Eructation, Flatulence And Other Funny Noises? A Re-Blog

As I’ve said before, if you are a teacher you need a sense of humor.  The minute someone farts, burps or makes some other weird noise, you lose all control of the classroom for a few minutes.  The giggling and laughing overtake the room.  The sarcastic comments from the kids flood the class with a host of accusations about who farted, burped or otherwise.  When my stiletto makes a squeak on the floor I too find it necessary to say, “That was my shoe, not me”.

I started writing about this topic when my period 10 class was amidst presentations.  The room was quiet, someone walked up to present and yes, someone farted.  Though the offender was never confirmed we all had our ideas.  Although I am against farting in class, you have to feel for a kid who accidentally slips one out.  Who would want to admit that in school?  Your friends don’t care but among a host of mixed company you will be socially destroyed.

My friend (who shall be nameless) used to fart in the car, lock the windows and put the heat on full blast.  This wasn’t fitting behavior for 17 & 18-year-old young women – but when alone we did act pretty gross.  The same friend passed gas in my face during a Twister grudge match in her living room.  I did not falter but my nose did.  Despite her flatulence, she is still my friend today.

We grow up (at least I did) thinking farting was the funniest thing ever.  Our fathers farted and made jokes about.  My Poppy was an equal offender.  And almost every guy I dated (for a significant period of time – including my spouse) was a Lothario of Farts who thought they seduced women with their perfume.  At a really young age I may have found it funny but at this point in my life I’m just grossed out.

I mean, I couldn’t say the word “fart” in mixed company until I started teaching.  I always said “passed gas” because it was more elegant – I’m not sure how that can be elegant but maybe I’m looking for the words proper or correct.  I was baptized into my first year teaching by a student and his farts.  I had a class of 10th or 11th grade boys with one poor girl thrown in.  I couldn’t take the gas so I made the guilty student go outside, shake it out a bit and come back in EVERY SINGLE time.  And he did.  The best was when someone walked into it after he left the hallway.  I couldn’t help but crack up by the look on the poor kid’s face who walked into that horror show of an odor.  Yes, I found it funny as well.

Kids will be kids – but I can’t say that without saying – old people with be old people.  Today I was walking around Target when I ducked into the magazine aisle to find a lo-cal recipe for tonight’s dinner.  As soon as I grabbed a magazine an old lady loudly farted and looked around to see if anyone had heard her indiscretion.  I avoided eye contact and quickly threw the magazine back in the rack and got out of there quickly.  Ew.  I was thoroughly grossed out then I remembered that I knew people who did that too.  They would offend and walk away and leave it lingering for all to walk through.  I don’t think I ever did that.  Maybe once in an emergency but never on purpose.

Everyone passes gas, burps, poops and pees but we all pretend that we don’t.  Some middle school boys may have a rude awakening in the future when they discover that girls actually do all these things too.  We blame it on the cat or dog or someone else.  Whoever smelt it dealt it.  Whoever denied it supplied it.  Are there any new ones?

Girls, boys, men women, dogs, cats.  Why are these noises so funny?  Is it innate, learned, spontaneous or just plain old bad manners?

Image: Clare Bloomfield / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

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Happy To Be Back… A Reblog from 2010

Bopping back and forth from the bed to the bathroom floor was not my idea of fun these last few days.  Stuck in the house with a stomach virus since Tuesday when I foolishly tried to go to work gave me time to ponder.  Ponder what, I don’t know.  Maybe I should have thought about my idiocy when I got in the car at 7 am to head to work.

From 2 am to 6 am I spent most of my time with my head in the toilet or my ass in the same place.  Just typing that “skeeves me out”.  Ass – face, ass – face, ass – face.  Our heads should never been where our asses have already been but I get it’s one necessary evil for all of us at one time or another.

So at 6:30 I got up, showered, dressed and headed up the Garden State Parkway with 2 Ziploc bags as my passengers.  Halfway up the parkway, the cold sweats started and I started to get dizzy and nauseous.  I grabbed my first passenger and drove the rest of the way, Ziploc bag beneath my chin and praying I wouldn’t have to pull over.  Damn John!  I thought I had food poisoning from the Mascarpone cheesecake that he baked the night before.  I couldn’t believe it was getting worse instead of better.

