Memories From Teaching
I don't know if it's because it is the end of the school year, or because a favorite administrator of mine passed away, but I have been thinking about my years in education. I won't lie, I have some memories that I am a little embarrassed about, some that I was not my best self, and some that touch my heart.
1. My 2nd or 3rd year teaching one of my students told me I could kiss his a$$, I responded (in a yell), "YOU CAN KISS MINE, ON THE WAY TO THE OFFICE!!!!" I clearly remembering stomping down the hall with that kid in tow. He had an easy 50 pounds on me, baggy pants, and dark brown hair, and a bad attitude (a crazy mother too).
2. One semester I taught a classroom with twelve 10th grade boys and two girls that did not speak English. One of the boys brought fart spray- frequently to class. It smelled awful! I decided payback would be the best solution to this problem, so I brought Lysol- the medical smelling variety- and every time he'd spray fart spray, I'd spray Lysol. Thank God no one had asthma.
3. I stopped by to speak with an assistant principal, and she passed me some papers, and said, "Would you look at what a student printed out today?!!" One glance at those pictures and I was scarred for life: it was pictures of people have intercourse with farm animals.
4. A different class with mostly boys, and we were talking about restaurants we loved to go to, and one of the kids said, "I love Dick's Last Resort, down at the beach." I said, (loudly and with enthusiasm) "OH! I LOVE DICKS!!!" There was silence, and then finally one of them said, "I guess that works out for Latta."
5. My 10th year of teaching I was teaching the WORST group of children ever. Seriously. A majority of them either dropped out, or have since been in jail. I don't remember what about that particular day was so bad, but after they all left, I sat in the room and cried. A principal happened by (the same one who scarred me for life) and all I could say was, "This is my 10th year teaching . . . how can I not get this under control?!" Looking back now and knowing where I know some of them are- there was, unfortunately, no hope for that group.
6. September 11, 2001. I remember what classroom I was in, who my principal was that made the announcement to tell us about The Attacks, what the weather was like, and what kids were in the room with me, and watching the coverage.
7. The students. Not all of them. Probably not even most of them, but a lot of them. Surprisingly I don't remember the pain in the rear ends. I mostly remember the kids I connected with. I remember how proud I was for them when they graduated, or did a good job on their exams, or how much I enjoyed organizing their notebooks and book bags- repeatedly, or just joking around with them or seeing them at prom.
8. My First Special Needs Prom. I cried. Of course, I was pregnant at the time- so I cried a lot, but I remember looking at my students and the innocent joy and the genuine happiness shining on their sweet faces and I cried. I still do when I think of it. Such a simple thing, but it made them so happy.
9. I had a student who threw an absolutely epic temper tantrum. I wouldn't let her watch Jimmy Neutron videos and so she threw a table over, ripped my shirt, and stripped in the middle of the media center. That was not her worst, nor her only temper tantrum, but it was her first. After the first incident we learned a few lessons and, we'd clear the room and let her have at it. Then I'd sit at my computer checking my email and eating my lunch and ignoring her. Won't lie- the ridiculousness of that situation always made me laugh- after the first time. The first time- if I hadn't had Andrew and just bought a car- I would have quit.
10. One time I was introducing a short story we were about to read. It was by a Russian author: Anton Chekov. A student (the same one with the fart spray) asked me to repeat the name, so I did. And again. Meanwhile, my co-teacher/friend is in the back wildly waving her hands and shaking her head for me to stop. After class she said- "It sounds like jack off." Duh! We also had to change the words to stories that talked about fighting cocks, and a guy carrying a large package that got dislodged. I have decided that I have the mind of a 15 year old boy- for defensive purposes.
I honestly can't even imagine doing anything other than teaching. What other job has so much entertainment value?!
1. My 2nd or 3rd year teaching one of my students told me I could kiss his a$$, I responded (in a yell), "YOU CAN KISS MINE, ON THE WAY TO THE OFFICE!!!!" I clearly remembering stomping down the hall with that kid in tow. He had an easy 50 pounds on me, baggy pants, and dark brown hair, and a bad attitude (a crazy mother too).
2. One semester I taught a classroom with twelve 10th grade boys and two girls that did not speak English. One of the boys brought fart spray- frequently to class. It smelled awful! I decided payback would be the best solution to this problem, so I brought Lysol- the medical smelling variety- and every time he'd spray fart spray, I'd spray Lysol. Thank God no one had asthma.
3. I stopped by to speak with an assistant principal, and she passed me some papers, and said, "Would you look at what a student printed out today?!!" One glance at those pictures and I was scarred for life: it was pictures of people have intercourse with farm animals.
4. A different class with mostly boys, and we were talking about restaurants we loved to go to, and one of the kids said, "I love Dick's Last Resort, down at the beach." I said, (loudly and with enthusiasm) "OH! I LOVE DICKS!!!" There was silence, and then finally one of them said, "I guess that works out for Latta."
5. My 10th year of teaching I was teaching the WORST group of children ever. Seriously. A majority of them either dropped out, or have since been in jail. I don't remember what about that particular day was so bad, but after they all left, I sat in the room and cried. A principal happened by (the same one who scarred me for life) and all I could say was, "This is my 10th year teaching . . . how can I not get this under control?!" Looking back now and knowing where I know some of them are- there was, unfortunately, no hope for that group.
6. September 11, 2001. I remember what classroom I was in, who my principal was that made the announcement to tell us about The Attacks, what the weather was like, and what kids were in the room with me, and watching the coverage.
7. The students. Not all of them. Probably not even most of them, but a lot of them. Surprisingly I don't remember the pain in the rear ends. I mostly remember the kids I connected with. I remember how proud I was for them when they graduated, or did a good job on their exams, or how much I enjoyed organizing their notebooks and book bags- repeatedly, or just joking around with them or seeing them at prom.
8. My First Special Needs Prom. I cried. Of course, I was pregnant at the time- so I cried a lot, but I remember looking at my students and the innocent joy and the genuine happiness shining on their sweet faces and I cried. I still do when I think of it. Such a simple thing, but it made them so happy.
9. I had a student who threw an absolutely epic temper tantrum. I wouldn't let her watch Jimmy Neutron videos and so she threw a table over, ripped my shirt, and stripped in the middle of the media center. That was not her worst, nor her only temper tantrum, but it was her first. After the first incident we learned a few lessons and, we'd clear the room and let her have at it. Then I'd sit at my computer checking my email and eating my lunch and ignoring her. Won't lie- the ridiculousness of that situation always made me laugh- after the first time. The first time- if I hadn't had Andrew and just bought a car- I would have quit.
10. One time I was introducing a short story we were about to read. It was by a Russian author: Anton Chekov. A student (the same one with the fart spray) asked me to repeat the name, so I did. And again. Meanwhile, my co-teacher/friend is in the back wildly waving her hands and shaking her head for me to stop. After class she said- "It sounds like jack off." Duh! We also had to change the words to stories that talked about fighting cocks, and a guy carrying a large package that got dislodged. I have decided that I have the mind of a 15 year old boy- for defensive purposes.
I honestly can't even imagine doing anything other than teaching. What other job has so much entertainment value?!
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