Today I hate people.
Admittedly, most days I hate people. I’m an introvert and I like quiet. And, you know, NOT being around…people.
And, if this is your first time visiting this blog you might be surprised to know, given my general distaste for humanity, that I am a teacher. Of teenagers. Pretty much the worst people of all people.
I actually really seriously dislike children. I mean, mine are cool, but yours suck. No offense.
I kid only sort of.
On a serious note (for once), I actually tremendously love working with high school students. I like talking with them. I like helping them with their ridiculous dramatic bullshit. I like talking to them about Star Wars. I like watching them “get it” for the first time. I seriously fucking love my job. I am truly an introvert and I prefer quiet to parties, but my favorite thing of all of the things is discussing Hamlet with a group of hungry AP English Literature students.
But, today, I had to cover a 7th grade Math class. Just let that sink in: I hate numbers more than I hate people. And, remember I hate children, but not teenagers. Seventh graders are CHILDREN. Don’t talk to me until you’ve made it at least one full day past your 14th birthday. Even then, I don’t really want to talk to you for very long periods of time until about halfway through your freshman year of high school.
Seniors? Give me all of the seniors all of the days. Love ’em. Lazy sons-a-bitches. Those kids are my jaaaaam.
Sure, my piss-poor attitude today is colored by the fact that by 8:00 this morning, I had dealt with two students who were ethnically intimidating a Middle-Eastern refugee student and one student who told another to “eat balls.” This week, I have been trying to stop a small group of boys in their attempt to mercilessly and evilly bully a weaker kid. I’ve been failing at this miserably since the bullied kid is so bullied that he is too terrified to admit to the bullying so we can proceed with assistance for him. I’m trying desperately to get a student scheduled into all of her appropriate classes for her junior and senior years because her parents do not speak English and they cannot advocate for her at school here. So I do. I’m trying to encourage a kid I’ve been mentoring for four years to finish all of the credit recovery programming he’s been working on so he can have enough credits to graduate in June. He probably won’t make it. I’ll be devastated when/if he ultimately drops out of high school.
I’ll go home today to a car with only three working tires. My kids will need help with their homework. I will have to cook dinner — from scratch because I am trying desperately not to pour a bunch of food additives, processed garbage and sugar into my family’s bodies. I’ll care for my aging dog who was diagnosed yesterday with cataracts. I’ll probably not get to the gym though I consider this a “gym day.” I’m not trying to get into a bikini or impress anyone, but I am trying to get stronger and healthier and today that will have to wait.
It is hard to be a working mom.
That’s it. This is hard. And I hate people. And I’m tired. And this is hard. And I love it. And hate it. And…this is hard.