Is it Ten O'Clock yet?

Is it fair that it's only 8:00 and I'm pretty much ready for bed?

I'm so exhausted all the time. Physically, emotionally, spiritually--like the children come in the mornings and suck every living particle out of me until there is nothing left but a headache and some potentially potent illness-inducing germs.

And I'm lost. The first week was harried and out of whack--I literally found that every day was completely different with a completely different set of kids; we're not block scheduling. The half-days Wednesday on through Friday due to heat didn't help at all. Instead, the staff and students were all watching the clock for 10:50 a.m., and by Friday it felt that 10:50 a.m. took 6 hours to get there. And the kids took advantage of the crazy schedule, acting out and being rather outlandish.

I'm pretty positive that I slept over 30 hours this weekend while visiting Andrew in Rolla. The poor boy didn't have a chance to even hang out with me, unless it was napping with me in-between wake times.

And I'm lost. I'm lost because they keep adding and removing kids, sometimes I have 14, sometimes just one shows up. And I have no clue what to teach because I'm supposed to be teaching Achieve 3000 and Read 180 but no one has taught me anything about those programs, and I've been unable to make any headway with my questions regarding both programs; my poor mentor is being worked to death by the administrators to get the schedules up to par so that there's no more crazy schedules for the children, and she's been busy busy busy due to that. She's hopefully going to meet up with me tomorrow and get me some information regarding Read 180 so that I can at least begin that program. The kids can tell that I'm grasping at straws (I'm having them work on a concept map to map out their summer, so that they can use the ladder of abstraction to get to the juicy details... the only problem is that I'm working with kids with 3rd grade-below reading levels and half can't read or write!). I graduated with a degree in secondary education, English, and I've taken the middle school praxis--no one prepared me for students who couldn't read at the level they're supposed to be reading, damnit! I needed more classes in Special Education and elementary education!!

I hate hate hate being negative.

There are kids so wonderful that I'm left laughing all day from their antics. Goofing out and being silly, wonderful, beautiful children, and giving me hope that not all the kids I work with are hyper-sexualized little beings whose parents sell them off at the age of 14. (The Gypsy's parents sell off their daughters)

And then there are those that leave me pulling out my hair, wondering how to get their perverbial word vomit to cease, and leaving me giving "the stare" to those who can't seem to keep their attitudes in check.

I love my job. I really, truly, do. Sometimes I question my choice, but to me that's a wake-up call to remind myself that this is something I wanted to do, that I like to do.

But Jesus, help me. I'm drained.

A brief note

I just found out that one of my students--one of the 8th graders that gave me the biggest headache yesterday because of his non-stop chattering (MISS FRANKLIN I CAN'T READ I NEED YOUR HELP PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COME HERE) but seemed genuinely a good person--was in the Children's Army. He's apparently a trained fighter and has killed people before in his country, and he literally cannot read or write. He saw his family killed before him, and was handed a machine gun and told to fight for the rebel cause, like so many children of that country. He's apparently living in a home with no stability right now, and hardly gets meals let alone attention. If I need to find him, ever, I've been told to check the lunch room.

He's good natured, but talks SO MUCH, demanding your utmost attention. I thought he was "The Distracter;" the kid who distracts the teacher so the others can get off task, so I stood by him and read my book during the silent reading time, and continually tried to keep him on-task by telling him that until he could show me he was trying to read by sitting there for four minutes in silence (and staring at the book), I would then come and help him. It was really cute how he tried to show me he was trying. He would sit there and say, "Ms. Franklin. Look. Look at me. I'm trying. I'm trying can you please come help meeeeee." He wanted to borrow a book but I wouldn't let him, not knowing if whether I was going to see him in any of my other classes. When I saw him in the hall yesterday afternoon, I called to him, "Sky, if you want to borrow a book come and see me tomorrow!" He replied, "Thank you Miss Franklin!!!!" and ran out the door to his bus. I found out today that he's in my last hour.

