Updates first. Griffin, while he still gets on my nerves and still needs a haircut, has turned into a near-likeable kid. I say near because...well I still don't really like him. That may just be my general disdain for his early actions consuming my brain. Anyways, last week he took tests in 2 of my classes and was told to get them both signed. On the Language Arts, he got a 45 or something else that would be a high point total, if we were playing football. How you get a 45 on the easiest grammar test ever ASSembled, I don't know. Anyways, he got a 70 on his Reading test, which is remarkably improved from his earlier work. Tell me why this niggra comes back to school with the 45 signed, accompanied by a long note from his mother that said how unacceptable it was and how she would continue to work with him. I appreciate concern from parents when I know it's genuine. Is it genuine? Your guess is as good as mine. So I asked young Griffin where his Reading test was, to which he replied, "What Reading test?' Naturally, that meant it wasn't signed. This is what made me realize that he is just dumb as a box of rox and he really doesn't behave this way intentionally. The boy lost the test with probably the best grade he's ever gotten, couldn't even remember what grade he got on it, then gave his mama a test grade of 45 to sign. I shoulda slapped him in his mouth, but his teeth protrude and they sharp as daggers.
Professor Charles is no longer causing discipline problems, but I tell you what...he's getting dumber by the minute. And I think I smelled unsterilized urine on his breath when I was helping him read the word "hat". You shouldn't be allowed to read words that make the "h" sound when your breath smells like donkey sweat. He breathes, and it smells like ass...thma. Anyways, maybe he'll be introduced to the toothbrush...and the word "hat" one day. As his Reading teacher, I think the latter would be my job, but last time I turned water into wine, my alcoholic teammate, Gobment, stepped in and drowned her sorrows, my sorrows, the sorrows of a small country in crisis known as the United States, and the sorrows of the infinite names she possesses in said wine...and some taka vodka...and a little patron. But that's what old people do...keep the good stuff to themselves and leave you with the cheap version, or the taka. She learned that in these last 53 years of service time to the world.
I finally heard something that I've never heard, at least in real life. This girl, who is insignificant in the grander scheme of things, came to my class without her homework a couple weeks back. Dare I say that she was the only one in the entire class that didn't have it? I dare say it, but yall know it aint true. There were 2 people that didn't bring it back. I wasn't totally offended by her not having it because if everybody did everything they are supposed to do, what would I have to write about? I went through the customary process of inquiring as to the presence of her being, yet the absence of her assignment. Luckily, she had a really good reason for not having her homework completed and in class. Her dog ate it. I have never laughed so hard in a classroom, with a class full of kids, even when I was a kid. I laughed so hard, as I made the universally understood sign for "zero" (0), which is nothing but the biggest circle my arm can make. It was funny. So apparently, people will use that excuse from time to time. It just seems so antiquated.
Speaking of old, why did Gobment come up to the school talkin bout she done added some new names to her repertoire? I mean...collecting names like they baseball cards. I'm so tired of her and her foolishness. She said these are for that new split in her personality, as apparently now she's up to 10 people...sharing one brain...and it shows. Anyways, Rush Hour 3 was made, inspired, by her and her names. Every time she gets a new set, they write them on this list, called "Shy Shen". This is what the list looks like.
Now, allow me to introduce you to a new character. We will call her Baajing (Baa is pronounced "bay"). She has 2 eyes, but they could talk, you know they'd be arguing because they can never agree on which way they wanna look. I personally find her to be a hideously constructed creature. And don't get me started how ugly she is, or how much of a female dog she is. It's unbeweaveable how much, or how little, I can care about some of these kids. To this day, 7 weeks after the commencement of the school year, she is yet to answer any question I have asked her as it relates to correcting her behavior or her abysmal grades. AND she's not cute. These are the people that end up as cheap garden tools. Why? Because obviously she doesn't know anything (I'm not convinced that she has a functional brain), she is urgly (auto correct tried to change the way I spelled that, but the 'r' tells you just how ugly), and she doesn't even have any people skills. That is a recipe for disaster. One day, I was tired of her acting out and pretending she runs anything besides the train, which will inevitably be run on her, so I asked her why she could not conform to the standards that each other student is held to. If I ever want her to be quiet, obviously all I have to do is ask her a question. She still has not answered my question...like I'm still waiting. Yet I am supposed to pretend to care about her? That's horse droppings. No, instead, I lined my entire class up, and we walked her down to the 1st grade wing together, before returning to class. She sat in first grade all day, went to P.E. with them and everything. It is said that she interacts well with them. Well that's because those 1st graders are probably age appropriate tutors for her. You want proof of that, you say? She did 1st grade work, and quite a bit of it was incorrect. Yet, and still, she is in the 4th grade. How do you justify that? My arse is beginning to itch.
Oh, Cuervo. We will keep him short and sweet today. Being short is already customary for him, but the sweet thing will be a...it will be....a lie. I have largely grown unaffected by his antics of idiocy and discombobulation. I actually sat and talked to him yesterday, in the presence of another of our amazingly flustered educators, Macy. She rocks the Dr. J fro, and she uses big words in meetings because she is sooooo smart. She also knows my brother, Jack, and for some reason, without a gun held to her head, would speak to him regularly. Oops, I'm supposed to be talking about Cuervo. We had an interesting conversation, which was the result of a binder falling off of his desk in my class. His response, "What the hell?!" Audibly, and without remorse, he uttered these words. How could I do anything but chuckle internally. See if a teacher were to use profanity, they would either have his job or drag out the situation as long as humanly possible. But a child who curses is protected under the "That's your fault, that's classroom management, why wasn't he engaged in purposeful learning" clause.
Or as I like to call it, the "this is what you can do" clause.
And speaking of gay boys, I have 2 more girls to tell you about. One is named "Skipper" and the other is named "Giggles". As far as I know, both Skipper and Giggles have male genitalia, but you wouldn't be able to tell by their actions. Skipper is always skipping through the halls, classroom, bathroom, lunchroom, office, and probably male genitalia of Giggles. Giggles, well first of all he stinks (a very musty smell), and second he is always giggling. He giggles when he makes answers questions in class, he giggles in line in the hallway, he giggles on the playground, and it's very likely that he giggles on the genitalia of Skipper. They try to throw us off the trail by always being at one another's throats. Poor choice of words, or pun intended? They argue like female dogs. When we do restroom break, I take all of the 4th grade boys, while Gobment and Too Tall Jones take all the girls on the other end. I told Skipper and Giggles on Wednesday that they were not allowed to take restroom break with us until they start acting like us. Until that time, they could take restroom break with Gobment and Too Tall. Friday, they continued to behave like cats, having cat fights. Because that's what cats do. I told them to cease with the cat fights because they were bothering me.
Skipper: (under his breath) I aint no cat.
Giggles: (much more audibly and accompanied by giggling) Me either *insert gay giggle here*
Beloved: (visibly annoyed) Then quit actin like it.
Gobment: (dropping her walker on the floor) HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Hopefully, this will not persist, but I am preparing myself for the worst, like Noah did. In the mean time, I promise not to let these blogs lapse too long. I left out a good 4 stories in the interest of time and because I have to go act like a big kid at this party for one of my soccer kids. Until next time, stay away from cheap whores, female dogs that aren't females, cussing kids, fawnk breath little niggras, and people whose dogs eat paper...construction paper no less.
Be to the Loved.
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