Here I am again, staring at this white screen, with the intent to fill it up in such a manner that I am able to express myself to those who may be reading. Much to say on this day, as I apparently am not so Beloved in the eyes of some. But before I get to my ridiculously jam packed hour in which I realized that some people prefer their coffee "Beloved free", I'll give a quick update on the new halfway school.
It's crazy how each institution has its own quirks, yet at the end of the day, crazy is the universal thing. I've got a Charles update. He has officially made his way entirely off of my ish list, maybe the first in this blog's short history to accomplish such a feat. Unfortunately, he would still qualify for any discussion we have about boxes of rocks, but at least his attitude is in check. He does have a brain, I think. It just serves little purpose in my room. This is how it works. There are 2 teachers, Gobment and myself. Strictly speaking, his test results are far superior in the subject area that Gobment teachers. However, he still has no practical value in my class, other than that he keeps the crows away. And he's got a low center of gravity, which is just a nice way of saying that he's so short he has to get the librarian to get books off of the bottom shelf for him.
Griffin is still a HAN. I would tell you what that means, but I don't use that type of language. Although I fully plan on using that type of language in just a few short paragraphs. Anyways, I won't waste valuable space on the blog beating a dead horse to death. We all know he's crazy. And his yellow teeth have been known to illuminate my classroom, with the lights on and the blinds open. Them thangs sharp too...look like the top of a picket fence. The way they protrude from his mouth, it's in describable. But I'll try anyways. It looks like his teeth are giving his top lip the heisman. Ok enough about that little ugly niggra. Time for my most customary Gobment joke of the day. She got more names than the Dallas Cowboys' preseason roster. I be like got dang!
Let's talk new characters. Let me tell you about Danica "Puff", she who makes me think twice about Swift's Modest Proposal (this is a piece that advocates the cannibalism of children). Clear satire, but I think he may have been on to something. This dumb arse...asks so many dumb arse questions. On top of that, she craves attention...probably a whore too, but that's just speculation. We'll call her an attention whore anyways. So I'm asking a very straightforward question about what ideas they have as far as classroom rules. By simple, I mean "What do you think classroom rule number 4 should be?" Do you know this WHORE (of attention) raised her hand, and when called on, said "My papa is the crossing guard up here." If you've ever seen me try to keep a straight face, you know that my face was anything but straight. It was frowned up somethin serious. I diffused that situation and decided to roll with her punches. Did I mention her micro braids, or whatever the flyin f they are that go down to her knee pit? She looks like her actual hair would be nappy, as indicated by the naps present in her braids. Well she has micro braids, on a macro head, with a micro brain, yet a macro mouth. She all messed up. Well we were talking about changing and growing and I mentioned that I'm sure some of them had grown over the summer, gotten taller, hair got longer. That whore met her match though, when she said "Yeah, my hair is LONG!" This other female dog that be talkin a lot, who is insignificant to the blog outside of this fact, has really long, silky smooth hair. She's a mutt. Mutt says, "That's not even yo hurr (direct quote)."I would have said something to her about classroom etiquette, but it was a true statement. AND she set herself up for that one. She asks so many off topic questions that I finally just told her that she's not permitted to talk to me, hand raised or not. This blog is long!
Ok, stay with me, so I can tell you how bitches be trippin. Went to our championship softball game last night, which we lost. Unfortunate, yet incredibly irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. What's not irrelevant is that I nearly got kicked out by an umpire who takes his night job way more seriously than Cocoa down at the strip club. He kept warning my team that we had too many men out of the dugout. I was NEVER one of the ones receiving the warning, yet I made one joke about him sucking, just like my girlfriend (Hardball reference) and he told me that he would take his last warning really seriously. That totally stifled my creativity, and subsequently, may have been the reason we lost. That, and he did legitimately suck.
So after the game, we're all walking out and I'm not bitter about the loss because, well, it's softball. I was just still in disbelief that this umpire had no sense of humor. This is when I found out that Beloved aint chit in some people's eyes. I was telling teammates that I was disappointed that I had to end up getting a warning without even saying a word, which kept me from being able to say most of the stuff I would normally say, when the wife, girlfriend, tramp, pornstar, whatever she is, of one of my teammates yells, emphasize YELLS, out the following. "It don't matter you shoulda just shut the f*ck up then and you wouldn't have to worry about it. Just shut the f*ck up like you tell your kids with all that bullish*t." My initial thought was "how does she know that I tell the kids that?" Ok, that wasn't my initial thought because it was actually "Bitch who the hell are you and what impact have you had on this team?" Had I said that, however, I would not have been Beloved. I kept it cordial, strictly out of respect for my teammate, and I let her get her shine. As if she hasn't already had enough. She look like a lock to be on 16 and Pregnant or Teen Mom or Real Sex or one of them shows that would accentuate her hookerish disposition and her trashy appearance. She was foul for that, but hey, what can you say? At least I had taken my blood pressure medicine that day because that woulda been one of those "close to the edge" statements. Proof that bitches be trippin'.
