Be Kind, Unwind

In this edition of Tales of Hallway Hijinks I almost had a video cassette take my head off as it was launch from inside a classroom and smashed against on the many cinderblock walls we have lining our halls. The teacher marches out pass me without acknowledging my presence, picks up the video carcass and begins to rip its carcass apart. He’s finishing the job that the wall had started. I stand there in horror as he grasps and pulls, cutting his had on one of the plastic shards. He then marches back to the doorway of his classroom and shouts, “You guys always have a smart ass answer for everything, so what should we do now?!”

I can’t tell you the rest because when a snotty teen voice responded with, “switch to caffeine,” I did a one-eighty and got the hell out of there.

Laminate is all the rage.

I think our librarian is ready for summer to get here. Her e-mails are getting more and more, uh—snappish:

Attention Teachers:

Stop sending stuff to be laminated that has no business of such a service. It is very expensive to laminate items, so it must be apparent that what you send me is worthy of such an expense. For example, some of you have been submitting the completed assignments of students. Actually, it is happening a lot. Just give it back to them. Let their parents hang it on the fridge or whatever they do.

If you ask me, the only plastic that my students’ work should be encased in is a trash bag. Listen to me! It sounds like I’m ready for the summer too.

It’s time to re-MODle.

I was walking by the office of the lady who takes care of students IEP’s (Individualized Education Program), and she stepped out to stop me and ask if I could sign a student’s paperwork. The kid’s teacher didn’t show up, and she’s required by the state to have one of the student’s teacher sign, which again, isn’t me.

I wonder if she was offended when I didn’t break stride and laughed all the way down the hall? Hell, it was one of the craziest things I had heard in a while. I don’t get other teachers’ paychecks, and I don’t do their work for them. It is an important meeting. One of the kid’s seven teachers should be there. Besides, parents can sue on that type of stuff and they don’t sue the teacher who was supposed to sign it, if you know what I’m saying.

One of the Good Guys

I've got nothing to say today--just read.

You Must Be This Dumb To Ride This Ride

Hammer sent out an e-mail expressing a concern that teachers were releasing kids before the last bell of the day, giving students the opportunity to create problems in the hallways before administrators are in place to monitor behavior. I wonder how desperate a teacher is to do that? I mean we’re talking about five minutes or so here. You can’t bear to be in the same room for that much longer? Yes, there can be some pains in the ass (just go read some of my past stuff), but remember that this district’s “think tank” has already limited classes to forty-two minutes. That’s not even enough time to teach. Each class I’m warp-speeding it through the lesson, so there certainly can’t be any dead time where a teacher can go, “You know what guys, why don’t you go ahead and take off.”

My biggest worry is that the district will take these premature dismissals as an indicator that teachers don’t need so much and knock us down to like thirty-seven minutes or something. Mark my words; ten years from now schools will resemble those animatronic amusement rides. Kids will be locked into roller-coaster cars and will be taken in a big circle. They’ll only stop in subject specific portions to get some brief edutainment. History will have a Hall of Presidents type thingy, while science will probably have some type of mad scientist pop out and scare them with Bunsen beakers that shoot fiery gas balls. The English part will most likely be just a bunch of video screens showing the movie version of various books. Then that will be it—short, sweet—unload them and seat the next batch.

I have to stay positive though. Hey, maybe there will be a position open in the souvenir shop at the end of the ride.