That’s what happened, I blinked

Published September 14, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I finished my first three weeks of teaching full time. I’m only limping a little (On the inside, not the outside.) This week was challenging, in a word. In two words it was Incredibly Frustrating.

It kicked off with a Lockdown drill.

It saddens and alarms me that such things exist, but in the event of the need to secure all of the children in all of the classes we need to be prepared. My room is the safest place to be because it is an interior room with an interior closet; it’s basically a concrete bunker inside of another bunker.  I will not disclose the details of our drills on the grounds that it is a security measure. I want my students to be as safe as possible.

There was some misbehavior during this drill that created the need to send some students to lunch detention. I have never done this before, so I had to do some background work from that point on.  It was a bizarre day from that point on.

Tuesday I had to make sure the kids got to lunch detention. I also had to stay after school for a few hour to work on grades. This is grim, but necessary. This is part of the thing I have to do to catch up with what I missed that first week.

Wednesday was challenging because it was chaos.  One of the 9th grade teachers took pity on me and loaned me a megaphone to be heard over the rowdiness. This worked for about five minutes. My mean girl super model class was in rare form; the kind of form that required me to rework the seating plan and consider requesting a prescription for Xanax.

Thursday showed me that the seating chart was a miserable failure. I also reconfigured the classroom so that I could at least see all of the faces of my biggest class (I was mistaken. There are not 43 kids in there anymore; there is 37.)  That worked well. That class is the only one that got everything done.

I’m not far enough removed from Friday’s debacle to objectively discuss it.

There were some good parts, too. One of my classes has some boys who insist of interpreting everything as a rap. It never occurred to me that “Dramaturg” rhymed with “Research.” My advanced class performed their vocabulary as an interpretive dance.

Just in case anyone might think I have no life outside of my job (I don’t.) I also spent an evening chatting with one of Elle’s Beta Readers, CWH. CWH gave her some ideas about developing the story.  There was also some feedback that said that I am not wasting my time barking up that tree.

We shall see.

For, Fiddle-Dee-Dee, Tomorrow is another day!

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