (I don’t know which one, or how it was considered snowy) then proceeded to ERASE THE DRAWINGS OF EVERY OTHER GIRL AT THE TABLE. Because they weren’t good enough. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied that she has taken 3 years of art lessons and she was going to draw each other girl’s picture for her because “they will look better that way.” Since I couldn’t respond with “Look here, shit head, leave them alone to do their own pictures”, I said “Well, since these are going to be gifts for your parents, maybe they would like TO MAKE THEIR OWN.” One little girl whispered thank you and said they had been trying to tell her that.
Project # 2. Work in teams to assemble a foam elf door hanger to give as gifts to other teachers in the school. They had a bag of materials and an instruction sheet, as well as the already done example hanging on the white board to go by. That group of girls was the last one done, mostly because the brat child would disassemble anything that any other child had done, and do it again on her own because “it looked better that way”. After the elves were assembled, they were responsible for cleaning up their areas. She started to walk away because “another group needs her help”. I told her she needed to help her group clean up before she decided to go “help” anyone else.
Project #3. A Picture find. Sort of like a “Where’s Waldo?” with a list of items that needed to be located. A couple of the girls at her table had their hands up so I went over to see what they needed. They asked what a menorah is. As I was explaining it to them, the shit head actually told the teacher on me! “She’s helping them, Mr. H” I give the man credit, he did not laugh at her (or kill her). He replied “That is what Mrs. T is here for, to help us with our projects.” As I circulated around the room, I noticed her circling items on the papers belonging to some of the other girls at the table. The teacher also noticed and called her out on it.
Project #4. Scale drawings. Working in groups of two, the children had to take a section of a smaller drawing and transfer it on to a bigger piece of paper. Theoretically (!) when they put the large pieces together on the bulletin board, they will all match up and look exactly like the smaller picture. They did individual practice sheets before attempting the larger picture. Again, she was erasing everyone else’s papers and DOING IT OVER FOR THEM! Again, I went over and said “Brat child (*name changed for privacy), they are not going to learn how to do this if you do it for them.” The girl whose paper she was currently redoing said “That’s what I keep telling her – she won’t listen!”.
My major my freshman year of college was Elementary Education. Funds were low, so I didn’t return to college the next year – I found a job in a daycare. When I did return to college, I changed my major. After just one year of working with children, I knew that was not the job for me. I know some of you will say there is a difference…but not enough for me to ever even consider teaching. Thank God/Goddess there are people, like Mr. H., who are willing to take on the challenge – and are good at it.
Me? I’d be locked up in jail or in an asylum by now.
There are three good reasons to be a teacher – June, July, and August. ~Author Unknown