If there are kids present, put em to bed. Or at least keep them away from the screen because I'm holding nothing back on this long overdue installment. Allow me to tell you all why I hate standardized tests. First of all, they can't tell me nothin about MY kids that I don't already know. Second, for whatever reason, we still suck as a state at education. I think the only people worse at educating the youth are Oklahoma (obviously) and home schools of families that live on the street. Third, these units of "measurement", known as standardized tests, perpetuate the trippin that bitches be doin. Bitches be trippin so much that my title abandoned the use of the Beloved moniker that is always used, in some form, for the first time in blog history. But this bitch gotta learn.
So my faithful followers have been asking when the blog would be back. I've been giving it some thought; my decision was that I really had not a lot to write about. Things have, more or less, been quiet at the halfway school. Well I'm pleased to report...that is no longer the case. I could probably blog every day that I am at school from this point forward. Hmm...that's a thought. Perhaps I will become an engine of chaos for that exact purpose. These bitches gotta learn. Naturally, by "these bitches gotta learn", you can infer that I mean 'this bitch gotta learn'.
I'll start here: Anybody that knows anything about the school "system" knows that we've this test to prepare the kids for, which is a completely different issue for me. This test--is a mutha sucka. The level of difficulty of this test, compared to the previous test, is ridiculous! So ridiculous, in fact, that the standards for passing these tests in most subjects is in the 50s or low 60s. Imagine if all we needed to pass a class was a 55. That woulda been crazy. Anyways, in light of the emphasis on testing, you get niggas everywhere acting crazier than they ever have. Here's the kicker though. They continue to ramp up the rigor of these tests, which puts the educators at a disadvantage, yet the kids are literally getting dumber. How?
None of these kids ever get held back. Let's face it; being held back is a sign of weakness that no parent wants to subject their child to, whether they need it or not. My maternal grandfather was retained...back in 1st grade, I believe. The teacher told his mama he wasn't ready, and she said keep him where he is until he is ready. My grandfather took that extra year and made up for the deficiencies that he had, went on to finish school without any other major hitches, and became an accomplished music teacher and eventual counselor. That requires both an undergraduate and postgraduate degree. But he was retained. Who gives a chit?
Let me tell you how to retain a kid. Bribe somebody with power. And by bribe, I mean sell your soul to the devil, no refund, sign your name with the blood of a 40-year-old virgin whore with a pen made from the horn of a unicorn, then put ink on the scrotum of an uncircumcised Leprechaun to notarize the document. Or...you could bring forth work samples for the entire year, along with a significant number of failing report card grades (we're only allowed to fail 10% of a class which adds up to 1 person for me), suggest retention before the committee, which then needs to be approved for the student to go to summer school. Now, if anybody knows anything about summer school, it practically ensures that you move on to the next grade. In the event that everything in place happens, the parent still has the right to refuse the student retention and win. Who wants to go through all of that chit? Not I. What does that mean? The standardized tests are getting harder, but as a student, it's easier to pass. That irks me, as it sets me up for the remainder of this blog and why this bitch gotta learn.
I don't know what yall seem to enjoy more. The misadventures of my ever-ridiculous class or a good story chronicling the struggle between good and evil, of which I'm still uncertain of my role. Lucky for you, this is a double feature. It was a school day, like any other. Except that it was a Thursday, and sometimes school is on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, hell...even Saturday, much to my chagrin. The story begins during my planning period, which we might as well rename "random unscheduled meeting in which the aura of bitchiness is emitted upon my presence" period. That name is probably too long, and you wouldn't wanna use a name that long around the kids. It was during this period that I learned my fate for next school year. The bitch known as Tractor called us into the office individually, where she told me that I would be teaching 5th grade Reading. Now if you're one of my faithful followers, you know that I currently teach 4th grade Reading and Writing. It's been a couple of years since I taught Math, but the number after 4 is 5, I think. That means, yes, I will be moving up with my current crop of kids. My first reaction? "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" After I left the office of course. My secondary, more rational reaction? I thought about it, and I considered what I have been telling adults that I've come in contact with. My kids are not that bad. I could stand to lose a couple of them, but all in all, they are pretty good. That's actually the reason I rarely have anything to tell you all. I find myself enjoying my students. I never figured that would be the case lol.
