Teenagers... That pretty much sums it up...

I have come to the epic conclusion that if you ever want to become a model/actress/perfectionist/grammer nazi/comedian/organiser/counsellor/mediator/Yoda.... become a high school teacher.

You have to imagine it, we are on view, everyday, to a class of 30 odd children who scrutinise our every move, from the clothes we wear, to the one word that we spell wrong on the board. My students have decided that it is their calling in life to tell me exactly WHAT they love about what I wear each day, and what they DON'T like ("Seriously Miss, are those shoes COMFORTABLE?" "Um, yeah" "Ohhh, okay, I guess if they're comfortable it doesn't matter if they don't match"... OUCH), so much so that in the morning I no longer think 'Hmmm, what would I like to wear today', instead I find myself asking 'what can my kids find wrong in my outfit'.

 I may just start wearing really outrageous outfits to work, merely to see what they will say... You never know, I could set the newest fashion trend... Or they'll send me straight to the nearest mental institution... At the rate I'm going, I may end up there sooner than I thought.

 I must say, it can be a rather big ego boost, but I'm not there to be their personal model. But hey, anything to distract their hormone crazed minds from the actual lesson! Greek gods forbid that we actually do WORK for once!!  The shock, the horror of it all, that we actually go to school to LEARN!! Whatever will they think of next!! *swoooooooon*

No one ever said this job would be easy, but boy do I get some good laughs out of it.  

Survival level: Term 1

So I did it, I survived through the first term. On the last day of school, I bid my students farewell, the normal "have a great holiday, be safe blah blah blah..." What I really wanted to do was surf on the desks, swing from the ceiling fans, screaming "I'M FREEEEE, FREE I TELL YOU, WOHOOOOOO!!!!!" But that may have been slightly inappropriate. Instead I allowed myself a relatively silent fistpump the moment the last scuffed shoe and slumped posture had exited the door. 

I have a feeling my students are under the impression that I actually didn't WANT to see them leave, in fact, one even said "don't miss us too bad miss, we'll be back soon", and hinted that they might bump into me at the local mall and that I MUST say hello!

So while I'm sipping my sparkling wine, eating Easter chocolate, lazing outside with a good book,  sleeping in til late, watching movies whenever I want and generally being a slob... I'll find time to toast a glass towards those dear students of mine... And I'll try my UTMOST not to miss them....

Dreams of ditches, Shakespeare and cats...

I used to have this joke with my friends at university. Every time things got a bit mad, and I started freaking out convinced I would either fail or have a nervous breakdown, I used to say that one day they will find me in a ditch, clutching homeless cats, and reciting Shakespeare. My version of a crazy cat lady. And we'd all laugh and they'd convince me that if that happened they would visit me, even going so far as to point out suitable ditches for me at the side of the road (I am now starting to wonder if this was more than just harmless jest, maybe they actually WANTED to get rid of me. Hah.). In any case, I landed up a teacher.

I am starting to find that ditch mighty appealing.

 LO class, grade 10. Going through the South African Bill of Human Rights.  Cue attitude-I-don't-give-a-damn-life-should-revolve-around-me student:

"Miss, if I have the right to an education, and its my right, then surely that means if I choose NOT to do homework, then that's my choice and you shouldn't be able to punish me? Its not like homework helps us anyway".

And people wonder why I don't want to have kids and bring them up in todays society.

I sincerely wished I could have gone into Shakespeare mode and dramatically pointed to her going: "OUT OUT DAMNED SPOT, OUT I SAY!!!!" and sent her scurrying out my classroom, never to be seen from or heard again.

But I'm afraid that may have been grounds for the school to fire me.... hmmm...

Anyone know of a good ditch?

Oh woe is me...

To mark or not to mark

That is the question

To suffer the grammar and spelling

Of outrageous answers

Or to take pen to the seas of paper

And by marking, finish them. 

To eat, to sleep, no more

And by sleep to say we end the long nights of

endless red pen...

Tis a possibility devoutly to be wished...

To eat, to sleep, perchance to dream,

ay, theres the rub, for in that sleep there

would be no failures and stupidity 

of students who shuffle through the mortal land of school.

As you may be able to tell.... I have a sea of marking... An endless torrent of work that never ends... my red pen is reaching it's end and I fear it's funeral is around the corner... Alas... Oh woe is me... 

I need coffee. Stat. 

        

Wait... I said WHAT?

LO lesson... aka sex education (as if teenagers these days actually need it...)

So there's me, long day, trying to talk 18 year olds out of having sex....

"Ladies, if you fall pregnant now, how many of you actually believe that the man will stick around? He's 18, he has a future, he doesn't want to stick around and take care of a baby. No ways. He will go off to varsity, his life ahead of him... and you will be stuck looking after a baby. Then ladies, you are screwed. Literally and figuratively..."

<silence>

<class erupts into laughter>

Sometimes I worry about myself... Am I really good for these kids?? The other day I caught myself speaking in memes... (yes, I know, the horror of it all). We were reading a play which had the word "arse" in it which my girls found hilarious. I informed them that since they all SHOULD have one, they should be able to say it without giggling. And then, in my best American accent I went, "Dat ASS, whooo!".... I thought I said it to myself... apparently... I didn't...

Note to self: Do not spend weekends procrastinating on 9gag when you should be marking... Only leads to jokes that only you find funny.

Most commonly asked question...

"Miss, MISS!"
"Yes?"
"Are you married miss?"
<silence>
"Listen to what you just said..."
"Wha... oh. Miss. Right."
<silence>
"But wait, MISS, you have a ring on your finger!"
"It's on my RIGHT hand girls..."
"Does that mean you're engaged???"



Sometimes... a face palm is the only adequate response.    

Idiosyncrasies...

I have discovered that I have a favourite red pen. Don't ask me what makes it special (and no, I haven't named it), but when I find myself faced with a mountain of marking, I search for my trusty friend, and cannot possibly mark effectively without it. All the other red pens in my collection seem inferior in comparison, and their ink not near as bright and cheerful, especially when circling a fail mark on a paper. In fact, when I do it with my special pen I almost feel like humming and even do it with a bit of a flourish! Oh, it just fits in my hand so well, and ticks with such ease. I don't know what I'm going to do when it runs out. Perhaps hold a funeral around the waste paper bin... 

I also seem to be addicted to giving stars. I know I'm dealing with teenagers here, but putting a star on one of their tests almost makes me break out into delighted giggling. In fact, sometimes I go mad and put TWO stars on the paper! Its crazy, I know, I'm just a daredevil like that. Maybe its the shock that one of them can actually get an A that sends me into this silver and pink shaped celestial madness, who knows.

 I've heard you can now get red pens that are erasable and if you put them in the deepfreeze, the original writing comes back. I feel like a kid whose just been told that you can now get candy that never runs out. Out with the age of correctional fluid! I need to get me one of those pens!!!