I "felt" he was a nice person, he was just so damned annoying!

I just want to hug him.

Pictures of MY Classroom!!

First Day

My first day... how to put it? Beginning half was alright; harried and out of whack, but alright. I ended up taking some of the other classes off of the teacher's hands, since I technically didn't have any classes today since my students have to be tested into my course.

The sixth graders were WONDERFUL! I had them first and they were an absolute breeze and joy--terrified, sweet, and went along with everything I wanted them to do. Seventh grade tried me a little, but they knew their limits and actually apologized for being nutty a few times. Then I had lunch and relaxed, not that I needed to. But then came the 8th graders, the poster children of last year, apparently.

I wanted to shove books down their rotten little throats.

THEY WERE HORRIBLE!! Perfect little poster-children for the rotten core of America, and it made me wonder and wish why I ever wanted to become a teacher. One boy immediately threw attitude in my face when I asked him to get against the wall--"I am against a wall." Mr. Walker, the gym/health teacher and on my related arts team, had to ask him why he was giving me attitude. From the moment I got them they hated me with a passion, snickering and saying to each other, "She's a bitch. Damn straight, I can't stand her."

O.O I'd never met these kids, and they "hated" me already. I know part of it is because I'm new; they wanted to test the newbie. However, another part of me realizes it's just them being snotty kids. I just don't understand the snotty-factor! I don't remember ever being this shitty.

I yelled. I am not one to raise my voice, and I was hoping I wasn't going to have to. But it looks like I have to play it hard. I said, "I'm getting pretty sick of the disrespect you all are showing me. I asked you a simple thing--to read silently (only because they were so rude that I had to mellow them out before getting to be fun with them)--and what do I get in return? Talking. I'm not able to play games with you guys like I did my other classes because you can't even follow the simple instructions of reading silently. Until you can stop your chattering you get to sit here in silence and not play a fun game. It's your own grave, keep digging."

Eventually, by the end of the hour, I got to play hangman with them. It was a real challenge to get them to be quiet, but the moment it was truly silent--when I felt they were actually concentrating on being good--I asked them if they could handle a game of hangman. They did beautifully after that, up until the last 2-5 minutes of class time when they went bonkers again. But damn was it a challenge! And I was just so angry with them.

I have to think of it this way: I cleaned my classroom to my point of liking, and then I decorated and made it pretty. It took an entire week to do so, so what makes me think a single day of teaching will be any easier? I have to clean the kids to my liking, and then slowly let them decorate themselves to my liking--not too showy, but allowing them to display their feathers and personality.

Now, where's my broom?

Gotcha!!!

Last week I worked Picture Perfect, where we go around taking pictures of various places and things. One place was the Botanical Gardens, and we had the chance to go to the Children's garden.
A little girl walked up to me and said, "What's the Children's Garden?"
I replied, "It's the place where we plant little children."
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Last night I had to call parent to tell them to have their daughters bring their swimsuits to sewing camp (yes, for rizzle) because we decided to break up the day and allow the girls to swim to get some of their psycho energy out (they were about to eat one another's heads off after two days of being shut up in a tiny room in the YMCA, trying to sew). One little girl, a nine-year-old by the name of Emily, answered the phone. She has a really high-pitch sweet voice that makes your face melt.
"Emily?"
"Yeah."
"Bring your swimsuit tomorrow and for the rest of the week; tell your sister to do it too."
"...why? I thought we were just swimming on Thursday."
"We're going swimming all day for the rest of the week. So bring your suit."
"ALL DAY? So no more sewing?"
"No more sewing. Moochie (the seamstress) and I decided that we just couldn't take it anymore, and we just want to swim for the rest of the week. So, no more sewing."
"So... really? All day? Swimming? SWEET!"
"No, not really, but bring your swimsuit and don't forget to tell your sister!"
"UHHH, WHAT!? SHAUNA! HAHAHAH"
Soooo good.