Last year, my kids were, by comparison, little spawns of satan. In fact, the class was probably comprised of 70% children of Tractor, seeing as how she is a direct descendent of Beelzebub himself. Beelzebub is like French or something for devil...or maybe it's Jewish. Just kidding, it's definitely Ebonics. As I was saying, the kids were terrible. But looking back at them, it's quite possible that I miss 85-90% of them. My former colleagues would probably slap me for saying so, but true it is.
So upon receiving the news that I now knew of my new assignment, I went back to class, where I gave the kids their writing prompt for the day. "Write about the subject you have enjoyed the most this school year and why." It was a simple assignment, and its intent was to find out if they learned ANYTHING from ANYBODY this school year. I like to read the papers as they write, something called monitoring. Naturally, I learned that from somebody else because I couldn't possibly have any knowledge of how to work with kids. One student writes about why they enjoyed Math, and how they learned to divide big numbers, and how proud that makes them. Another writes about gym, and how they appreciate the value of exercise (plus they don't have to read or write or compute to do it). Then I approach the desk of one we will call Butter. Butter is this sweet little girl that came to us from another school in perhaps early March. It's funny because Gobment really can't stand her, but she's quickly become one of my favorites, if teachers had favorites of course. Paraphrasing, but Butter writes that she loves Reading because you get to get lost in books, and they're interesting, and she has the best Reading teacher, Mr. Beloved. She also said she hasn't been here long, but it feels like he's taught her everything. Obviously, that may be a bit hyperbolic, more so than even she knows. But the combination of that touching sentiment and the fact that everyone's writing was so thoughtful and improved gave me a chill. My mood at this point was so great that NOTHING could damper it. (The use of all caps on 'nothing' is what us English nerds would refer to as foreshadowing. Foreshadowing basically just gives us a glimpse of actions still to come. What do you all think is going to take place later?)
If you guessed anything that starts, ends, or contains at all the words THIS BITCH in succession, pat yourself on the back. Or if you wanna substitute that pat on the back, you can go find Tractor and tea bag her for me. So about 3 o'clock, I got word that scores for this enormously critical test could be viewed online. As little as I really care about these things, my heart still dropped a bit just because of the potential ramifications of a lack of success. I got online, I viewed, I was a bit disappointed, but I wasn't 'irrational tirade' disappointed. Why? I looked at the scores from the same students from last year, and they all showed growth from the previous year, most showing some significant leaps and jumps (remind me to tell you about Danica later). I can live with that.
Still, we get the call to come down to the office after school to talk about our scores. I'll set the scene. Gobment and I head down to the office. It takes a long time because her prune juice sends her frequently to the restroom. After a brief intermission we resume our mission to Tractor's office, where Tractor is waiting with our academic coordinator.
Tractor: Hi, you all. Have you had a chance to look at your scores?
Unison: We were kinda still looking.
Tractor: *excuses Gobment to go resume looking at her scores and tells me to sit down.*
Have you looked at your scores?
Beloved: *in my head* Bitch what did I just say? *out loud* I was still looking at them.
Tractor: Well can I just be honest with you?
Beloved: (Pauses) I'm listening.
I feel compelled to explain the scores first so that you are not confused or asking questions during my presentation...I hate that chit. So the two tests that I was responsible for were Reading and Writing. The scores ended up very similar. Of my roster, I ended up with 75% passing for each. Now, 3 of my students that passed will not count for me because they were at other schools. What that means is that my scores will eventually be recalculated, totaling about 71% for each. Not great, but.....well let's just get back to the story.
When we last left off, I was telling this bitch that I was listening. This is a line I use commonly when I have a genuine disdain for an individual.
Tractor: Beloved (yeah, she really did call me by my first name), you haven't added any value to these kids at all. Mrs. Tyler is devastated because she has never had a percentage this low for writing, and that's all your fault because you forced us to bring her in. If she hadn't helped out, it would have been lower than that.
By the way, this dialogue is actually a monologue because I didn't say a damn word throughout the entire conversation. She just wanted to hear herself talk, and I let her because I didn't know what was going to come out of my mouth. At any rate, in my mind, I was thinking that she shouldn't be devastated because they aren't her scores, they're mine. And don't gimme that "you forced her" because she does the same thing every year. I've only been there for one, so I don't know how I necessarily forced her.
