Down in the Double Dumps

"Yes, this year might be crazy. But I just have to remember that last year was crazier. And that at the end of the day, it's ok. It's OK that they're crazy because they're going to be crazy whether you're a good teacher or not. The difference between this year and last is that I'm not taking everything so personally. I don't go home upset at the end of school. I haven't cried once this year!"

That was me talking to my dad yesterday. I had had a pretty long day where I timed six children out of the classroom and broke up an almost-fight between two football players. I was on my way home and the weather was pretty and I didn't have much more work to do for the night. I was feeling pretty good. Proud of myself for not letting things get to me like they used to. Yes, that's the difference between this year and last. No tears.

Welll...opened my mouth too soon again, because where did 5th block find me today? Hiding from the windows at the back of the room, sniffling away.

White people are emotional. That's what all my black colleagues tell me. We're too sensitive, apparently. What difference should it make if adolescent CHILDREN disrespect you and say mean things to you all day long? You are an adult...get over it. I guess due to my melodramatic tendencies, it's just wayy easier to indulge in a little self-pity. I work so hard and spend all my time for these ungrateful children who ignore all my kind gestures but can't let go of their bitterness when I try to correct them!

Gosh, that sounds so familiar...where have I seen that before...wait, I've got this one...OH, ME. I did that to my parents all growing up (sorry Mom, sorry Daddy). I do it to my heavenly father on a daily basis. Sorry Jesus.

Also, let's be serious. Even though half the time I tell them they need to ________ (listen/focus/shut up/quit punching each other/stop throwing things/do work/pay attention/wake up/get off the counters) for their own good, mostly I just want them to do all those things for my own good. So I can have some sanity. Not so they can become better people.

I will close by telling you two quick anecdotes--one scary, one funny.

Scary first, 'cause it's almost Halloween: Essa is being a jerk (that's the nicest word I could use here). He laughs when I get upset. He makes fun of my sweet little babies who never do anything wrong. He acts like because he is good at running track he is god of RMS. Oh yeah, and he's twelve. TWELVE!! He is a leedle child. Anyways. I called his dad's number today but he didn't answer. He called me back a few minute later and left this message (in a very deep, very African-accented voice): "Nevah call dees numbah. NEVAH EVAH call dees numbah ageen."

Okay?? I was just going to tell you your son told me to 'fuck off'!? But nevermind??

Funny: "Ms. M. How do you pronounce your last name? Can I just call you double D?"

I laugh, but he clearly doesn't see the humor in what he just proposed. "Ummm...I don't know about that one...I don't know if it...suits me."

"I like it! Imma call you Ms. Double-D."