While tutoring…
Me: “I’ll give you 30 seconds to answer the question. Like on Jeopardy.”
Kid: <blank stare>
Me: “Tell me you know what Jeopardy is.”
Kid: “Is that the show that Will Ferrel hosts? And everyone is dressed like famous people and no one ever gets any questions right?”
You know what? Yes.
Infinitely more impressive than if you knew the actual Jeopardy.
My friend Alex, dad of My First Guest Blogger, just turned to me and said the following:
“Emily, look! If you actually read [the baby’s] blog post, the first line actually says ‘Hi! You suck. I’m in LA!’ And at the bottom she gives her coordinates!”
As a reminder, the post said this:
Point NYC. Just because. No.
LA 5; NYC 6
There’s nothing funnier than when people awkwardly fall. I do it all the time. So when my friend’s baby just did it, I burst out laughing, because she looked like a total goof.
Then the kid started wailing, and both her parents sprung out of their chairs to comfort her.
I was still laughing.
It was really funny, guys.
She just like buckled and fell sideways. Out of nowhere.
She looked like a miniature demolished building.
Timber!!!
I guess you had to be there….
I can never have kids.
Kid: “Do you tutor me over vacation because you’re poor?”
Me: “What?! No!”
Yes.
Because I clearly need to leave mine.
This is bad for so many reasons I don’t know where to start
When I signed up to be a teacher, it was because I wanted to work with children. Not be treated like one.
I wanted to help children. Not cause them more angst (and if you’ve never been part of a test-prep season or proctored one of these hours-long state tests, especially to children with special needs, then pardon me when I say your opinion on this is about as worthless as Ebola Mom’s gloves).
I wanted to inspire creativity. Not urge kids to write a more boring, to-the-point essay, as THAT is how you rack up the points. No time for creativity or flowery writing, kids. Stick to one, direct answer. Quote right from the text. Don’t overthink it. (These are things we SAY!)
I wanted to help the child who asks for help, not shrug my shoulders and say “You know I’m not allowed to help you with this,” (because if I am caught helping, I’ll be fired), and then pass him a tissue as he bursts into tears (not even sure I’m allowed to pass him the tissue– better double check the rule book.)
I wanted to make children smile. Not cry.
And now 50% of my evaluations are based on these test scores (with zero consideration for the fact that half the children I teach have special needs). The rest is based on a stranger’s opinion– someone who doesn’t know me, my school, our curriculum, our philosophies, the unique strengths, needs, disabilities, and challenging home environments of each and every one of my students.
God forbid an evaluator had walked in two weeks ago, when my 9-year-old student showed up late to school, hysterically crying. Mom couldn’t get out of bed to get her to school, so she took the city bus all by herself, missed her stop, and ended up lost downtown. I sat with her in the hallway, getting the full story, making sure she was okay and being properly cared for at home.
Had this been the moment an outside evaluator chose to capture, I would have been marked “ineffective.” And moments like this happen ALL THE TIME. But there is no section on the teacher rating chart for human kindness and compassion.
You’re ruining everything, Cuomo. Well– not everything. You’re taking a system that is already broken, coming at it with a chain saw, then burying it beneath one huge steaming pile of horseshit.
Happy Spring Break, NYC teachers.
Yeah. Sounds great.
😳
While tutoring…
Kid: “Yeah, but I still tricked you.”
Oh god. No amount of tutoring can help you.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
Oh, Nanc. How I admire your unique ability to not be nice while doing something nice.
For so many reasons….No.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
Only Ebola Mom could manage to turn birthday sentiments into an accusation.
Umm…I’m sorry?
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