Sub Adventures 5: NOPE (A Shellybird Ventpost)

As Cartman used to say at the end of every episode of South Park, I've learned something today. (At least, I guess that was Cartman, and I guess it was every episode. I stopped watching that show after they went too hard in the paint with the Jesus jokes. The way my soul's salvation is set up, I have enough to answer for. Can't be all laughing at the Messiah.)

Here's the lesson: I am NOT a middle school teacher. I just CANNOT deal with those chaps and their attitudes. Give me sweet little ones who cry at the drop of a hat, count on their fingers, and need their shoes tied. Those big(ger) kids just aren't for me. The high school--with the REALLY big kids--doesn't even factor into my equation. I was at the middle school today and the air was so thick with "Screw this, I don't wanna be here, and I DON'T have to listen to a substitute," that I could have cut it with a knife. I would take into consideration the fact that spring break starts Friday IF this wasn't a regular occurence for me when I go to ye olde springboard to high school, but nah. I can count on ONE FINGER the number of times I've subbed at the middle school and my students have acted the way they were supposed to, so let's not blame the much maligned spring fever, cuz he ain't do nuffin'. It's a fundamental lack of respect for authority and elders.

I am not now, nor have I ever been perfect, but I knew how to act when I left the house. I didn't want to be that kid who showed her ass (a euphemism for showing off) in public or at school and give myself a "bad name". My mama and my grandma would have beat enough shades of black off of me to make me light skinneded as Vanessa Williams. Ok, I was being facetious with the Vanessa Williams part because they were by no means abusive, and in all honesty my spankings were few and far between.* I was raised to behave a certain way, and I adhered to it. I don't know HOW the younger generations are being raised these days, and I'm sure it's a sign of the apocalypse that a gen X-er even has to say that. Here's what I DO know: I'll be burned out before I even get my teacher's licence if I don't take the middle school off my list of preferred sites. (FYI: My transcripts are at the Department of Education even as we speak, so the wheels are in motion.) I don't get paid enough as a sub to put up with the behavior I'm confronted with at the middle school EVERY SINGLE TIME I go there. Teachers  certainly don't get paid enough to put up with it everyday. I say all of that to say, no middle school for the kid. Just NOPE.

*Even though I was spanked as a child and turned out friggin' AWESOME, I'm not a proponent of corporal punishment. Laying my hands on kids just isn't for me. SO DONT EVEN TRY TO SAY that this post is suggesting in any way that my "baddies" deserve beatings. That's not what I meant, and I'm not up for the bullshit.

Sub Adventures 4: Near Misses....

Some of my bloggiest moments (when I REALLY have a lot to say and want to write about it) usually come on nights before I have to sub. For me that is usually not an option because of my fear of oversleeping. Let me just tell you that I had a week of near misses towards the end of February, and I didn't even write the nights before. I still have chills thinking about it, but here's the story:

I live down country, in my grandma's house, the house that raised me. *insert heart emoticon* How far down country am I? Let me put it to you like this: I have NO LESS than a 20 minute drive to get to the nearest convenience store for gas or a pack of Nabs. (Google it, city slickers. We country mice already know what Nabs are.) The schools I choose to work at are at least a 30 minute drive for me; there is nothing closer. If I selected all of the elementary schools in the county--and I wish I could have, for more experience--there would be days that I'd have an hour drive to and from school. NOPE. When I'm on my way home from school in the afternoon, I get what I need to get while the getting is good because I AIN'T going back out of the house, except in case of medical emergencies...or the occasional nicotine fit.

I set 2 alarms for school: A standard battery powered clock and my cell phone. The clock is set for 5:45am, but my actual rise-n-shine time is 6:15am at the latest. I never actually get up and hop in the shower before 6:15. That early alarm buys me 30 minutes of "Lawd Jesus, WHY can't I win the lottery?!?!" time. Even though I love subbing, those years spent in retail hell--especially the last few leading up to my firement--have scarred me. The sound of my alarms triggers Pavlovian feelings of dread no matter what the alarm is for.

So for 2 days straight, I woke up at 7am!!!! That's the time when I'm usually moisturizing, getting dressed, and taking my rollers out of my hair! My survival--or LAWD-JESUS-I-CAN'T-GET-FIRED-FROM-THIS-JOB-TOO--instinct kicked in. I managed to get myself ready and out the door in 30 minutes, you know, normal people time. It usually takes me an hour because I putter and daydream, but I nipped that in the bud on those 2 days and got to school on time! Woo!