Tractor (cont.): You know, you walk around here like everything is all hunky dory and like you don't have a care in the world, but you should be devastated. You don't take anything seriously and this is what happens because of that. You have failed these students, and you have failed this school.
PAUSE!! Let me just tell you how bad I wanted to reach across the table and slap that bitch. The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't wanna get makeup all over my hands. This bitch come to school everyday lookin like a powdered donut. I don't even know her real skin tone because she gets her makeup supply from the clown store...that or the damn art supply store. You can say a lot of things about my apathetic demeanor, as I'm sure I do appear not to care about things, but you better make sure you never take a low blow like that. You don't know how much I care about these kids; you have no fuckin idea. You don't even know half of my kids, so get yo ass on somewhere. So I proceeded to look at her sideways for the remainder of the conversation. Literally, I rested my right ear on my right shoulder. My head was completely sideways.
Tractor: We got 75% in Math, so you should have at least been able to get in the 80s. (In my defense, Gobment has at least 50 years of teaching experience on me, so that's not fair.) I moved you up to 5th grade because I couldn't move you any lower (my certifications are 4-12). If you can't get it together with these kids, I will do everything I can to get you out of here. So if I were you, I would start looking for another job.
Beloved (head turned sideways thinks to himself): Bitch, do you want the address to my blog? I want out as bad as you want me out. Don't do me no favors. I bet you think this conversation is hurting my feelings...it's not. I actually feel sorry for you. You need a 'just in case' scapegoat so bad, that you lash out at somebody who outperformed the district, albeit you aren't satisfied.
Dang, how I wish I could have said that out loud.
Bitch: Do you understand that?
Beloved: *excruciatingly long pause* Uh...huh.
Look at that, this was a dialogue after all!
Bitch: Ok.
Beloved: *Deep, obnoxiously loud sigh, walks out*
How dare this bitch? I wonder what the 'bitch' count is for this installment...does the title count? Does it count when I quote it as something that's already been said? Things that make you go hmmm. Ok, so she finally got to me this time, with the whole "you have failed the students" thing. Because let's face it, I don't even fully give a damn about failing the school. But those kids, they are mine, and I cherish and fully respect having the opportunity to be a part of their lives and foster and facilitate, as well as stimulate growth of all kinds for these kids. I know, you all are accustomed to slight dramatizations when reading what I write, but I DID NOT MAKE UP A SINGLE WORD FROM THAT CONVERSATION. You don't do stuff like that. If I had low self esteem, I'd have run off in the corner and cried somewhere. Instead, I went and shared a conversation with my occupational confidants. It's nice to have people around that you feel comfortable with. Although, they are potentially part of the reason I think everything is "hunky dory". Bitch, please. Dang, that shoulda been the title of this blog! Hmm...perhaps I will blog again. Foreshadowing.
Oh, thanks for reminding me. There was another encounter, the day after, that validated my position. Remember Danica? Well if you can recall from earlier blogs, it's kinda her thing to be annoying. She also talks extremely loud, which prompted me just before Christmas to tell her it sounds like she has a microphone in her throat. She was then dubbed "Microphone Jones". Since that time, she has done numerous things to warrant eye rolls. She has spelled her name wrong, she has talked in line and class more times than I care to count, she has come to class unprepared, she has failed several tests. She has, she just has. She didn't pass either of the tests that she took last year. At the beginning of the year, Gobment and I were so sure she had a disability that we referred her for special education services. She didn't qualify though. Well, on Friday, I, along with Gobment, got to tell her personally that she passed not one, not two, but all three of the tests that she took. Reading, Math, and Writing. Now, I know that doesn't count for anything since I have failed the school, but it was still the single most gratifying moment I have had this entire school year. I am generally emotionless, yet I found myself so choked up that I literally had to hold back tears. Not because I was proud of myself and Gobment...I don't even like her...but because I was so proud of Danica and what she was able to accomplish just because she didn't give up. No greater feeling, I swear.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I do what I do. Hell, it's why most of us do what we do. I can honestly say that it's not for self-gratification either. It's the same reason I hold the door open for people. 50% of all situations end without the recipient of the held door saying thank you. Should I stop doing that, too? I'm a damn good door holder...I think I'll continue. I literally got my ass chewed off, but it really matters not. I am not there to try and touch her life in any way. Instead, I am there to see improvement and growth in students. A test may not always measure that. Nay, a test RARELY measures that. In this case, it can serve as validation for a student on the right track, but hell, I knew that Danica was maturing before she took those tests. They didn't tell us anything that we didn't already know. The only thing those tests did was told Beloved that he sucks at teaching and, quite possibly, life in general. But you know what? I'll never stop sucking. I'll never stop walking around like everything is hunky dory. I'll never be devastated unless I can't see any hope for the future. I will never be defeated. If you wanna put me in a box based on some scores, that were not all that bad, then you can kiss my ass with your tongue out because I will never go away...ever. Well--I may get away from This Bitch's school lol.
