Well my good friends...it's that time again. I'm back.
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of having one of my former Camp Schodack campers, recycling extraordinaire, Ben come and speak to my class about well... recycling. The lesson culminated with a recycling relay race event. The kids had an absolute blast, and fell head over heels in love with Ben. And, what's more...the kids saw Ben hugging me goodbye! (gasp). For the rest of the day, I overheard students saying that Ben and I were "busy," making out. I sure hope they go home and tell their parents that.
But, the real gem of this week was today's trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And by gem, I mean slit my throat, shoot me in the ribs, pain in my ass. Let's start with the basics, shall we? As you all know, traveling via subway with a large group of nine and ten year olds is never fun and consistently stressful. One sophisticated young student decided that he was going to develop the swine flu if his face was exposed on the subway. He decided to zip his whole upper body and face into his jacket. The next thing I knew I had twelve children with no faces. It did not help anything that the moment we stepped off the train a woman walked by with a mask. Jane immediately screamed, "She has the wine flu--she's a Mexican! (she was Asian). And, it's Swine, not wine. Coincidentally, as Jane made this comment, she was holding Laura (her best friend)'s hand. Laura is a tiny Chinese girl. I have to wonder if all this time, Jane was confused thinking that Laura is actually a Mexican.
Next, I overheard Jason telling Will that he was adopted. (lie). That his "real" mom has blonde hair, and lives in New Jersey. His "real mom" had to give him up after the Great War. The Great War? You were born in 1999.
Once at the museum, we were in pursuit of the Japanese samurai armor exhibit. (Supporting our unit study of Japan). Once in the museum, I noticed a flock of students posing in front of one particular exhibit. Can you guess which one? Oh, just the Japanese samurai whose junk was covered in armor. That's right, twelve identical photos of kids posing with the statue and his weiner. Once, I herded the special cattle elsewhere, I heard an eruption of sorts that can only be heard from one student. Student screamed, as he slammed his body on the ground, in the middle of the Japanese armor. There were some classy looking people there, they looked less than pleased. I pulled him aside, and told him that he needed to lower his voice, as I put my finger up to my lips, to make the "shh" sound. Student looked into my eyes and roared, "I hate when you do that to me--do not shhhhhhh me." The kid's got a point--no one likes being shushed at--but I was at a loss for words, as to why I had a tantruming ten year old crying over Caleb asking to borrow a pencil. (Yes, he really cried over a borrowed pencil). After, said student's third meltdown, my co-teacher and I decided it was time to book it out of there.
We decided to eat lunch in a nearby park. Guess who threw bread on the ground attracting dozens of pigeons? Yup, my students--that's who. Goodie. Now there was a flock of disgusting pigeons circling me while I ate my sandwich. Soon after they finished eating lunch, they were released into the wild to play on the playground. We soon found out that there was an age limit, four years old, to play on this playground. We had to cut their playground time short. The kids were NOT happy. (You would have thought we just announced that we'd be slaughtering all of their puppies after lunch). Listen up bitches, you got to miss math, reading, science and social studies-- Now enjoy this day, and shut the fuck up.
On a side note, I now feel terribly for all those trips to the mall, where my brother, sister and I would make our poor mom hold all of our coats and belongings. As per usual, I was the resident mom on this trip, carrying the groups lunches, clipboards, and other worldly possessions. I still can't feel my right shoulder. The good news is, the field trip, and the hour long subway ride back to school is over. The even better news is that we are going on another field trip...tomorrow. To quote FML...FML.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Make My Day
There are some mornings I wake up and I literally curse the world. I live my life serving the insane and irrational needs of ten year olds. And oh yes, let's just add insult to injury shall we? I will be in debt to the United States government until I am forty-seven years old, paying off loans for graduate school to further my teaching career. And yet despite all this--there are some days, when I believe that I may actually be the luckiest person in the world to witness such perfection and hilarity (and be paid to do so). Friday was one of those days where perfection and hilarity held hands and sat in my lap. Below is a list of reasons why.
