Let me set the scene for all future blogs because I heard that's what a good writer does. Speaking of writers, I have absolutely none in my class. Did I mention that I'm the Writing teacher? Ironic? Oh well. For disclosure purposes I am reluctant to mention the grade that I am assigned to, so I won't tell you the number. What I will say is that my students are between the ages of 9 and 10, most of them, and that we will call this grade "cuatro". Allow me to introduce some characters that, in all likelihood, will have ongoing roles in this saga.
The first, and probably the most level-headed of all, we'll refer to as "Rock". This is not only because he's a big black guy, but it is also because he commonly refers to the student body as a box of rocks. If you know what that means, great. If you don't, I'm not telling. I'll tell you what it doesn't mean. It doesn't refer to the old adage "dumb as a box of rocks". Anyways, Rock and I are on the same team, and boy does that make me happy. He sure knows how to express the same sentiments as me, which is always comforting.
Then there's my school mama, "CeCe Ynan". I'll probably just call her CC so I don't have to remember how to spell her dang name. Anyways, she gets along so well with the rest of us men that I would be convinced that she is one. The only snag in my belief is that she has like 13 kids. She walk around here looking like the sequel to Cheaper By the Dozen. She is easily the loudest of the team, but she is also the only one that doesn't get chastised by the parents. I think it's because she is the only one of us that is not new. The parents are a blog of a different color. I will get to them.
Next is my dear friend and brother from another mother, "Jack". There was a show named after him on MTV, then a movie, and he was such an integral part of the entertainment industry that they made a sequel. He blogs as well, and for some reason he has decided to name me something unbefitting of my real name, which as you all know is Beloved. I'm returning the favor, buddy, returning the favor. He is one of those guys that you grow to love and hate simultaneously (more so the latter), but regardless of how you feel, he will keep you entertained.
The three of them, plus myself, make up the team known as cuatro. Woe is us.
One more character introduction for the night. This lady, "Luby", is like 2 days older than me, but she isn't all that adept in her math skills, so she often gets confused and thinks we're like 8 years apart. On any given day I am inclined to ask her how's the air up there because she wears the stilts that she tries to convince me are shoes. Beloved knows better, Luby. About Luby: she is shorter than she looks without her "heels", but tall nonetheless, with very pretty hair (some of you know my deal). She is also very kind with a pinch of attitude. Just ask Jack how much of a pinch. She is not a member of team cuatro, but somehow we allowed her to wear the honorary patch. Everybody wants to be with the beasts. But you can't bark with the big dogs and pee like a puppy...or something like that. I digress. Luby is very outspoken and opinionated, which is a double-edged sword, but it generally works out. She also slid siamese twins down her birth canal. What an amazing feat. Ok, I kid. They are fraternal twins.
All in all, Luby and the rest of the crew make my time at the halfway school a pleasant experience. I keep them in line the best way that I know how, and that is by simply being Beloved and supporting them in their various endeavors.
The purpose of this much anticipated blog is to keep stress down, by having inside jokes at the expense of the residents at this halfway school. The immediate purpose is so that I can tell you about this group of students that we service. We have our kids grouped according to ability. Those with a bit of sense are all paired together so that they are not held back by others, and those lacking sense make my arse itch. What that means is that we have at least one whole group of insolent, rambunctious, repugnant students that leave me with a headache. They leave CC with 2 headaches because her head is bigger than the rest of ours.
So about this insolent group. Each group has a number, 1 through 4, and to conceal their identity, I won't give their number. We'll just call them Group For. The cast of characters in this group is widely varying. We have Precious' little brother, reprising the role of "Treasure", who smells like the smelliest part of a septic tank, which is the entire thing. I mean, if I wanted to call him BooBoo, it would be justified. In fact, he smells so much like booboo that we should sue Yogi for stealing that name from us. Anyways, he isn't the star of this blog, so how dare he try to take it over. That's the same thing Terrance Howard tried to do in Iron Man, which is why he was replaced by Don Cheadle. I still can't believe HE was War Machine. I digress again. Don't forget about Treasure...he'll be back.
The star of this blog is also the smartest person in Group For, in fact, he should not be in this God-forsaken group, except that he crazy as hell. Jack refers to him as "Opportunity", so I'll go with that unless I find something more representative of him, like a picture of me choking myself in frustration. Well I, being the sensitive, Beloved teacher that I am, have tried to take Opportunity under my wings to keep him out of trouble. He has these outbursts, followed closely by fits, that resemble seizures. I mean he falls out on the floor and turns in to this 73.5 pound bull. The other day I carried him from my portable classroom to the Warden's office, while he bucked and reached for poles, bucked and reached for poles (lather, rinse, repeat). So we're coming down the hall and he is just kicking and screaming, but he can't get away from me. We get up to the office and he is clawing at the door and screaming. The attendance lady yells from the other side, "Who is that knocking, Opportunity?" I said yes, but the crazy one, not the one that offers advancement and self-fulfillment.
Now that was last week. Today he has a similar meltdown in the hall, just before he is to come in my room. All I hear is someone screaming from the other side of the wall, "AAAHHHHHH...AHHHHHH!!!!" "Is that Opportunity at my door", I asked. The kids confirmed and all I could do was shake my head. My friend, Moesha, came to visit today, and she witnessed it first hand. I hope she doesn't think we're too crazy, but she just might. I got these kids from CC's class at 2:20. School gets out at 3:15. Ask me how long they actually worked on the lesson. "How long did they work on the lesson?" I'm glad you asked. Well we started at 3:05, and of course we started packing up about 3:11 or so. We worked on our lesson for about 6 minutes, but a productive 6 minutes it was.
Now ask me what we were doing for the rest of that time. "What were you doing for the rest of that time?" Good question! The answer: I can't even remember. The point: I don't want to remember. The reason: I went home with a headache because these clowns cannot and will not work. Yesterday they spent the entire period outside of the classroom because I passed them back the tests (which nobody in the class received 70 or above on) and they stood there laughing and playing. Oh...ok. No worries, it's just your future.
What's the moral of my story? Aspiring educators, run far away from this profession. Ok, don't do that. Believe it or not, I may tell a story one day that expresses the gratifying moments that teaching offers. Until that day, do like Kevin Hart and laugh at my pain.
-Beloved-