Until next time
Beloved
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Beloved Be Hated II: Public Enemy Number 1
Shat!! How do you know when something is really true, as opposed to just an anomaly? When you have to devote a part 2 to chronicle the continued ASSassination of one, Beloved. I mean, quite frankly, Beloved may need to be stripped of his distinction soon, if these issues persist. And trust me, they are likely to persist...at least until June 11th. What's special about that day? It's the day I will be free from the tyrannical reign of one who will come to be known as "Tractor", formerly Mrs. Piggy.
To my friends in the business of self-inflicted pain, known as education, this will be easily relatable. If you are a friend who does not understand how ridiculous a profession this is, you may have no interest at all in reading beyond this point, unless you like degrading comments and seeing me call people bitches and tell you how they be trippin. Then, I would stick around.
Note: The events that follow are in no way a reflection of the real life of the author. You may proceed.
Note: The events that follow are in no way a reflection of the real life of the author. You may proceed.
Before I get into the struggle between good and evil, where the line has become increasingly blurred and I am no longer certain whether I represent the good or the evil, I've got news from my little basketball team. These kids annoy the heck out of me because they don't pay much attention, but they are mine. I guess when you're between 5 and 7 years of age, it's a little difficult to always focus. Hell, I zone out in meetings and I'm a little older than them. I love them though. So much so, that one of the girls is gonna be playing on my soccer team this coming March, much to the chagrin of Luby. She always cryin 'bout something. Apparently, she thinks the girl should be playing on the team with her son, even though she never even invited her to play. Anywho, I kinda miss seeing Luby on a more regular basis. Now, we just see each other at basketball practice and games. But it's hard to talk about people when you're coaching.
I digressed. What was my dang point? Oh yeah, so we lost our basketball game last night to the kids on the church team. Shocking that they got allllllll the calls from the referee. Well the "church kids" were calling my kids losers and suckers after the game. I guess they don't do lessons on sportsmanship often enough. Well, it's just motivation for us. We'll strike back.
Some people probably think it's weird that I still have so much involvement with my former halfway school. The kids I coach attend, and are affiliated solely, with the institution. In addition to that, my antithesis of a brother, Jack, is still there, along with Luby. I also tutor kids that attend the school, but that's more so because they actually trust me not to completely eff up their kids' lives. I'm not sure that same level of trust is extended at this place. Uncle Rock is still there as well. I probably talk to Rock once a day now because he's concerned about my well-being at the new halfway school. I told yall he's like an uncle, or a big brother. He's extremely protective of me. Plus he has the best advice and old school sayings, which tend to make me laugh, even if I'm extremely annoyed. I've always got a new story for him, and he's always got a corresponding suggestion.
So, yeah, I'd say it's pretty weird to have such an affiliation, especially when I have such good friends, right down the hall, at my new place of employment. This includes Gobment and her infinite supply of names. I mean it looks like the steroid list in Major League Baseball. Then there's San Marie, who follows me around like a lost puppy, hinging on my every word. I think she just likes to hear me say stupid stuff, which I'm pretty good at. Bless her heart for having to put up with me. Whenever I get on a misogynist rant, Trio has always got my back. At least the 2 of us know a woman's place. Macy is across the hall from me, and she's kinda the 6 degrees of separation link because she knows my stupid brother, Jack. Well, she always makes me feel like I can actually do stuff right. That makes me smile. If not for these folks, I'd probably have to disband the blog because I'd no longer be employed. Yes, it's that bad. All I can say is the following: I'll miss you guys when I'm gone lol. It appears that my quest to extend myself to one facility for consecutive years shall continue on.
