Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Monday, September 15, 2003
I hate it. I do. Maybe I am giving in to the panic of feeling like I can't do this. But these kids are killin' me.

They just don't care. They don't care if they pass or fail. They don't care if their parents are proud of them or not. They don't care if they have detention or not. I tell them day after day, if they would mind me and not make me mad at them every five minutes, we could have fun activities. But we can't. Because if I put them in groups or give them scissors, they freak out like lunatics until I am shouting at them to please quiet down and eventually half the class is sitting in corners and the other half has detentions and I have a headache. And then they send me hate mail about how boring my class is.

It is one of the most difficult and heartwrenching experiences I have ever had to have to stand in front of groups of people who hate me all day long. I enjoy being loved. These kids wish me harm. I wish them the best, but can't imagine how they will have it.

I have to go make a hundred evil parent calls where I tell them their kid is a jerk. I do not like this job. I want to do something where people have to at least pretend that they like me.

Oh, and there is going to be a hurricane here on Thursday, apparently. I am supposed to go buy bottled water and candles or some shit. What is that all about?

No comments:

Post a Comment