Teaching a writing lesson…
Me: “Ok, so we’re going to start with something called a ‘brainstorm.’ Have you heard that word before?”
Kid: “Yes! A brainstorm is when you have like a storm in your brain. Like when all your thoughts are bad and they just keep crashing around in your brain and it’s hard to stop them, even when you try to think of good things.”
No.
But you are my spirit animal.
Sometimes I get anxious about my new career path– because change, no matter how good and how healthy, is always difficult for me (and, like, everyone on Earth. I know I’m not unique in this. I do think I am slightly more panicked/anxious/dramatic/unable-to-calm-the-fuck-down-y than the average human during a transition, but I recognize that general feelings of discomfort are pretty universal. So if anyone else is out there going through a time of change, feel free to hit me up for some commiseration. Or just try the exercise below. I found it extremely therapeutic, and I think it would make both my therapist and Oprah proud.)
Here’s a nifty list of things I can do now that I am no longer a classroom teacher, just as a reminder that I made the right choice for myself.
Kid: “Did you get a wedding dress yet?”
Me: “No, not yet. So many choices! It’s hard to decide on one.”
Kid: “You should do what my mom did. She had four different dresses. She had one for the pictures before the wedding, then she walked down the aisle in another one, like a big princess dress, and then she did the party in a different, shorter dress so she could dance and then she had an even SHORTER one for the party AFTER the wedding. She got them all at Vera Wang.”
Yeah your family needs to pay me more.
Tutoring a 9 year old boy….
Kid: “My dad says when I grow up I have to be a doctor or a lawyer or someone who makes lots of money. But my teacher says I can be whatever I want to be! Right?”
Me (frustrated by this kind of parenting): “Of course you can be whatever you want to be! You have to figure out what makes YOU happy. Nobody can tell you what you can and can’t do with your life!”
Kid: “Ok good. Because I want to be a dog walker.”
Oh ok no. You can’t do that.
“Oh my gosh, really?! For ME? Thank you! That is SO nice! I love it so much! You are such a nice person!”
— Kid, when I handed him this eraser as a “first day of tutoring” gift.
You’re welcome.
Also can I adopt you?
Me: (explaining a math problem)
Kid: “Ooooh, so I get it! It’s like the computer prompt, with tea.”
Me: “I’m sorry….what?”
Kid: “You know. Like…the computer prompt WITH TEA.”
Me: “Yeah I don’t understand what’s happening. Can you explain?”
Kid: “You don’t know about the computer prompt with tea? My teacher taught me! Like, you know…if 2 + 3= 5, then 3 + 2 = 5, because it’s the computer prompt…with tea.”
Me: “Oh my gosh– the COMMUTATIVE PROPERTY?!”
Kid: “Yeah that’s what I said. COMPUTER….PROMPT…..WITH…..TEA!”
Me: “You’re actually saying something completely different, but you have the concept so I don’t even care.”
Kid: “It sounds exactly the same to me!”
Me: “Alright well….agree to disagree?”
Kid: “Ok.”
Me: “We will get back to this though. I’m not going to let you become an adult who mispronounces this.”
Kid: “What does ‘mispropounces’ mean?”
Me: “Forget it. Back to numbers. Language is obviously not working out for us today.”
Me (frustrated and annoyed): “This kid I’m tutoring is being extremely difficult and disrespectful. He is obsessed with talking about poop. OBSESSED. Finally I told him that if he doesn’t stop, I’m not going to tutor him anymore. And right after I said that, I took out a book and asked him to read the word ‘wanted.’ He looked at me, looked at the word, smiled and said ‘poop.’ I nearly lost it.”
(Long pause)
Eric: “I like him!”
Everyone I know, to me: “It’s June! You’re, like, DONE! You must be so happy!”
No.
Fucking, just, no. No, no, no.
I’m sure this is very difficult for non-teachers to understand, but June is actually one of the worst months of the year in our profession. June carries with it a very specific, very potent, very excruciating kind of misery that is like the 3rd cousin of, but not directly related to, the general misery that permeates months September through May.
The kids are OUT. OF. CONTROL. The end-of-year housekeeping tasks are never ending and mind-numbingly dull. Administration is in a state of perpetual pissed-off. The building is 972 degrees, whether it’s a cool or hot day outside. Makes no difference. Heat and humidity of any kind gets trapped, it rises, the air conditioner breaks (if it even worked in the first place), and suddenly you feel as though you are trapped on the E-train platform in the dead of August. Surrounded by other people’s sweaty, prepubescent children. For 8 hours straight.
It’s not good.
So please. I know you all mean well, but save the “You’re done! You must be so happy!” for June 28th, 3:01pm, and not a moment before (or 3:10pm if you want a particularly animated response, as I’ll be 7 shots deep by then).
Because here’s what’s happening now:
(15 minutes later….)
Kid: “Miss Emily, where did you go to college?”
Me: “University of Pennsylvania.”
Kid: “WOW! I bet that’s like one of the best colleges…”
Me (interrupting): “It is!”
Kid: “…in ALL of Pennsylvania!”
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