Now that we’ve confirmed that Chipotle is ACTUALLY tainted with E Coli from feces, the free burrito offering to teachers during Teacher Appreciation Week makes complete sense.
“Thanks, teachers! Here’s a free hot steaming pile of shit– in a wrap! You deserve it!”
(I’ll still eat mine)
My 4th grade student told me about her slightly older brother having a sleepover with his friends at their apartment.
Kid: “So I knew he was having a sleepover with all boys so OBVIOUSLY I made plans to sleep at my friend’s house.”
Me: “Oh, yeah. Wise move.”
Kid: “But then my friend got sick and I couldn’t go! So I had to be there with all the boys. AND IT WAS CHAOS.”
Me: “Oh, I can imagine! Boys can be wild.”
Kid: “Yeah but you don’t even understand. Before they went to bed…they did the grossest thing…”
Me: “I’m scared….”
Kid: “They ALL TOOK OFF THEIR SHIRTS.”
Me (relieved but feigning drama): “What?! NO! Their SHIRTS?!”
Kid: “I know. It. Was. DISGUSTING! Boys are soooo gross!!!”
Oh, girlfriend. Just you wait.
A parent of one of my students came in for a meeting…
Parent: “Some of the kids have been calling my son a ‘whiny little bitch’ at recess, and it’s really hurting his feelings. What should he do?”
Me: “Oh my goodness! I had no idea this was happening. Well, I think he needs to start by standing up for himself and telling these kids that he will not tolerate their name-calling.”
He might also want to consider not being such a whiny little bitch.
In reference to the classroom…
These are the kinds of stories you will hear if you make the mistake of asking your teacher significant other how her day is going.
Kudos to Eric for perfecting the art of pretending to care. He really did ask some stellar follow-up questions.
Kid: “Miss Emily, how come you never wear any makeup?”
I wear makeup every day.
Therapist: “So do you feel relieved now that you finally gave your boss notice that you’re quitting your job?”
Me: “Oh my god, YES. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m anxious about the upcoming change. And it’s bittersweet. And I’m really going to miss being with my coworkers every day, several of whom are my closest friends. But I’m also excited, and know it’s the right thing. But more than anything I’m just really proud of myself. Usually, if I’m in a situation that’s comfortable, it takes me forever to get out of it, even when I know it’s what I need to do. But this time, I knew in like December that I needed out, and by February, I made the decision and did it.”
Therapist: “Right! (pause) Well..2010.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Therapist: “You knew in December, 2010.”
Me: “Well, I mean, I didn’t really know then.”
Therapist (flipping through her notes): “December 6, 2010– ‘I need to quit my job. I’m unhappy in the system. I don’t feel fulfilled. I feel like if I stay one more year, I’m going to go insane.”
Me: “Right but that was just venting– I didn’t like KNOW know.”
Therapist (still quoting): “‘I know this with every fiber of my being.'”
Me: “Oh.”
Alright well I did it so BACK THE FUCK OFF.
Dear NYC Department of Education,
You’re probably looking at this photo and thinking “Hmmm, what am I looking at here?”
Well I’ll tell you what you’re looking at.
This is a picture of a GIANT FUCKING COCKROACH, roughly the size of my man-handed fist, trapped underneath a book bin, then secured with a chair. This massive fella decided to show himself in the middle of the NY state test today, casually sauntering across the library floor like he owned the place, causing two of my 4th graders to jump out of their chairs, and, subsequently, the entire room to start screaming bloody murder.
As the only adult in the room, I had to act quickly and maturely. This consisted of me screaming “EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!!!!” like a batshit psycho, while darting across the room to the shelves, grabbing the nearest book bin, dumping out the entirety of its contents onto a table where 4 kids were test-taking, holding my breath, and trying to retrace the life choices that had lead me to this exact moment in time, so that I could undo them.
Once I trapped it beneath the bin, I put a chair on top of it, just in case that motherfucker decided to try something funny. Trust no one, DOE.
After the chair was secured and I had both swallowed the vomit in my throat and wiped the tears from my eyes, the kids were asked to sit for another hour, alongside the cockroach, and finish their exams.
So that’s why everyone failed.
Love,
Miss Emily
Tomorrow begins state testing. My 9-year-old students will come to school and sit for hours to take a test that is not remotely reflective of what they know, who they are, or what they are capable of achieving.
So in honor of these torturous, painful, anxiety-inducing tests that my young students have to suffer through and I have to watch them suffer through, I quit my job.
Hah, just kidding!
That’s not why I quit.
It makes me feel pretty good about my decision, though.
Ok yeah it’s a little bit why I quit.
One of my favorite moments as a teacher is when my most irresponsible, lost-in-the-sauce, never-paying-attention-to-a-word-I-say student comes to school wearing his Harvard sweatshirt.
Aim high, brotha!
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