the thought of having children has never particularly appealed to me. first, there is the massive weight gain and the constantly full bladder. second, the uberpainful birthing process. third, the inevitable saggy boobs, stretch marks, and struggle to shed the aforementioned massive weight gain. lastly, the mere thought of having to deal with a miniature version of yours truly until safely dead and buried. i barely play well with children my own age.
that being said, it may seem a tad odd that someone as offspringaphobic as myself would knowingly sign up to substitute teach..but it was the week after moving home for the summer, i had an "in" in the school department, and i thought making fifty bucks for playing seven-up all day sounded like F-U-N.
yeah..no.
i should have known the day would be a little slice of hell when the first student came barrel-assing through the door, took one look at me, and barrel-assed right back out, shrieking, "SUB! SUB! SUB!" at the top of his lungs all the way back down to the foyer. when the rest of the childrens came in, they congregated in the back of the classroom near the closets, sizing me up as i wrote the lesson plan on the board. a few of them, sure to someday be "yes" men and women, left their cronies to point out the bad kids and identify themselves as the good ones. then, they asked if they could pass out some papers, which is something second-graders are completely addicted to and obsessed with. it's the cocaine of the elementary school world..and i was their druglord.
we started about 10 minutes late because apparently bells are a thing of the past. i took attendance and did the lunch count, they pledged their allegiance (to the flag) and sang some stupid song, then i announced that we had some math worksheets to do. i quickly learned that the word "work," when emitted from the mouth of a substitute, is like poison to an 8-year-old's ears. they groaned and whined the whole way through the lesson (which i actually understood..thanks to the teacher's manual..) and continued their vocal gymnastics when i suggested reading worksheets. did you know second-graders are learning words like "leisure?" i didn't. they didn't. i think we all just wanted to color or something.
snacktime was, 1.) NOT recess (the kids schooled me) and 2.) just as i had remembered it, a sweet 10 a.m. reprieve from anything valuable to my future. i sat at my desk in my cushy chair, eating my dry cereal and watching the class kick the crap out of each other. after twenty minutes, 7 of them went to the nurse..which they couldn't go to unless they brought a buddy..upping the 7 to 14. after snack/hospitalization time, i let the kiddies work together on some make-shift (read: please just shut the fuck up so my migraine ceases) art projects. some of the little kiss asses actually made "best teacher ever" cards..which they addressed to a "mrs. mattera." i brought them home to my mother. she liked them.
lunchtime = thank buddah those little satan spawns were out of my sight. i reveled in the half-hour of solitude, literally skipping around the empty classroom and calculating the nanoseconds until dismissal. when i went down to pick the crapweasels up from the caf, i was greeted with several "hey! he loves you and wants to marry you!'s" and a plethora of tiny hands wanting to style my hair. no thanks, especially not after eating a fluffernutter. after a pee break and coat grab, it was time for recess (NOT snack, the kids schooled me again), where some woman from a nearby zoo entertained the kids with parrots and opossums and cockroaches (oh MY..). i didn't have to do anything. i smiled to myself and contemplated what kind of cocktail i would mix myself when i got home.
back into the classroom, where i screamed at the hellions to keep it down until the librarian came to pick them up for, what else, library time. ah yes..another half-hour of blissful silence as the youngins struggled to pronounce three-syllable words. when they returned, my father had the bright idea to bring down a tank of garden snakes from his classroom. pretty dim, pops. those damn reptiles started more fights and induced more tears than could ever be found anywhere on the planet..except maybe at a european futbol match or the daytime emmys. another temple-throbbing episode, followed by more screaming and threats of leaving a bad note for the teacher until it was time to go home..all this without playing even one game of seven up. dag, yo.
now here i sit, not even two hours after leaving that temple of doom and already dreading my reprise role on monday morning. as my age climbs closer and closer to that plateau we call "mid-life," the mere thought of procreation still makes me a little queasy..and no, it's not morning sickness. i think that until children to be born as fully-developed 18-year-olds ready to go off to college instead of the squirmy, pink annoyances they currently enter this world as, this gal will not be contributing to the globe's overpopulation any time soon. you'll thank me.
