Monday, April 27, 2009
Little Darlings
I taught my fifth and sixth graders again on Saturday, and I can officially say that I've now lost any and all reservations about hating a child. They are all little monsters. Each and every one of them. I am keeping very careful track of all of their names because I feel certain I will see them on Chicago's Most Wanted some day. Unless, that is, some overwhelmed educator decides to take them out some day. Although we as a nation typically do not condone child murder, I feel relatively certain a jury would deadlock in this case.
In the course of just three hours I had children talking compulsively and without ceasing, throwing protractors and markers, tearing up handouts into tiny pieces, attempting to set overhead transparencies on fire, running in circles around the perimeter of the classroom, and threatening to jump out the window. Oh, and telling me that I was "fake." That was the part that hurt most of all. I consider myself to be 100% genuine around eleven year olds.
The lesson was on drug testing, which you would think would be an absorbing enough topic. But I think I could actually drug test these children personally and they would still not find it particularly diverting. Unless I could get Madea to do it. She's rather a popular figure.
We only have one class left. I'm seriously thinking about just popping in a movie. Or some Valium. Either way, it's definitely entertainment.
I taught my fifth and sixth graders again on Saturday, and I can officially say that I've now lost any and all reservations about hating a child. They are all little monsters. Each and every one of them. I am keeping very careful track of all of their names because I feel certain I will see them on Chicago's Most Wanted some day. Unless, that is, some overwhelmed educator decides to take them out some day. Although we as a nation typically do not condone child murder, I feel relatively certain a jury would deadlock in this case.
In the course of just three hours I had children talking compulsively and without ceasing, throwing protractors and markers, tearing up handouts into tiny pieces, attempting to set overhead transparencies on fire, running in circles around the perimeter of the classroom, and threatening to jump out the window. Oh, and telling me that I was "fake." That was the part that hurt most of all. I consider myself to be 100% genuine around eleven year olds.
The lesson was on drug testing, which you would think would be an absorbing enough topic. But I think I could actually drug test these children personally and they would still not find it particularly diverting. Unless I could get Madea to do it. She's rather a popular figure.
We only have one class left. I'm seriously thinking about just popping in a movie. Or some Valium. Either way, it's definitely entertainment.
