Take 5

Remember how the Grand Marshal told us we needed to give 101%???  Today it was posted in the gym -- a big cut-out red 101% on the wall.  Then, right during the moment of silence (after one of the fifth graders farted and I told him he was supposed to be silent and we got the giggles...) it hit me.  101% is not possible in a base 10 mathematical system.  That 's a given.  Why is it bothering me so much????  

It's BINARY!!!!!!!!!!!!  OMG we only have to give like FIVE PERCENT. 

And, incidentally, I pi$$ed off one of my students today, and he told the Grand Marshal what he thought of me.  I have evolved (or devolved) from Big Fat Meenie.  So GrandMarshal came into tutoring today and whispered to me in my ear that now, I am the Devil. 

Laughter is Never in Short Supply

To add to the neverending aggravation that is being imposed upon us by the GrandMarshal, we are having to sign out for our classroom supplies at school now.  So if I need a red pen to grade papers with I have to write down the kind of pens I am taking from the cabinet and record the quantity on a little form on the counter.  Duckit was looking for large paperclips but there weren't any, so she took one of practically everything else and then added the note "who took all the large paper clips?"  Felix went behind her and got some stuff and added the note "I did" below Duckit's note.  I followed and accidentally wrote the quantity on the wrong box so the note "clearly you didn't read and/or follow directions as usual" was added to my entry.  Then Hyphen took "1 single solitary rubber band."  We fell the h3ll out laughing.

Later, Duckit noted that someone had written "tape (scotch)" - I wanted to write "tape (vodka)" but she is trying to keep me out of too much trouble so that dream was squashed. 

Duckit Loves Me

Well, there have been a few "incidents" involving staff members at various campuses in PeytonPlace ISD lately that have made our little hometown newspapers' front pages.  So, today the superintendent came and wanted to speak to us about protecting our reputations when we are out and about town, and, although we should have a personal life and protect our personal time as important, we need to remember that we never stop being a school employee since we are in a small town. 

After the meeting, Duckit and I were in our hall outside our classroom doors talking to a few folks and Duckit expressed her dismay at the message that was delivered at the meeting.  She basically said that she felt a little upset that it was directed at the whole faculty -- if he had a problem with her partner's behavior he should go to me directly and straighten it out with me!!!!!!!!  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! She kills me.

Lost

I think the GrandMarshal may have managed to completely and utterly confuse two groups of kids recently:  First - he gathered up all the 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders in the gym and lectured them on working hard and using their strategies and doing everything their teachers tell them to do.  He told them that if they don't listen to us it will be "bueno" - and I leaned over to B1tchslap and whispered.  "Ok, he just totally screwed things up for the ESL kids - cuz now they think that it is "good" to not listen to us."

Then, today he told us at the faculty meeting that we needed everyone giving 101% -- He knows we are doing our best, but we just need to give 100% more, etc. etc. And he announced that he would be posting a big 101% for all the kids to see as a reminder of how they need to give us more effort.  Which is mathematically impossible in a base ten system. 

Now he's lost all the 5th graders who are struggling with decimals and percentages in math.

Lesser of Two Evils

The BEST choice right now is to drink a bottle and a half of Merlot, and a 6 pack of warm beer, and a fifth of vodka, and whatever is left in the bottle of brandy at the back of the liquor cabinet... and then regurgitating all of it back up through my nostrils.  As opposed to the day that I ACTUALLY had.  I, honestly, am tired of being on the same planet with people who are dumber than me.  And I get tired of other people's negligence suddenly becoming my emergency, and I am tired of "being Jesus."  And WHY in the name of holy Peter himself does my son think it is necessary to load the jukebox with songs about TRACTORS for crying out loud on a day like this?   It's a TRACTOR - a farm implement.  Granted, an important development in the industrialization of American farming and horticulture, but - IT'S A TRACTOR.

Is it a penis metaphor? 

If he, in fact, takes the tractor for another round (and assuming that we are still metaphorically referring to the "tractor") - eventually the "tractor" is going to contract some sort of STD that will put it out of commission for at least one harvest season. 

My Metaphor

School is a big showy parade.  Our principal is the grand marshal, and he is riding on his high horse, leading the way.  He is oblivious to what is REALLY going on behind him -- including the horse shi+  that is dropping behind his horse all along the parade route. I surmise that the horse's name is TAKS.

The poor kids are the marching band that have the unfortunate task of plodding along behind the horse and are dodging and side-stepping the piles created by said horse -- remember, we think his name is TAKS.

I, however have decided that I, the eternal princess of whatever I want to be the princess of at the moment, am getting on a big-a$$ float with my tiara and throwing candy and waving ("elbow elbow wrist wrist").  And I'm driving right over the horse shi+ and not paying attention to any of it.

Today I Am a Big Fat Meanie

It was put in writing.  By one of my little darlings.  On a TAKS test practice sheet no less.  Actually it was spelled "meenie" and it was underneath the words "I Hate Ms. WhiteTrashPrincess"  and he had spelled my last name incorrectly, too.  One of the things he was in trouble for today was not paying attention.  Guess if he ever DID pay attention he would've spelled stuff correctly and I wouldn't look like the world's suckiest language arts teacher.  Anyway, I called him into the hall to discuss it with him and he starts denying that he wrote it!  Except that he said "I didn't wrote it!"  When Duckit tried to correct his grammar by saying "You mean you didn't WRITE it,"  he retorted - "I swear, I didn't wrote it!"

Learning. Nothing.

There goes my teacher of the month nomination.

Anyway, the vehement denials continued until I was near tears with laughter.  He accused the kid in front of him of writing it on there while he was taking a bathroom break.  Since 4 of the boys (including him and the kid he accused) sit in a traditional row seating pattern down the middle of the room, and they have cardboard study carrels around their tests, AND I was walking around the room "actively monitoring" the TAKS practice, it is impossible for it to have gone down the way he claimed.

 I want to put the letters B.F.M. at the end of my name like M.D. or something.

On the bright side, however.... today was the last day of TWO - yes TWO - of the big trouble-making discipline problem refuse to follow directions and don't want to be at school and I'm gonna make everyone else miserable while I'm at it kind of kids.

Somewhere in the world there are 2 other teachers who are about to become Big Fat Meenies also.

Sealed with a Kiss?

Based upon the sign-out point sheet records, my own personal flawed (inebriated) perception of reality, and anecdotal reports made by MyPoolBoy and Thunderduck, this is what happened last week at poker:  I vaguely remember bluffing for the first time in my life -- pocket 10s and I made all the boys think I had kings.  I don't remember playing well enough to place for points. 

And I don't remember that I signed out on the points sheet with LIP GLOSS.