That wraps up this edition. Blogs get more and more obscure, as I do more lesson planning, LOs, DOLs, LOLs, LMAOs and all kinda little stuff. Then they wanna say we should extend the school day and year even more. These folks is crazy. Life goes on. Til next time-
-CantevensignmynameBelovedbecauseapparentlyitsnottrue
Friday, September 14, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Beloved, III
3.0, Trilogy, Numero Tres, and so on, and so on. For some strange reason, I've this propensity for making decisions that force the reverberation of torturous regimes, far and wide. In layman'a terms, I keep going to these halfway schools, of which I know nothing will ensue, aside from utter foolishness that could be likened only to a low-level concentration camp. Unfortunately, concentration is not high on the kids' priority list. We could actually call it an un-concentration camp...un-concentrated camp. Something. Nonetheless, school is officially in, and I've been in a bit of an Ebenezer Scrooge-ish mood. So I'll be giving an update on some of these clowns of characters, my life as a softball player, and general quips of nothingness.
Sidenote: As much as I enjoy a good Yoda monologue, I also enjoy a good Spock monologue. Not a big Star Trek fan either, but that guy sure knows how to put his words together.
Ok, so let me tell you about these clowns. As predicted, Griffin and Professor Charles have reprised roles in this ongoing debauchery of a saga. Ironically, I may have misjudged Charles, in my haste to have material suitable for a blog. It is also entirely possible that I did not misjudge him but have grown accustomed to his insolent, yet markedly less disruptive, antics. Either way, he has shown himself to be a valuable asset. Not intellectually, of course, because...well. But he works well with others, specifically one student who requires special attention. I have a bit of a soft spot for kids who show compassion for those unable to help themselves, so he is well on his way to getting out of my over-sized doghouse.
His companion, however, shall remain. This boy is the epitome of *insert something ingrown that annoys people*. He's like that booty hair you just can't get the turd off of (those are called dingleberries btw). I also call them booty chips. He's like that one track that's coming unglued but you don't wanna try to fix it because then you'll mess up another one. He's like that lace front wig.......well, he's like all lace front wigs. Am I the only one that thinks "track", in its context for this blog, should be spelled in a way that indicates its utterly and inappropriately ghetto clients? Traque, trakk, t'rack...or we could add the quintessential marking of niggacentric presence. La', Sha', or D'-track. I digress. Little Griffin has this smirk, this permanent smile in the midst of wrongdoing, that is exponentially less endearing than that of the Joker. Why less endearing? For one, the Joker's teeth were straight. His look like an open accordion, which is ironic because they don't appear as if they've ever been on one accord. The Joker's were also white. Look like somebody just slung glued corn in his mouth and told him to smile. Urgh. I am generally disgusted by his reaction to correction, but I have learned to deal with him. Now, if only he weren't so unintelligent. Can't win em all.
Remarkably, he is NOT number one on Uncle Mike's s*** list (Bad Boys II reference). He was swiftly, and DECISIVELY, passed up by a classmate of his. We'll call him "Cuervo". No, that does not indicate the drunken stupor with which he presents himself to others, however it fits as well. Talk about defiant...talk about a clown...talk about someone who has no regard for rules, regulations, authority. If God told him to "enter in" he would jump down to hell just because he doesn't want anybody telling him what to do for a period to extend beyond a few seconds. I was feeling like I missed something, like I was the only one ready to slam him, when my esteemed colleague, Gobment, confirmed that she shared similar sentiments. Little Cuervo's list of character flaws includes, but is not limited to:
Sidenote: As much as I enjoy a good Yoda monologue, I also enjoy a good Spock monologue. Not a big Star Trek fan either, but that guy sure knows how to put his words together.
Ok, so let me tell you about these clowns. As predicted, Griffin and Professor Charles have reprised roles in this ongoing debauchery of a saga. Ironically, I may have misjudged Charles, in my haste to have material suitable for a blog. It is also entirely possible that I did not misjudge him but have grown accustomed to his insolent, yet markedly less disruptive, antics. Either way, he has shown himself to be a valuable asset. Not intellectually, of course, because...well. But he works well with others, specifically one student who requires special attention. I have a bit of a soft spot for kids who show compassion for those unable to help themselves, so he is well on his way to getting out of my over-sized doghouse.