And now...........for the main event. It's been an incredibly trying week and a half at the Halfway School. We are working our arses off, and for what? Little thanks, multiple disrespects from uncultured kids, long hours, inferior work spaces, long arse meetings, and last, a bitch in charge. I mean...I wanna keep calling her a bitch, but I feel like the female dogs are gonna be really offended by the comparison. Yall know Cuervo, Griffin, Charles, Giggles, Baajing, Danika, Nothing? Yeah, they are the least of my concerns. I mean, in their defenses, with the exception of Charles, they're still bitches, but to be fair, they got it honest. Having met some of their parents, I see that they were doomed from the time them dang sperms won their respective races. Not to mention, Danika, has made significant improvements as far as reading comprehension. Enough improvement for me to mutter something I never thought I would tell her, "I'm.....proud of you." Charles, though his breath still stinks from time to time, got the 4th highest score in the 4th grade on his major district test, so I can't talk about him academically. Griffin, well I could still talk about him, but I met his mom, and it put so many things into perspective. But man, that boy been coming to school MUSTY!! Straight smellin like brothel genitals...it's been awful. Yet and still, these kids are not the main event, just an introduction to how egregious you have to be to surpass dumb, stank, attitudinal kids.
We all know that very little affects my way of thinking, positively or negatively. I adopted a philosophy a loooong time ago that I really just don't care. As you may know, I've been stripped of certain duties at school, in favor of one who knows far more about the content area than myself. I am fine with that. I don't know everything, not even close. If she is more capable of helping them pass a test and teaching me how to teach towards a test, then more power to her (and ultimately us). The thing is this: I literally could not care less about the grand scheme of these tests, as I don't see the impact they have on their future retention. Basically, they learn how to pass these tests without really retaining any information. Do I think it's wrong to teach them how to pass the tests? No, because we all need employment. I just don't personally value that skill over teaching them to do things in context.
Alas, Tractor and I begin to clash. She claims not to see the "urgency" from me, and I'm clearly incapable of teaching a child how to write. This is ironic because I was actually brought in to do just that. It appears that I am excelling more at the Reading curriculum than the Writing curriculum. Do I get any appreciation for some pretty dang good Reading scores? Of course not. Instead, I just become the scapegoat for things that are going poorly.
It all started when I was told about a list of things I need to turn in weekly, to ensure that I'm being the puppet that she wants me to be. First, I need to score documents and leave copies for her to review. This would have been a cinch. The problem is...I don't have the documents because they were given to the woman who is supposed to be saving my kids from my inadequacy. Ergo, I failed to submit physical copies, even though I met the necessary online requirements. It was at this point that I was warned that I was in danger of receiving a letter of reprimand. That conversation didn't go all that well, yet it still went better than subsequent conversations.
The next thing I am responsible for is submitting several different assignments that they have. That, too, would be a cinch, if I were not deferring to someone else on assignments and class schedule. It is an interesting conundrum, if you will. It has forced me to feel massive levels of disdain and resent for certain individuals, and by individuals, I mean one individual. Anyways, when I submitted my stuff for the week, some things were missing. I didn't do them because the kids were not in my class. Soooo, I got that letter of reprimand that I had previously been threatened with. Fortunately for me, I don't care that much. I'm not gonna start jumping through hoops just because somebody wants to contradict his or herself and make me look like I'm not doing anything. I also think it's classless of someone to try and do things of that nature. Anyways, I survived that meeting by saying "ok" and "uh huh" and, when given my letter, "thank you". She didn't look very happy to get that response.
It all started when I was told about a list of things I need to turn in weekly, to ensure that I'm being the puppet that she wants me to be. First, I need to score documents and leave copies for her to review. This would have been a cinch. The problem is...I don't have the documents because they were given to the woman who is supposed to be saving my kids from my inadequacy. Ergo, I failed to submit physical copies, even though I met the necessary online requirements. It was at this point that I was warned that I was in danger of receiving a letter of reprimand. That conversation didn't go all that well, yet it still went better than subsequent conversations.
