Snow Angels and Shizz

I sort of feel like I'm in the Gilded Age of teaching...ya know, a super crappy time coated in all the feels I have toward educating the children; at this point,  it's the only thing that keeps me getting up every day. It's the Gilded Age because I am actually happy, not stressed, that we've missed three days in a row and will probably miss a fourth on Monday because of blizzard-like conditions that swooped in overnight. I literally have sat on the same couch cushion for three days straight with minimal moving. I've managed to make it to the gym once, go for a snowy walk, break out the Wii for Just Dance 3, and get myself inordinate amounts of food and La Croix waters from the kitchen (luckily in the same room as the couch). A year ago, I would have cheered, then jeered, at the thought of so many snow days in a row, and now? Now, I'm jaded. Having that 20-something moment of needing to "find myself" career wise. On top of that, you can only sit on the same piece of furniture with your cat while talking to your boyfriend on the phone without thinking, "wow, I'm literally snowed in with a furry man cat. I am sort of a cat lady." Le sigh.

I haven't worn real clothes in three days. THREE DAYS. And no, gym clothes don't count. Spandex in public is really only acceptable if you're going to or coming from the gym. Take note, ladies.

So, after fighting with a spaghetti squash for 15 minutes, I'm sitting here smelling the yummies bake in the oven while I formulate a million 'what ifs' in my head for the near future. Instead of divulging too much, I'll just tell you more about me from the perspective of the children:

I am an idiot. I know nothing about college, student loans (or how to avoid them), ACT scores, or scholarships. As a matter of fact, I should just stop trying to tell them things because I just sound stupid when I "lecture" about having a plan for the future.

I still have no idea how to be a good teacher. I certainly know nothing about Shakespeare or English, and I really should stop with all this history stuff about Rome because what in the world does that have to do with reading and writing about Julius Caesar?

White girls can cook? ANNNNNDDDD bake?

Apparently I'm the most generous person ever: one child literally takes my water every day and guzzles it after lunch. "Thanks, Ms. Freeman!" You're welcome, I guess. I mean, is it couth to say "thank you" when you didn't ask in the first place?

I don't understand the difference in late and on time. I mean, I should totally let you in if you're sprinting down the hallway and still around the corner when the bell rings. Shame on me for making you get a note to class. I'll work on that.

I am a social outcast because I don't watch Empire. I can't believe I don't know who pushed pookie or boo boo or bae down the stairs last week.

Sit in chairs? Who sits in chairs? On their bottoms? Looking respectable? I missed the memo where we sprawl across desks and chairs because we're 'tired' and just don't feel like learning today. Next visitor to my room should expect me face down on the lectern. I can totally teach that way.

Whoever came up with putting things away after you use them should be placed in front of a firing squad. How dare I ask the children to push in their chairs and put away the borrowed pencils at the end of class. And stack textbooks? No. That's doin' too much.

Leave school at 3pm when I'm allowed to walk out the door? Well, if judgmental looks and mumbles from the permanent fixtures are all I have to worry about as I grab my belongings at 2:59, I'll surely shake them off at the slam of the heavy metal door. Some people, for their own sanity, get their crap done strategically during planning, before school, and while the children are working. Some of us are over the times where taking work home is the norm. If I took work home at this point, I'd cry all the time, have no boyfriend, and really be a cat lady. No bueno.

So, in the spirit of getting to scrape the cool looking (and super stubborn) spaghetti squash, I'll spare you any further weirdness or insights into my soul. I'll probably watch You've Got Mail for the third time in three days and continue to sit on my couch cushion. C'est la vie, people.

One more day...

And no. I'm not singing Les Mis style. One more day of school before the children and I get a solid break from one another, and despite the snow days, I'm ready for this break.

Non educators don't understand the NEED for spring break. Next week will most likely piss off the majority of working folks because Monday morning will fill Facebook with jubilant statuses about time off; however, before getting panties in a wad, people should consider that they work for vacation time they can take as they please. We are told when we get our time. Business folks get stressed out, and they can take a week of vacay to recoup; teachers get stressed, and we just have to put on a happy face and hope we don't choke a child before the next scheduled break. That's hard sometimes. Battling a room full of squirmy teens when the weather has just jumped from 30 to 70 overnight is like trying to herd cats. Tomorrow is going to be a case of the security guards trying to keep the inmates from running the asylum. I'm not a superstitious person, but I can attest to the weird behaviors of children on full moons, changes in weather, and before breaks. They lose their minds. For serious.

As they stroll into the room (the ones who actually bother coming to school on the last day before break), you'll have to wonder if an imaginary someone jerked their chains and kicked their mouths into overdrive. One always walks over to the blinds to pull them up for optimal outdoorness on the inside...they're like little plants that need high light. After the chatter and indoor sunbathing ensues, one goofball never fails to ask, "are we doing anything today?" Teachers, this is the perfect moment to slap on that fake smile and say to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job." If you're clever, you'll answer with something quick: "Um, no. I thought we'd celebrate the day before break through interpretive dance. Surprise! You're first!" Expect eye rolls. Teenagers don't like when adults use sarcasm to make them feel dumb. Once you convince them that there really isn't a dvd in the player, they settle in with looks that could kill. The clock gets more glances the day before a break than any other day of the year, and time, of course, passes at a handicapped snail's pace. Fight the current, teachers. You have classes to teach.

Rules exist for days before breaks:

• Don't start anything new. 
• Don't set a due date for the day you return from break.
• Don't underestimate the number of teachers showing movies and the even larger multitude of questions and sighs you'll receive for not showing one.
• Don't remind them of things that are happening well after break and think it sufficient. Once they leave the room, a magic vacuum above the door sucks the sense from them, and they're no better than drooling puppies itching to go play in the yard. 

Regardless of what others think, spring break is necessary. Honestly, I kind of think parents don't like breaks because they fear having to occupy their teens for an entire week. Trust me, parents. We love your children, but we feel your pain. Trying to come up with efficient ways to occupy, entertain, teach, enlighten, and challenge your children 180 days out of the year is a scary task. So give us a break: let us enjoy the five days we get before we're thrown back into state testing, AP testing, graduation, recommendations, prom, field trips, research papers, etc. Without break, you might see us on the 10 o'clock news, and I hear the camera adds ten pounds -- that is just not ok with me.

Commercialized Love Day

Valentine's Day: the one day of the year when lovers and not lovers feel the pressure to impress one another with chocolates, stuffed animals, expensive jewelry, and love notes. Valentine's Day: Commercialized Love Day. 

Before anyone tags me a V-day hater, I'm still a girl, and I still love all of these things...I just don't necessarily think they are reserved for February 14th.  Now, onto my breakdown of Commercialized Love Day...