When I pulled into the Dwight Road faculty parking lot, I didn’t think I had the strength to get out of the car.  I waited a few minutes and mustered up some vigor and staggered into the building, up the stairs and right into the bathroom heading for my stall.  I was sick again!  I must have been crazy for coming in.  What was I thinking?

I called my friend Barb (who is the school nurse) from my Blackberry while I was sitting on the dirty floor of the handicapped bathroom and explained my predicament.  She met me in the hallway and told me that I should leave and she would let the office know what was going on.  I teetered to my room and starting writing plans.

Tout a coup a sub was at my side and I was sent home.  I felt like I was in high school again.  I managed to drive directly to the doctor’s office to find out what was wrong.  The doc checked me out, took a couple of samples, gave me a VERY painful shot in my ass, handed me 2 prescriptions and sent me on my way home.

It took me 3 days to recupe both my health and my dignity but I returned to work today.  I woke up at 5 am and couldn’t wait to leave the house.  Did I mention that John is home all day?

I got there at 7 and couldn’t believe how happy I was to be at work.  I needed human conversation.  No meowing, no fur, no skid marks on the cat safety sheet.  I needed my routine - surtout, my sanity.  Don’t get me wrong, when I was lying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night my 2 wonderful and caring kitties were by my side the entire time while my husband was snoring peacefully in his room.  I just needed to be with my kids at work.  All of the kids, even my skootches.  It would be a great day!

A great day until a few of my 4th period skootches informed me that someone had left my phone number from the fax on their dittos.  ”Ooooo.  I have senora’s number.”  Great!  Now the prank calling would start.  I told them, “Big deal, rip it off the ditto and don’t call me.”  They giggled and I forgot about it…

Until 7:39 pm this evening when I received my first prank call from a “Raul”.  I promptly laughed it off, told them to stop bugging me and not to call again.  They hung up and I dialed *57 to trace the call.  We’ll see what happens on the phone front.  Ugh!

Did I say I was happy to be back at work?

© 2011  J. H-M and CultureChoc2010

Image: zmkstudio / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Do The Excuses Ever Stop? Enabling, Mommy Texting and Other Evils – A Re-examination From A Teacher’s Point of View

I wrote this post back in June but every year it seems to get worse.  The pussy generation is getting bigger and bigger and I am going crazier and crazier.

Psycho parents… qu’est-ce que c’est?

The school year is winding down and most World Language classes are preparing for final exams. Both the students taking exams and the teachers giving them are stressed, to say the least.  The school year is finally getting into full swing and the stress levels are mounting.  I have such issues with what’s happening with many in this generation of children.

EVIL NUMBER ONE: Enabling.  The last thing we need is more stress.  It’s the end of the year for Christ’s sake!  Four full days.  Four full days of exams.  Four half days for students and 1 day of graduation.  So why are parents still making excuses?  Why are guidance and the CST still ENABLING?

Because it’s all about the CHILDREN?  Give me a break.  If it were all about the children, there would be consequences.  Consequences for bad behavior, laziness and truancy are just a few.  If it were about the children there would be more administrative discipline, more in and out of school suspensions and more children being retained.

Why do the powers that be insist on pushing kids through when they do absolutely NOTHING, they can’t read or write and they are horrible disruptions to the entire class?  Let them fail.  Maybe it would be a good wake-up call for these students and their parents.  Maybe if their kid is 16 and still 7th grade, they would be so ashamed that they would finally stand up and be good parents.

Parents need to stop being their children’s friends and start acting like moms and dads.  Start acting like parents.  Kids need discipline.  Kids need consequences and boundaries.  Caregivers at home and school should be able to recognize the manipulators – and there are many.  I get sick to my stomach every time I think about it.

I know teenagers.  They will manipulate, lie and try to get away with as much as possible if you let them.  That’s normal.  Allowing them to have a free-for-all is NOT!  We were all teenagers once.  We were the same but we had the fear of God and our parents.