..heads up, seven-up you little bitches!
lex
that being said, it may seem a tad odd that someone as offspringaphobic as myself would knowingly sign up to substitute teach..but it was the week after moving home for the summer, i had an "in" in the school department, and i thought making fifty bucks for playing seven-up all day sounded like F-U-N.
yeah..no.
i should have known the day would be a little slice of hell when the first student came barrel-assing through the door, took one look at me, and barrel-assed right back out, shrieking, "SUB! SUB! SUB!" at the top of his lungs all the way back down to the foyer. when the rest of the childrens came in, they congregated in the back of the classroom near the closets, sizing me up as i wrote the lesson plan on the board. a few of them, sure to someday be "yes" men and women, left their cronies to point out the bad kids and identify themselves as the good ones. then, they asked if they could pass out some papers, which is something second-graders are completely addicted to and obsessed with. it's the cocaine of the elementary school world..and i was their druglord.
we started about 10 minutes late because apparently bells are a thing of the past. i took attendance and did the lunch count, they pledged their allegiance (to the flag) and sang some stupid song, then i announced that we had some math worksheets to do. i quickly learned that the word "work," when emitted from the mouth of a substitute, is like poison to an 8-year-old's ears. they groaned and whined the whole way through the lesson (which i actually understood..thanks to the teacher's manual..) and continued their vocal gymnastics when i suggested reading worksheets. did you know second-graders are learning words like "leisure?" i didn't. they didn't. i think we all just wanted to color or something.
snacktime was, 1.) NOT recess (the kids schooled me) and 2.) just as i had remembered it, a sweet 10 a.m. reprieve from anything valuable to my future. i sat at my desk in my cushy chair, eating my dry cereal and watching the class kick the crap out of each other. after twenty minutes, 7 of them went to the nurse..which they couldn't go to unless they brought a buddy..upping the 7 to 14. after snack/hospitalization time, i let the kiddies work together on some make-shift (read: please just shut the fuck up so my migraine ceases) art projects. some of the little kiss asses actually made "best teacher ever" cards..which they addressed to a "mrs. mattera." i brought them home to my mother. she liked them.
lunchtime = thank buddah those little satan spawns were out of my sight. i reveled in the half-hour of solitude, literally skipping around the empty classroom and calculating the nanoseconds until dismissal. when i went down to pick the crapweasels up from the caf, i was greeted with several "hey! he loves you and wants to marry you!'s" and a plethora of tiny hands wanting to style my hair. no thanks, especially not after eating a fluffernutter. after a pee break and coat grab, it was time for recess (NOT snack, the kids schooled me again), where some woman from a nearby zoo entertained the kids with parrots and opossums and cockroaches (oh MY..). i didn't have to do anything. i smiled to myself and contemplated what kind of cocktail i would mix myself when i got home.
back into the classroom, where i screamed at the hellions to keep it down until the librarian came to pick them up for, what else, library time. ah yes..another half-hour of blissful silence as the youngins struggled to pronounce three-syllable words. when they returned, my father had the bright idea to bring down a tank of garden snakes from his classroom. pretty dim, pops. those damn reptiles started more fights and induced more tears than could ever be found anywhere on the planet..except maybe at a european futbol match or the daytime emmys. another temple-throbbing episode, followed by more screaming and threats of leaving a bad note for the teacher until it was time to go home..all this without playing even one game of seven up. dag, yo.
now here i sit, not even two hours after leaving that temple of doom and already dreading my reprise role on monday morning. as my age climbs closer and closer to that plateau we call "mid-life," the mere thought of procreation still makes me a little queasy..and no, it's not morning sickness. i think that until children to be born as fully-developed 18-year-olds ready to go off to college instead of the squirmy, pink annoyances they currently enter this world as, this gal will not be contributing to the globe's overpopulation any time soon. you'll thank me.
..heads up, seven-up you little bitches!
lex