1.Peter and I rattled off quotes from Billy Madison. While, this may not exactly be deemed as educational, these kids are getting something far more valuable. And that is an education in early 90's pop culture--and what could be more important than that?
2. Sam (arms folded across his chest): "Jason said that my face looks like a butt hole." (Is it wrong that I laughed when he told me this?)
3. I overheard the following conversation between Sam and Will.
Will-"Oh yeah, Mr. snappy come back--I'm gonna make you wish you were never born!!!
Sam-"Make my Day!"
Will-"Make me!."
Sam-No, "Make me!."
Will-"Wait-what are we making again?"
4. A group of students approached me with this pressing question: "How come moms scream and yell when they are having a baby?" What I neglected to tell these young, impressionable minds, is what I witnessed in my 12th grade health class, Miracle of Life video. Boys and Girls listen up carefully: The reason that moms yell and scream when they are giving birth is because they are pushing a watermelon through a keyhole. Any more questions? Didn't think so.
1.Peter and I rattled off quotes from Billy Madison. While, this may not exactly be deemed as educational, these kids are getting something far more valuable. And that is an education in early 90's pop culture--and what could be more important than that?
2. Sam (arms folded across his chest): "Jason said that my face looks like a butt hole." (Is it wrong that I laughed when he told me this?)
3. I overheard the following conversation between Sam and Will.
Will-"Oh yeah, Mr. snappy come back--I'm gonna make you wish you were never born!!!
Sam-"Make my Day!"
Will-"Make me!."
Sam-No, "Make me!."
Will-"Wait-what are we making again?"
4. A group of students approached me with this pressing question: "How come moms scream and yell when they are having a baby?" What I neglected to tell these young, impressionable minds, is what I witnessed in my 12th grade health class, Miracle of Life video. Boys and Girls listen up carefully: The reason that moms yell and scream when they are giving birth is because they are pushing a watermelon through a keyhole. Any more questions? Didn't think so.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Drugs make you drunk
This morning I happily watched my students converse with each other after two weeks apart on vacation. They were actually adorable, and like tiny adults-- There was happy chatter and banter amongst them. You could see that they were genuinely happy to be back in school together. Hearing bits and pieces of conversation I overheard Jason say to Sam... " ya know drugs make you drunk." Hmm? While Jason may have had his facts slightly confused, my mind began to wander back to my college days. After all, today is 4/20, an actual holiday celebrated on college campuses across the nation. If not for Jason's comment about drugs, I probably would not have even realized the date...but, there I was... lost in thought...thinking about life in a simpler time. A time when waking up at one pm on a Tuesday was perfectly acceptable and I would survive for weeks at a time with nothing but a mini fridge and a bag of tostitos...ahh yes, those were the days...and in those days brings about a story that has come to be mildly infamous amongst my friends, and I'd like to share this story with all of you. Allow me to set the stage...
(Galzbabi--this one goes out to you). It was the fall of 2002, my freshman year of college. I had adjusted quickly to college life and loved my freshman year floor. Despite sharing a hallway with a boy named "TANK,"(who would often shit on our floor), and sharing a room with a 300 pound African American woman who shouted racial slurs at me when I walked through the door--I felt oddly right at home. I think part of the reason for my quick adjustment to college life was due in part to the two boys that I met who lived right down the hall from me. Enter: Matt and Greg. (Mo+Ktkiwi--you guys too). But, Matt and Greg were sophomores. They took me under their wing as a young, impressionable freshman girl. I felt so cool when I hung out with them. (In hindsight, I think they enjoyed arriving to parties with eight drunk and moderately slutty freshman girls.) I was an appendage at their cool sophomore parties. Matt even had a car on campus--jackpot! Matt used to play the guitar in his boxer briefs, and I would swoon. That was pretty much Matt's standard outfit: Underwear and a guitar. Greg used to sit in front of his computer, giggling for hours on end. The two of them made a great pair, and it was friendship (and love) at first sight. It was destiny. Of course, I had communicated all of this to my mom. Naturally, she could not wait to meet the boys who she was convinced that I would marry. (That's right--both of them).