I was afraid of my parents.  Afraid of disappointing them and afraid of getting trouble.  So many children nowadays have NO FEAR.  Seriously, no fear.  I’ve been in IEP meeting when a young girl stood up and called her mother a Bitch.  Mommy would have back-handed me – but I don’t think I would have had the nerve to say something like that to begin with.

EVIL NUMBER TWO:  Mommy Texting.  Did you ever e-mail a parent or give them a call to update them on their child’s progress or lack thereof and 10 minutes later, their child comes bursting into your room, in the middle of your class, protesting with a foul attitude?  This is a result of Mommy Texting.  A text sent to a student by his or her mommy telling them what Ms. So And So said about them.  Where do they get their nerve?  No cell phones in school means NOTHING.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  Rewards for social retardation.  Ice cream for the mal élévé.  How can rewards, such as pretzels, candy and ice cream be a punishment for bad social behavior.  Slamming your backpack on a desk, fighting with classmates, overtly hating and alienating everyone around you and doing ZERO, nothing, nada, niente and rien are surely great reasons to be penalized by ice cream and sugar.  All the other kids talk about it.  It’s embarrassing.  I’m embarrassed for them.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  The Running Excuse Via Parental Manipulation. “Ms. Jones, please e-mail me as soon as Fred starts having problems.”  Why do I bother?  With 13 days left of school I’m still hearing the same old song.  He said he did the work.  He said he’s not talking.  He said he’s paying attention but just doesn’t get it.  Well… get your ass in here for extra help and stop whining!  We did it in class TOGETHER.  It was a class assignment and if you did nothing (which is probably the case), you had to take it home for homework.  I can’t wipe your asses for you dears.  Someday YOU will be accountable.  I cannot wait for the day!

So when will this generation (and I’m not talking about all of you – you know who you are) of parents rise to the occasion and step up to mold their children into hard-working, productive, non-whining members of society?  When?

I don’t know if that day will ever come but I wish they would stop masking their poor parenting skills and own up to it.  In my opinion we’re raising a weak generation of complainers.

Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up to see the pussification of America at its best!

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image: Suat Eman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

 

It’s The Weekend…

It’s the weekend, so check out some of my posts or pages that you haven’t seen!

Cooking In Stilettos; The Page, Not The Blog

Dinner At The Bar

Journal of A Dieting Diva

Shake It Like A Polaroid

Shoe Shock

Enjoy your weekend!

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Why Teachers Need Summers Off

In loco parentis.  Is this really true?  For 185 days we teach, we enlighten and frankly babysit other people’s children.  We can’t beat them (well, in some states you can – maybe I should move there), we are often unable to punish them effectively (there is often no follow-through).  We can’t take their IPODS & cell phones away for any extended period of time.  We can’t ground them.  We can’t even assess book fines without someone whining profusely, then calling administration to complain about the fine – oh and don’t forget checking to see if the others have wiped their asses too.  We can’t even give a quiz, test or exam without some kind of negative brouhaha.

So how the f**** parental are we?  I say, not very.

Many parents need parents.  Maybe they should go back home and remember what they were taught as younggins.  That teachers should be respected not disrespected.  If I came home with a book fine, my parents would not question the teacher, they would pay the fine.  I find it ridiculous and frankly embarrassing that no one is responsible for their own actions anymore.  When does it stop?  Does it ever?

People.  Take responsibility for you own actions.  EVERYONE!

Before becoming a teacher, I never understood why teachers had sick days.  I guess I just figured that you can train your body to be sick only in the off months.  Was I wrong!  Working in a school is like living in a prime germ incubation bubble that is relentless.  If you have a terrible immune system like mine, you’ll be sure to catch EVERYTHING – and I do catch everything.  I welcome the sick days because, frankly, I need them when I’m so ill that I can’t function enough to get out of bed.

Summer is another story.  Summer recharges your batteries.  It refreshes you after be being beaten down all year by students and parents (not all of them) and other powers that be.  By June I’m ready to commit murder, seriously hurt someone or just pick up my purse and leave.  In this current economic environment – not such a good idea.  Mental health days are a must.  A necessary evil so that you keep your job when all your common sense and composure seem to leap out the window and cause you to snap like a twig.