The next thing I am responsible for is submitting several different assignments that they have. That, too, would be a cinch, if I were not deferring to someone else on assignments and class schedule. It is an interesting conundrum, if you will. It has forced me to feel massive levels of disdain and resent for certain individuals, and by individuals, I mean one individual. Anyways, when I submitted my stuff for the week, some things were missing. I didn't do them because the kids were not in my class. Soooo, I got that letter of reprimand that I had previously been threatened with. Fortunately for me, I don't care that much. I'm not gonna start jumping through hoops just because somebody wants to contradict his or herself and make me look like I'm not doing anything. I also think it's classless of someone to try and do things of that nature. Anyways, I survived that meeting by saying "ok" and "uh huh" and, when given my letter, "thank you". She didn't look very happy to get that response.
Fast forward to this past week, things have just gotten worse. In the words of somebody famous or smart or something, "Everybody is lobbing paper balls, and you wanna throw bricks, or stones, or something else hard that can knock a nigga out." I paraphrased a little bitch...I mean bit. So during our extremely fun grade-level meeting this week, I was again subjected to tyranny. I mean...I have got to be public enemy number one, and I don't even think it to be close. We can't even discuss things as simple as scheduling and potential conflicts and things of that nature without having a discussion that is less than amicable. That's putting it mildly. This meeting is when she decided to throw something heavier than paper balls; it's also where I decided, with certainty, to be a rogue employee that she will undoubtedly have her hands full with. I apologize in advance to all individuals who get in the line of fire, deliberately or inadvertently.
Tractor: Why aren't the kids going to Reading?
Beloved: They have been leaving to go to the Writing teacher that's better than me.
Tractor: That's not acceptable. And that's not why the scores were low on their last test.
Beloved: Nobody said that was the reason.
Tractor: I didn't say anybody did. I was just saying it in case somebody was thinking it.
Beloved: :-/
Tractor: And let me just say this. None of this would be necessary if they had been getting the instruction they were supposed to be getting in the first place. And I'll just leave it at that.
Shots fired...
Beloved: *smirks unendingly*
Bitch: So ultimately these are your kids so what are we going to do?
Beloved: .............
Tractor Bitch: I'm asking what you want to do. There needs to be a plan.
Less Beloved: ...................
Tractor: I'm not a dictator.
By "I'm not a dictator," she meant, "I am absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt a bitch, I mean dictator."
Tractor: What's the plan?
Beloved: I don't have a plan, and I won't have one any time soon.
Tractor: When there's no plan, I have to come up with one.
Beloved: Well I'll just do whatever you all come up with.
Tractor: But these aren't our kids.
Beloved: Well...I'm inadequate, so I'm not gonna have a plan.
Tractor: You're not inadequate, yo...8sdgfaaohrt a09hst aro 8art nsosjndfa sdflkhiasf sdfkjasgd sdgkha 9arth arotiartoar aoirthaerot a rtsohuakert artaeoriute artg. (Charlie Brown's teacher voice)
Beloved: I don't even know what you just said.
Gobment: Can we do the schedule like th......
Tractor: .....WAIT A MINUTE, THESE AREN'T OUR KIDS, THEY'RE HIS!
Tractor In Extra Bitch Mode: DON'T TRY TO HELP HIM OR I'LL SLAP YO ARSE TOO, THEN TAKE THE TENNIS BALLS OFF OF YOUR WALKER.
Beloved: Why you yelling, bitch?
Ok so the last two didn't happen.
Beloved: Well I don't know.
Tractor: If you will provide them with some extra writing, they should be able to stay and get Reading.
Beloved: Well I won't be doing it the same way other people are doing it, and I'm not gonna teach them the how to memorize papers because I don't know how and don't feel comfortable. *puts foot down*
Tractor: Well I hope while you're saying what you're not going to do, you say what you will do to help them pass this test which is the most important thing they will ever do in their life, and will determine their entire future, plus give them a college degree and job, fresh out of 4th grade.
Beloved (in his head): Bitch, don't you think I've been thinking about that?
Beloved (out loud): *raises eyebrows and shrugs*
Tractor: So we'll have another meeting, masquerading as an official meeting, to discuss future meetings, regarding official meetings, to discuss a plan, next week, so I can berate you more, further denigrating any shred of confidence remaining in your insufficient body.