My parents, older brother and younger sister came to visit me at my first Parents Visiting Weekend. (The kind of thing that is completely reserved for the parents of freshman, but my parents would continue to come on this weekend every year for the next four). Upon my family's arrival into my dorm room, my mom started wandering down the hall-- eager to meet Matt and Greg. I called their room. (That's right, I had a room phone, and a list taped to my wall of every one's four digit campus phone number). Love ya 2002! The boys answered the phone and came right over.
My mom was overjoyed to meet the boys who had made her little girl feel so safe and welcome at this big school. After a lovely conversation, Matt and Greg politely said their goodbyes and began to walk out the door to go back to their room. That's... when... it... happened. The frantic mother's plea heard 'round the world. Almost as in slow motion, my mom lunged out my door...only to frantically shout these horrifying seven words at my new friends, " Thank you for being friends with Lauren." Mortified and shocked...hey--I think I'm pretty likeable, I could hear Matt and Greg dissolve into laughter. My mom tried to take back her words, tried to explain that she was just grateful that I had made such wonderful friends, not that she was grateful that I had actually made friends. Do you see the difference? Yeah, I didn't think so.
(Galzbabi--this one goes out to you). It was the fall of 2002, my freshman year of college. I had adjusted quickly to college life and loved my freshman year floor. Despite sharing a hallway with a boy named "TANK,"(who would often shit on our floor), and sharing a room with a 300 pound African American woman who shouted racial slurs at me when I walked through the door--I felt oddly right at home. I think part of the reason for my quick adjustment to college life was due in part to the two boys that I met who lived right down the hall from me. Enter: Matt and Greg. (Mo+Ktkiwi--you guys too). But, Matt and Greg were sophomores. They took me under their wing as a young, impressionable freshman girl. I felt so cool when I hung out with them. (In hindsight, I think they enjoyed arriving to parties with eight drunk and moderately slutty freshman girls.) I was an appendage at their cool sophomore parties. Matt even had a car on campus--jackpot! Matt used to play the guitar in his boxer briefs, and I would swoon. That was pretty much Matt's standard outfit: Underwear and a guitar. Greg used to sit in front of his computer, giggling for hours on end. The two of them made a great pair, and it was friendship (and love) at first sight. It was destiny. Of course, I had communicated all of this to my mom. Naturally, she could not wait to meet the boys who she was convinced that I would marry. (That's right--both of them).
My parents, older brother and younger sister came to visit me at my first Parents Visiting Weekend. (The kind of thing that is completely reserved for the parents of freshman, but my parents would continue to come on this weekend every year for the next four). Upon my family's arrival into my dorm room, my mom started wandering down the hall-- eager to meet Matt and Greg. I called their room. (That's right, I had a room phone, and a list taped to my wall of every one's four digit campus phone number). Love ya 2002! The boys answered the phone and came right over.
My mom was overjoyed to meet the boys who had made her little girl feel so safe and welcome at this big school. After a lovely conversation, Matt and Greg politely said their goodbyes and began to walk out the door to go back to their room. That's... when... it... happened. The frantic mother's plea heard 'round the world. Almost as in slow motion, my mom lunged out my door...only to frantically shout these horrifying seven words at my new friends, " Thank you for being friends with Lauren." Mortified and shocked...hey--I think I'm pretty likeable, I could hear Matt and Greg dissolve into laughter. My mom tried to take back her words, tried to explain that she was just grateful that I had made such wonderful friends, not that she was grateful that I had actually made friends. Do you see the difference? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
April Vacation Happenings
And it's been a while...
Oh, ohhhh---for the longest time...
It's been a long time, long time--shouldn't have left you...
If you know any of the lyrics posted above I will love you forever.