His companion, however, shall remain. This boy is the epitome of *insert something ingrown that annoys people*. He's like that booty hair you just can't get the turd off of (those are called dingleberries btw). I also call them booty chips. He's like that one track that's coming unglued but you don't wanna try to fix it because then you'll mess up another one. He's like that lace front wig.......well, he's like all lace front wigs. Am I the only one that thinks "track", in its context for this blog, should be spelled in a way that indicates its utterly and inappropriately ghetto clients? Traque, trakk, t'rack...or we could add the quintessential marking of niggacentric presence. La', Sha', or D'-track. I digress. Little Griffin has this smirk, this permanent smile in the midst of wrongdoing, that is exponentially less endearing than that of the Joker. Why less endearing? For one, the Joker's teeth were straight. His look like an open accordion, which is ironic because they don't appear as if they've ever been on one accord. The Joker's were also white. Look like somebody just slung glued corn in his mouth and told him to smile. Urgh. I am generally disgusted by his reaction to correction, but I have learned to deal with him. Now, if only he weren't so unintelligent. Can't win em all.
Remarkably, he is NOT number one on Uncle Mike's s*** list (Bad Boys II reference). He was swiftly, and DECISIVELY, passed up by a classmate of his. We'll call him "Cuervo". No, that does not indicate the drunken stupor with which he presents himself to others, however it fits as well. Talk about defiant...talk about a clown...talk about someone who has no regard for rules, regulations, authority. If God told him to "enter in" he would jump down to hell just because he doesn't want anybody telling him what to do for a period to extend beyond a few seconds. I was feeling like I missed something, like I was the only one ready to slam him, when my esteemed colleague, Gobment, confirmed that she shared similar sentiments. Little Cuervo's list of character flaws includes, but is not limited to:
- failure to walk in a straight line
- lack of desire to face forward AND shut up in line
- inability to listen intently to instructions (which the jury is still out on)
- disruptive comments
- talking to hear himself talk
- wanting to enter into clown school as a profession
- being ugly
- being short
- not being gifted intellectually
- uncouth
- unscrupulous
- without morals
Naturally, kids find amusement in some of his jokes, but not all. That's not his gimmick. He likes to make outlandish comments and pose ridiculous questions to see if he can elicit a response from myself and/or his classmates. Most of them will do anything to get on the teacher's good side, so they try to respond for me. I think they are starting to pick up on the fact that he has them in the palms of his hands. This is why I say the jury is still out on his comprehension of instructions. I will say something, and he will (5 seconds later) ask if he can, or is supposed to, do the complete opposite. Even when I show him examples of the task I want completed, he asks these stupid questions. Friday, I decided that I would not be able to hold my tongue much longer. "Don't talk to me" was the command I gave. Any time he spoke to me after that, his response was the same. I will be visiting his living accommodations expeditiously. That should get me the permission that I currently seek.
Enough about stupidity, I mean the kids...wait, I mean stupidity. My band of misfits, as well as myself, are tired. Real tired! You wanna know why? There have been changes made in our routine as educators. We are required to serve extra time, like OJ, each day after we are done in the trenches each day. I know I'm fairly new to the profession, but usually, teachers spend time after school straightening and preparing for each upcoming day. Yeah...not happening. The days are so long. So long that I actually spent a good portion of my Saturday preparing my classroom because I was just that far behind. I'd complain, but meetings with the new "in charge" people are often little more than broadway productions and collections of resources (clips) combined to form an entire movie series. It's enough for a brother to start drinking again. I'm a full 2 weeks sober and now this. If I do start drinking again, I'll have to hit up Gobment, who apparently lives at a distillery. She stay drinking somethin. I think she may have more bottles in her house than she does names, which is a feat in and of itself. Take that back. While she has a bar that rivals "Cheers", where everybody knows her name, she also has more names than Santa's naughty list. I mean I guess she just believes in bulk...alcohol by the bulk, names by the bulk's bulk. I should just start calling her Sam's Club.
That's all for now. I have sleep to achieve, lesson plans to create, food to eat, old people jokes to perfect, tv to watch, monologues to read, inappropriate stories to tell my classes......not all in that order. We are also starting up soccer, and softball playoffs are coming up a week from now. I'm plenty busy. I wish I could clone myself 12 times and borrow only a small portion of the names old woman Gobment is currently occupying.
Post script-I was able to sit at the house for much of yesterday, after 2 o'clock, without muttering a single sound until this morning. It was amazing. I really appreciate the silence. You should try it some time.
Be to the loved
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)