Beloved: .......
Tractor: Ok?
Beloved: Yep.
And......scene. This is a dramatization, but only slightly. This is the life of one, Behated. I think it will probably get worse because I am stubborn. Hopefully it does not, but I don't know how much self-control I have remaining. As of now, it is occasional snide remarks, but they are becoming increasingly stated. Yall just keep me in mind when you say your prayers. Not because I'm sad or anything, but because I'm dangerous.
On a brighter note, it's Saturday. Ok, so that didn't actually help lol. I'm gonna go exercise and then watch Boy Meets World while thinking of my master plan. Oh wait, I don't have a plan. Until next time...
Be-to-the-Hated
(Formerly Beloved)
Tractor: Why aren't the kids going to Reading?
Beloved: They have been leaving to go to the Writing teacher that's better than me.
Tractor: That's not acceptable. And that's not why the scores were low on their last test.
Beloved: Nobody said that was the reason.
Tractor: I didn't say anybody did. I was just saying it in case somebody was thinking it.
Beloved: :-/
Tractor: And let me just say this. None of this would be necessary if they had been getting the instruction they were supposed to be getting in the first place. And I'll just leave it at that.
Shots fired...
Beloved: *smirks unendingly*
Bitch: So ultimately these are your kids so what are we going to do?
Beloved: .............
Tractor Bitch: I'm asking what you want to do. There needs to be a plan.
Less Beloved: ...................
Tractor: I'm not a dictator.
By "I'm not a dictator," she meant, "I am absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt a bitch, I mean dictator."
Tractor: What's the plan?
Beloved: I don't have a plan, and I won't have one any time soon.
Tractor: When there's no plan, I have to come up with one.
Beloved: Well I'll just do whatever you all come up with.
Tractor: But these aren't our kids.
Beloved: Well...I'm inadequate, so I'm not gonna have a plan.
Tractor: You're not inadequate, yo...8sdgfaaohrt a09hst aro 8art nsosjndfa sdflkhiasf sdfkjasgd sdgkha 9arth arotiartoar aoirthaerot a rtsohuakert artaeoriute artg. (Charlie Brown's teacher voice)
Beloved: I don't even know what you just said.
Gobment: Can we do the schedule like th......
Tractor: .....WAIT A MINUTE, THESE AREN'T OUR KIDS, THEY'RE HIS!
Tractor In Extra Bitch Mode: DON'T TRY TO HELP HIM OR I'LL SLAP YO ARSE TOO, THEN TAKE THE TENNIS BALLS OFF OF YOUR WALKER.
Beloved: Why you yelling, bitch?
Ok so the last two didn't happen.
Beloved: Well I don't know.
Tractor: If you will provide them with some extra writing, they should be able to stay and get Reading.
Beloved: Well I won't be doing it the same way other people are doing it, and I'm not gonna teach them the how to memorize papers because I don't know how and don't feel comfortable. *puts foot down*
Tractor: Well I hope while you're saying what you're not going to do, you say what you will do to help them pass this test which is the most important thing they will ever do in their life, and will determine their entire future, plus give them a college degree and job, fresh out of 4th grade.
Beloved (in his head): Bitch, don't you think I've been thinking about that?
Beloved (out loud): *raises eyebrows and shrugs*
Tractor: So we'll have another meeting, masquerading as an official meeting, to discuss future meetings, regarding official meetings, to discuss a plan, next week, so I can berate you more, further denigrating any shred of confidence remaining in your insufficient body.
Beloved: .......
Tractor: Ok?
Beloved: Yep.
And......scene. This is a dramatization, but only slightly. This is the life of one, Behated. I think it will probably get worse because I am stubborn. Hopefully it does not, but I don't know how much self-control I have remaining. As of now, it is occasional snide remarks, but they are becoming increasingly stated. Yall just keep me in mind when you say your prayers. Not because I'm sad or anything, but because I'm dangerous.
On a brighter note, it's Saturday. Ok, so that didn't actually help lol. I'm gonna go exercise and then watch Boy Meets World while thinking of my master plan. Oh wait, I don't have a plan. Until next time...
Be-to-the-Hated
(Formerly Beloved)
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