It sure has been a while! I'm sorry that I have not been blogging as often as I'd like to, it's just that I'm amidst my April Vacaaaaation, and I've gotten a little bit busy, mkay?
If you are just dying to know what I've been up to the past week keep right on reading!
April break began last Tuesday afternoon at 3 pm, and boy did I feel relieved! Twelve whole days of me time, I could not wait! Wednesday-Friday I was home in New Jersey to celebrate Passover with my family. On Wednesday night, we had a Seder at our house. My family's Seder consisted of the following events:
1. My mom, better known as Philyfish or Little Mimi Girl, is a nursery school teacher. For each plague mentioned in the Seder, she also had a prop to go along with it. You better believe that my mom had prop "boils," which she covered her face with.
2. My grandma who is ninety-four years old came into the family room as I was watching an episode of 90210. (Shocking, I know). In this particular episode Brandon Walsh (who is white) was talking with a new African American neighbor that had just moved in. My grandma Eva, the sweetest lady in all the land, said in her frighteningly loud voice, "It's so nice that the blacks and the whites can be friends." Um? Anyone? (Although to be fair, someone very wise said to me--when you're 94 you can pretty much say anything you want.) Ya know what? I think that's a pretty fair statement.
3. Family gatherings are usually the time when my dad likes to share his favorite farting stories. He makes himself cry with laughter. The punchline of every story is that he "blasts" my mom out of their room with his farts.
4. My mom brought the cardboard cutout of my sister (Yes, we actually have a cardboard cut out of my younger sister), to our family dinner table. Heather is studying abroad this semester in Rome, and now as my mom said, "she could have dinner with us." Sweet, yes? Weird and creepy? Okay.
The rest of my time at home were spent trailing Little Mimi Girl around the house. Kid sister, kid sister, kid sister, kid sister--wherever I go--you're gonna go! (Remember that commerical?) Well that was me, regressing to that of a toddler, I literally did not leave my mom's side for forty-eight hours. I'm pretty sure that she loved every minute of it.
Upon arrival back into the city, I had dinner with some friends--BeccaBabe, Rweissy, Galzbabi and Ffarts. Later that night Beccababe and I played rockband with her brother and some friends. Becky was unreal on the drums, and with me on vocals--we were pretty much an all star team. Saturday afternoon my teen tour campers came and visited me at my apartment. Is it weird that I had seven high school kids over my 20-something apartment? Don't answer that. Saturday night I attended a birthday dinner for my good pal Derek, and boy did we have fun! Sunday was spent walking around the East Village and Soho with my friend Josh. Monday, I got to spend the day with Beccababe, who is also a teacher on spring vacation. Tuesday, I bought Tori Spelling's new book, Mommywood. In her new "tell all," she admits that she regrets her boob job. It's about time, cause shots of her cleavage actually make me feel sick to my stomach. On Tuesday, I had to go back home to New Jersey for a dentist appointment. While filling my car up with gas, I was hit on by a gas station attendant, who was quite handsome. I just may have to get my gas pumped there more often. (If ya know what I mean-- hehehohoho).
On my way back to the city, something mildy embarrassing happened. Little Mimi Girl was dropping me off at the train station. As we pulled in, I recognized one of my high school friend's moms. I told my mom that I thought I saw this boy (from high school--who may have also been my 7th grade boyfriend) in the car. A few minutes later I arrived on the platform. Mimi Girl waited for me on the other side of the tracks. She must have seen me hugging a tall gentleman. She then took it upon herself to step out of her car, and shout, into the pitch darkness, "LAUR, IS THAT JORDAN ______ YOU'RE HUGGING?(I never use last names). Why me?
Today was quite a busy day...I had to take a standardized test to prove that I was proficient in science so that I would not have to fulfill that idiotic requirement that my graduate school placed on me. What I found out is this: I am actually not proficient in science. I also found out that I failed the test by two points. But, I am not disappointed. The material on that test I had not seen since 1999. I'm actually moderately impressed with myself that I walked into that test blindly without having seen this material in ten years. You might say that I still failed, but I say--wow, I retained 48 percent of what I learned in 10th grade. Not bad Lauren, not bad at all.
