• Yes, evil teacher here because I accused a student of plagiarizing an essay. About three-quarters of his essay was word for word from an online essay. His mother, unfortunately, accused me of underestimating the intelligence of her child. She, unfortunately, believed her son when he told her, “NO, of course I did not plagiarize. The horrible, terrible teacher who has been yelling at me all year because I never stop talking in class or calling out or laughing in a stupid guffaw way or saying stupid things doesn’t like me.” Ugh. Two days of accusations against me, with stern notes to the assistant principal until under extreme pressure (torture?) the student admitted to the assistant principal that he did get “some” help from “someone.” I guess after an at-home council he admitted to more to Momsy because suddenly the mother apologized to me. Thanks, but it would have been nicer if you didn’t think I’m the evil teacher from Mathilda (Agatha Trunchbull,) and confronted your son and not me.
• Yesterday, after a colleague declined to help another colleague, after another colleague suddenly realized that he couldn’t help, I was asked to help. Of course I said yes. So, poof, there went my planning period. Well, it didn’t totally disappear, I just had to spend it supervising five students taking a final exam in the room of the teacher who had declined to help.
• Today, I was told by the head of the department that I need to sit in on a meeting for her for five to ten minutes, which is generally how long a regular teacher needs to sit in on these meetings. But today, of course, it was special, so instead of a diversion from my planning period, I got to sit in a meeting for 45 minutes about a girl I never met and will most likely will never meet when I finally said that I have to teach a class in five minutes (and I have to pee and eat something). They were oh, so gracious, in letting me leave—even though I had asked the person running the meeting before it started if I could leave after a first few minutes.
o Just as I left the meeting, my department chair appeared. There was a sorry sorry sorry, and when she tried to catch up to me after talking to someone she ran on the knee that she had operated on two months ago, and then there was a “what do you want from Starbucks?” I am so hoping my thank you and sorry chai tea latte appears tomorrow morning.
• This might sound callous, it’s not, it’s just an expression of frustration or exhaustion or enough! Or maybe it’s just being selfish, which I think we all need once in a while. A close relative of my team teacher’s was killed in a car accident this past weekend, which means that he was physically absent and even more absent-even-when-present than usual. I do care, honestly, but I’m just tired of having to do more and tired of the help I’m supposed to have not helping me. And I need to work on this inter-personal relationship because next year we are slated to teach three classes again together. And maybe, too, the ache of his loss has also seeped into me.
• Today, at seven this morning I asked that same team teacher to help me out with something (or to do his job), but he didn’t manage to partially help until around noon, and after a direct request (as in face-to-face and not via email). And he hadn’t even arrived at our joint planning period until after I went to the extensive meeting because he was covering his wife’s class. So I guess it looks like he did something good, but HELLO, how about the part of your job that is your job. Which is what makes dealing with him so difficult, he is all there for his wife, which is lovely and wonderful, so how do I tell him to do that less? Priorities? I don't know about that either.
Yes, there is life outside of school (which will be over in a week. Come to think of it, they both end--as in sale of the house--on the same day).
• On Tuesday when I called the high school where younger daughter is to attend I was told that I need to bring her transcript, birth certificate, immunization record and copy of the rental agreement to register her. Now this is merely another high school in the same county, but the woman told me that I still need to bring all of that stuff and call her when I’m ready so that we can set up an appointment. When I called on Wednesday (as in the next day) she told me that they were too busy and could only register her in August. Really? And that’s all because the middle school screwed up and didn’t process the paperwork that I requested more than three weeks ago.
• Yesterday slime stood in front of my locked door and screamed at me about something (most likely my not wanting to sign a paper at settlement that says I agree to the 50/50 division of the proceeds from the house sale since he owes the mortgage company $10,000 in late payments) during “Love’s Divine” and a very long version of “Like a Rolling Stone” performed by the Rolling Stones. After his performance I decided against sleeping on the couch in the TV room and slept, instead, on the floor of my locked bedroom. ONE MORE NIGHT--TONIGHT.
• I went to my synagogue this afternoon to donate things for the rummage sale. I helped an older man bring a box of things into the storage area. (Okay, I walked beside him just in case the box slipped, and then picked it up and put in on the floor for him.) Then I went back to my car to get more things, which is when my daughter called. Between those three things, my car keys disappeared. And my car was locked.
o The man was kind enough to drive me home where I picked up my two spare keys and then drove me back.
o The keys have still not been found.
o They keys have just been found in the car of the man who drove me home. They must have been on my person somewhere and fell out. How odd. But part of the mystery is solved.
• I received an email that the three checks that were sent to my daughter in December, January and February for $30 each for work she had done at temple tutoring Hebrew, which I never saw nor did she, had been cashed. This was after they issued a new check which I long ago deposited. Well, it seems that dear slimy daddy had held the checks and recently decided to cash them (into her account?). Now she told me that she told him that she had already gotten the money, but he decided to cash them anyway--to see if they had been cancelled. In effect, he was trying to cheat temple out of $100. Slime. Great lesson to his daughter.
• Just as I was about to leave the house to go to the supermarket with younger daughter so that she could pick up things to bake a cake for her journalism class tomorrow the realtor called to say that the settlement attorney couldn’t withhold any of the money from the sale of the house and put it in escrow. At which point I told her that I had enough and I can’t talk to her now, to call later or tomorrow.
• I cried in the car. Little, dripping tears. That was until I pulled my car into the parking lot and read the license plate of the car in front of me. It read ILVBLY. At which I thought, weird wording but not too weird compared to some of the things I’ve seen around here. That was until I read the license plate holder or whatever that thing is called. On it was written: Parents of Murdered Children, at which a sob came out. The momentary connection to someone else’s pain just permeated me, and tore into my compendium of annoyances and squeezed me of breath.
• The happy note that I need to end with is that a student in one of my classes made a friendship bracelet for me. (It’s like camp at my school with the girls scotch taping threads onto their desks and then knotting these bracelets. Since we’ve been watching West Side Story for a few days I’m okay with it, but I did have to tell them to put their threads away so that they could take their comma test.) Thank you thank you thank you for that. I will try to have it force out of my mind the students who I didn’t reach this year and who drove my frustrations out.