Screaming on the Inside
i hate teaching. well, not really. i hate teaching at this school. well, a bit. i hate my students. well...some of them.
can one be passionate about hatred?
when a fourteen year old youth tells you that he "runs you", it seems impossible for me NOT to spit out the water held in my mouth...on him. i'm not proud of my actions, but had he been a grown man, i would have spit the water out and cussed him severely. since, i didn't have that option, the water was justified. this is simply one incident that enables me to hate my job and many of the youth i teach. oops, did i say many? I meant most.
add this to meeting with the director of human resources who informs a group of us that, due to a decrease in student enrollment, we won't have a job next year. now, i'm not lamenting not teaching here next year. i actually didn't plan on coming back. it is, however, the principle of the matter. last hired, first fired does not include the three women that were hired a year after me? obviously not.
so why the dissatisfaction with the current year? well, i'm tired of the whole kit and kaboodle. i'm tired of a fucked up administration that refuses to see the merit and worth of the teachers in the building. students who refuse to complete homework, come at least 20 minutes late to class, and fight with little compunction seemingly exhaust my weary solace.
my biggest complaint today, about this urban school wrought with urban school problems of poverty, absent social services, and disorganization, is there is gum on my ceiling. these little muthafuckers have thrown gum on my ceiling.
understand why i hate my job today?
herein lies the reasoning and rationale of those teachers who've chosen to leave the field. a lack of support, bad ass children, frustration and helplessness fuel the exponential downturn of teacher retention rates across the nation.
my passion, today, is hating all aspects and facets of my job.
can one be passionate about hatred?
when a fourteen year old youth tells you that he "runs you", it seems impossible for me NOT to spit out the water held in my mouth...on him. i'm not proud of my actions, but had he been a grown man, i would have spit the water out and cussed him severely. since, i didn't have that option, the water was justified. this is simply one incident that enables me to hate my job and many of the youth i teach. oops, did i say many? I meant most.
add this to meeting with the director of human resources who informs a group of us that, due to a decrease in student enrollment, we won't have a job next year. now, i'm not lamenting not teaching here next year. i actually didn't plan on coming back. it is, however, the principle of the matter. last hired, first fired does not include the three women that were hired a year after me? obviously not.
so why the dissatisfaction with the current year? well, i'm tired of the whole kit and kaboodle. i'm tired of a fucked up administration that refuses to see the merit and worth of the teachers in the building. students who refuse to complete homework, come at least 20 minutes late to class, and fight with little compunction seemingly exhaust my weary solace.
my biggest complaint today, about this urban school wrought with urban school problems of poverty, absent social services, and disorganization, is there is gum on my ceiling. these little muthafuckers have thrown gum on my ceiling.
understand why i hate my job today?
herein lies the reasoning and rationale of those teachers who've chosen to leave the field. a lack of support, bad ass children, frustration and helplessness fuel the exponential downturn of teacher retention rates across the nation.
my passion, today, is hating all aspects and facets of my job.
posted by becomingme at 8:51 AM
1 Comments:
Well, this was over 2 years ago, but what the hell; maybe you still get alerts from this blog.
Sorry to see that you're not writing here anymore; maybe elsewhere?
Anyway, I taught in East Atlanta for 5 years. Not as tough a neighborhood as some, but difficult. The kids didn't get a lot of support from home -- nor from the school system.
It drove me crazy. Yeah, they were mouthy, obnoxious, even hateful at times. But they were kids; the angrier they were meant the more they were hurting.
I had a case where a dad stole his daughter's fund-raising money to buy booze. I was ready to take a bat to the guy. But the girl persevered (she was only 11), got some sponsor's, and was able to go on the trip we were fundraising for. I was very proud of her.
And it's not like she was an angel to have in class. But I respected her, and that had an effect over time. As teachers, our job is to deal with the kids we have and adjust to teach what is needed. It took me a while to figure that out, but I did -- mostly because I loved those kids and simply wanted to figure out how to reach them.
I hope you found a better situation for yourself. Interesting blog; you should keep writing if you're not. :)
Peter
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