And so, with just a few more exciting days of vacation left... I bid you adue. (Ok, I definitely did not spell adue right). So, sioux me.
Oh, ohhhh---for the longest time...
It's been a long time, long time--shouldn't have left you...
If you know any of the lyrics posted above I will love you forever.
It sure has been a while! I'm sorry that I have not been blogging as often as I'd like to, it's just that I'm amidst my April Vacaaaaation, and I've gotten a little bit busy, mkay?
If you are just dying to know what I've been up to the past week keep right on reading!
April break began last Tuesday afternoon at 3 pm, and boy did I feel relieved! Twelve whole days of me time, I could not wait! Wednesday-Friday I was home in New Jersey to celebrate Passover with my family. On Wednesday night, we had a Seder at our house. My family's Seder consisted of the following events:
1. My mom, better known as Philyfish or Little Mimi Girl, is a nursery school teacher. For each plague mentioned in the Seder, she also had a prop to go along with it. You better believe that my mom had prop "boils," which she covered her face with.
2. My grandma who is ninety-four years old came into the family room as I was watching an episode of 90210. (Shocking, I know). In this particular episode Brandon Walsh (who is white) was talking with a new African American neighbor that had just moved in. My grandma Eva, the sweetest lady in all the land, said in her frighteningly loud voice, "It's so nice that the blacks and the whites can be friends." Um? Anyone? (Although to be fair, someone very wise said to me--when you're 94 you can pretty much say anything you want.) Ya know what? I think that's a pretty fair statement.
3. Family gatherings are usually the time when my dad likes to share his favorite farting stories. He makes himself cry with laughter. The punchline of every story is that he "blasts" my mom out of their room with his farts.
4. My mom brought the cardboard cutout of my sister (Yes, we actually have a cardboard cut out of my younger sister), to our family dinner table. Heather is studying abroad this semester in Rome, and now as my mom said, "she could have dinner with us." Sweet, yes? Weird and creepy? Okay.
The rest of my time at home were spent trailing Little Mimi Girl around the house. Kid sister, kid sister, kid sister, kid sister--wherever I go--you're gonna go! (Remember that commerical?) Well that was me, regressing to that of a toddler, I literally did not leave my mom's side for forty-eight hours. I'm pretty sure that she loved every minute of it.
Upon arrival back into the city, I had dinner with some friends--BeccaBabe, Rweissy, Galzbabi and Ffarts. Later that night Beccababe and I played rockband with her brother and some friends. Becky was unreal on the drums, and with me on vocals--we were pretty much an all star team. Saturday afternoon my teen tour campers came and visited me at my apartment. Is it weird that I had seven high school kids over my 20-something apartment? Don't answer that. Saturday night I attended a birthday dinner for my good pal Derek, and boy did we have fun! Sunday was spent walking around the East Village and Soho with my friend Josh. Monday, I got to spend the day with Beccababe, who is also a teacher on spring vacation. Tuesday, I bought Tori Spelling's new book, Mommywood. In her new "tell all," she admits that she regrets her boob job. It's about time, cause shots of her cleavage actually make me feel sick to my stomach. On Tuesday, I had to go back home to New Jersey for a dentist appointment. While filling my car up with gas, I was hit on by a gas station attendant, who was quite handsome. I just may have to get my gas pumped there more often. (If ya know what I mean-- hehehohoho).
On my way back to the city, something mildy embarrassing happened. Little Mimi Girl was dropping me off at the train station. As we pulled in, I recognized one of my high school friend's moms. I told my mom that I thought I saw this boy (from high school--who may have also been my 7th grade boyfriend) in the car. A few minutes later I arrived on the platform. Mimi Girl waited for me on the other side of the tracks. She must have seen me hugging a tall gentleman. She then took it upon herself to step out of her car, and shout, into the pitch darkness, "LAUR, IS THAT JORDAN ______ YOU'RE HUGGING?(I never use last names). Why me?
