It is exciting: it keeps me guessing about what the student with the ankle bracelet, who is on house arrest, was in the Big House for; and also whether it would be wise to inform him he has not attained the standards necessary to pass my English class this semester. No, using the phrase "titty bar" in his paper was not the only reason he is failing. Are there bulletproof vests made in some stylish material for the anxious paraprofessional?
My students are nice to me. They don't yell, "You're a Big Meanie!" , talk down to me and say "duuuuh, Mom.." Sometimes they bring me sodas or trinkets as peace offerings.
My students respect physical boundaries. I don't get pawed, trampled, my hair pulled, snuggled by youngsters who act like they would rather still be breastfeeding than eating solids at the ages of 5 and 8.
I get to do something I know how to do. I know how to analyze prose and diagram a sentence. How do you wake up sleeping kids who are sleeping like rocks when there are only twenty minutes before the first school bell rings? What is the proper grip to force a small, clenched mouth open to brush the teeth inside? How do you control two beings SCREAMING at each other at the top of their lungs over who gets to hold the cat. How do you protect the cat? What do you say to a little person who pleads, "I'm hungry, I'm cold, and lonely." If you have also failed this quiz, the correct answer to the last question is hot chocolate, but it has to be sugary, preferably hfcs and non-nutritious so don't dare try to sneak in extra milk.
I don't have to ASK Dad, could he please be ever so nice and read a kid a bedtime story? Would he mind chasing his darling child down and scrubbing his face if he happens to have a chance to take a tiny break from answering pressing listserve questions about grasshoppers? Isn't there an amazing recipe for soft boiled eggs that he used to make, and wouldn't he like to possibly please FEED THE KIDS who are screaming I'M HUNGRY! instead of downloading photos right now? I get home really late and everyone is asleep and I do not care whose teeth were brushed, and whether they had Cocoa Crispies for dinner. At least I didn't have to cook it.
My students have problems. They are poor, badly educated, single parents, runaways, survivors of abuse, but they are trying to improve themselves and I am trying to help them. I used to want to be a counselor, but I did not want the big responsibility for someone I barely knew's well-being. Now I hear about so many problems---the evictions, the addictions, the sick kids, the violence, the untimely deaths, and I have a little beam of hope to offer, I hope, in education. Maybe the students can even get out of their own heads for a while, too, while reading the Declaration of Independence.
Wi-fi! I do not want it in my home since I would never see my family again; they would be abducted by computer games and bug guide searches. BUT, that is like not wanting potato chips in the house when I would also have my hand deep in the bag. I'd be addicted too, but I am holding out, still trying to put stock in simpler activities. Cranberry chains for the Christmas tree, anyone?
The semester comes to an end, like it is now, and then another comes as a fresh start with new faces and new challenges. I wish someone would let me know what the prison release guys had been in for, though.
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1 comment:
This was a riot! You had me at "titty bar."
I spend a lot of time thinking about why I *don't* like my job, and it's good to be reminded that in many ways, it's better than spending all day with a one-year-old who arches her back, screams and tries to flip herself over every time I want to change her diaper.
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