Today was quite a busy day...I had to take a standardized test to prove that I was proficient in science so that I would not have to fulfill that idiotic requirement that my graduate school placed on me. What I found out is this: I am actually not proficient in science. I also found out that I failed the test by two points. But, I am not disappointed. The material on that test I had not seen since 1999. I'm actually moderately impressed with myself that I walked into that test blindly without having seen this material in ten years. You might say that I still failed, but I say--wow, I retained 48 percent of what I learned in 10th grade. Not bad Lauren, not bad at all.
And so, with just a few more exciting days of vacation left... I bid you adue. (Ok, I definitely did not spell adue right). So, sioux me.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Full Moon
Well...as my good friend Rachel said, it certainly was a full moon today in the 4th grade. It was the end of a long day, the kids were packing up to head home. It was at that moment that one of my students--(who shall we say, has a bigger build?) Okay, he's kind of a fat ass. (No pun intended). This student, who shall remain nameless, pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. Thank you god, his back was to me. However, this was no innocent mistake. This was a premeditated plan. A big grin spread across his face, as he turned around to see who was checking out his ass. That's right, I got mooned. By a nine year old boy. I had to act tough and strict, after all this is very inappropriate classroom behavior. I told student that we would call his parents and inform the principal. After I spoke sternly to him, I excused myself, locked myself in the girl's bathroom and laughed out loud alone for the next four minutes. And so I ask you yet again...what. is. my. life?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
kill me, please.
Ever notice that the people who run universities are mindless idiots? If your mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, cousin, wife, husband, boyfriend or girlfriend are in this position, then I hope I have not offended you--but none the less--I stand true to my statement.
Today I met with my advisor at grad school. Almost like a check-up at the doctor, this was supposed to be a routine visit, relatively painless. I did not expect to leave my advisor's office in tears ready to punch a small child in the face. No, no--that feeling is reserved solely for the way I used to feel after returning from a math tutoring session. Emotionally fragile and ready to punch someone in the face. I. AM. LIVID. I have been in graduate school since September and just tonight in APRIL, I was told that I would need to take two undergraduate courses, one in math and one in science. But wait, didn't I graduate college three years ago? Oh yeah, I thought so too. Math and Science! My most favorite subjects! If you don't note the sarcasm, then you will be the one I punch in the face.
Let me put something in perspective for you. Math and I are like rubbing alcohol and a giant open wound on my finger, Math and I are like the Yankees and the Red Sox, like suede shoes on a rainy day--we just don't mix. Math and I have had an extremely tumultuous relationship over the past two decades. In the 6th grade I was moved out of "regular" math with all the "regular kids," and was transported into "low math." Aka...freakazoid central. I was mortified, and begged to be switched back out into "regular math." My wish was granted, and that was where I would stay for the next five years...just struggling to pass. Literally. In the 11th grade I passed Algebra II (the course) by just TWO POINTS. I was this close to repeating Algebra II. Against my will senior year, I was moved into remedial math (and even met my 12th grade boyfriend there.) Isn't that so sweet? The story doesn't end there. I moved onto college where I was only required to take ONE math course as an English major. I had to take that course THREE TIMES in order to pass. Yes, you could say that I am moderately deficient at math..unless it's recalling years, dates, ages, and calculating how old you were in the 90's...but other than that--ya got me!
I finally thought that as a 25 year old, with almost three whole years of teaching experience under my belt, I had finally put my math woes behind me. At long last I thought that the days of taking useless and irrelevant classes were a thing of the past, kind of like my blue asphalt jeans and yak-pak. An actual part of my job is to console children, and ease their anxiety when math feels hard for them. I am the teacher that says things like, "When I was your age math was really hard for me too!" My students always respond just as I used to. With a roll of their eyes, they say..."Yeah right! You're a math teacher." Little do they know that those very words, "you need to take another math course" brought a chill to my spine, and actual tears to my eyes.
Apparently, my grades were not high enough in the ONE math and ONE science course I took in college. In order to be a certified New York State teacher, I need to be proficient in both of these areas. Let me tell you something, I have taught math to 4th graders just fine. You do not need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that 2/4 is equivalent to 1/2. So now here I am INFURIATED that I have already paid my yearly salary to this institution and sacrificed hours of my time, only to be told that I need to repeat two courses that I already took (and passed) in college five years ago. No, it's fine. Let me just add in two more classes that meet two times a week into my schedule of teaching full time and taking graduate courses at night. It's great, I don't need to have friends, fun or a life. I HATE MY ADVISOR, I HATE MATH AND SCIENCE COURSES, AND I HATE ALL OF YOU.
love ya guys!
Today I met with my advisor at grad school. Almost like a check-up at the doctor, this was supposed to be a routine visit, relatively painless. I did not expect to leave my advisor's office in tears ready to punch a small child in the face. No, no--that feeling is reserved solely for the way I used to feel after returning from a math tutoring session. Emotionally fragile and ready to punch someone in the face. I. AM. LIVID. I have been in graduate school since September and just tonight in APRIL, I was told that I would need to take two undergraduate courses, one in math and one in science. But wait, didn't I graduate college three years ago? Oh yeah, I thought so too. Math and Science! My most favorite subjects! If you don't note the sarcasm, then you will be the one I punch in the face.
Let me put something in perspective for you. Math and I are like rubbing alcohol and a giant open wound on my finger, Math and I are like the Yankees and the Red Sox, like suede shoes on a rainy day--we just don't mix. Math and I have had an extremely tumultuous relationship over the past two decades. In the 6th grade I was moved out of "regular" math with all the "regular kids," and was transported into "low math." Aka...freakazoid central. I was mortified, and begged to be switched back out into "regular math." My wish was granted, and that was where I would stay for the next five years...just struggling to pass. Literally. In the 11th grade I passed Algebra II (the course) by just TWO POINTS. I was this close to repeating Algebra II. Against my will senior year, I was moved into remedial math (and even met my 12th grade boyfriend there.) Isn't that so sweet? The story doesn't end there. I moved onto college where I was only required to take ONE math course as an English major. I had to take that course THREE TIMES in order to pass. Yes, you could say that I am moderately deficient at math..unless it's recalling years, dates, ages, and calculating how old you were in the 90's...but other than that--ya got me!
I finally thought that as a 25 year old, with almost three whole years of teaching experience under my belt, I had finally put my math woes behind me. At long last I thought that the days of taking useless and irrelevant classes were a thing of the past, kind of like my blue asphalt jeans and yak-pak. An actual part of my job is to console children, and ease their anxiety when math feels hard for them. I am the teacher that says things like, "When I was your age math was really hard for me too!" My students always respond just as I used to. With a roll of their eyes, they say..."Yeah right! You're a math teacher." Little do they know that those very words, "you need to take another math course" brought a chill to my spine, and actual tears to my eyes.
Apparently, my grades were not high enough in the ONE math and ONE science course I took in college. In order to be a certified New York State teacher, I need to be proficient in both of these areas. Let me tell you something, I have taught math to 4th graders just fine. You do not need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that 2/4 is equivalent to 1/2. So now here I am INFURIATED that I have already paid my yearly salary to this institution and sacrificed hours of my time, only to be told that I need to repeat two courses that I already took (and passed) in college five years ago. No, it's fine. Let me just add in two more classes that meet two times a week into my schedule of teaching full time and taking graduate courses at night. It's great, I don't need to have friends, fun or a life. I HATE MY ADVISOR, I HATE MATH AND SCIENCE COURSES, AND I HATE ALL OF YOU.
love ya guys!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)