It’s really difficult not to lose your cool when tensions are high and morale is down – the current environment in NJ and elsewhere has not been very teacher-friendly.  Summer is my saviour:  job saviour, people saviour, savior from jail, etc….

By mid-August I’m ready to go back (unless I’m on some fabulous vacation) to work and start off fresh.  I love summer because I can relax, veg or get stuff done around the house.  If you are someone who wants to teach, don’t do it for the vacation time (you won’t survive), do it because you love teaching and you’re not afraid of hard work.

Happy Summer!

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Eructation, Flatulence And Other Funny Noises?

As I’ve said before, if you are a teacher you need a sense of humor.  The minute someone farts, burps or makes some other weird noise, you lose all control of the classroom for a few minutes.  The giggling and laughing overtake the room.  The sarcastic comments from the kids flood the class with a host of accusations about who farted, burped or otherwise.  When my stiletto makes a squeak on the floor I too find it necessary to say, “That was my shoe, not me”.

I started writing about this topic when my period 10 class was amidst presentations.  The room was quiet, someone walked up to present and yes, someone farted.  Though the offender was never confirmed we all had our ideas.  Although I am against farting in class, you have to feel for a kid who accidentally slips one out.  Who would want to admit that in school?  Your friends don’t care but among a host of mixed company you will be socially destroyed.

My friend (who shall be nameless) used to fart in the car, lock the windows and put the heat on full blast.  This wasn’t fitting behavior for 17 & 18-year-old young women – but when alone we did act pretty gross.  The same friend passed gas in my face during a Twister grudge match in her living room.  I did not falter but my nose did.  Despite her flatulence, she is still my friend today.

We grow up (at least I did) thinking farting was the funniest thing ever.  Our fathers farted and made jokes about.  My Poppy was an equal offender.  And almost every guy I dated (for a significant period of time – including my spouse) was a Lothario of Farts who thought they seduced women with their perfume.  At a really young age I may have found it funny but at this point in my life I’m just grossed out.

I mean, I couldn’t say the word “fart” in mixed company until I started teaching.  I always said “passed gas” because it was more elegant – I’m not sure how that can be elegant but maybe I’m looking for the words proper or correct.  I was baptized into my first year teaching by a student and his farts.  I had a class of 10th or 11th grade boys with one poor girl thrown in.  I couldn’t take the gas so I made the guilty student go outside, shake it out a bit and come back in EVERY SINGLE time.  And he did.  The best was when someone walked into it after he left the hallway.  I couldn’t help but crack up by the look on the poor kid’s face who walked into that horror show of an odor.  Yes, I found it funny as well.

Kids will be kids – but I can’t say that without saying – old people with be old people.  Today I was walking around Target when I ducked into the magazine aisle to find a lo-cal recipe for tonight’s dinner.  As soon as I grabbed a magazine an old lady loudly farted and looked around to see if anyone had heard her indiscretion.  I avoided eye contact and quickly threw the magazine back in the rack and got out of there quickly.  Ew.  I was thoroughly grossed out then I remembered that I knew people who did that too.  They would offend and walk away and leave it lingering for all to walk through.  I don’t think I ever did that.  Maybe once in an emergency but never on purpose.

Everyone passes gas, burps, poops and pees but we all pretend that we don’t.  Some middle school boys may have a rude awakening in the future when they discover that girls actually do all these things too.  We blame it on the cat or dog or someone else.  Whoever smelt it dealt it.  Whoever denied it supplied it.  Are there any new ones?

Girls, boys, men women, dogs, cats.  Why are these noises so funny?  Is it innate, learned, spontaneous or just plain old bad manners?

Image: Clare Bloomfield / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

The Serious Stress Of Teaching

I recently read an article on mainstreet.com titled 12 Seriously Stressful Jobs and my job was listed as number 5.  Number 5.  Teacher.  Number 5.

I was shocked that my profession made the cut, but not at all surprised.  Let me tell you a bit about myself…  I am a certified teacher in both French and Spanish.  This is a plus and a minus in my field.  It’s a plus because you’re dual certified and very marketable.  It’s a minus because you get to do more work than anyone else who is certified in one subject.

This year I am teaching 8 classes, 6 DIFFERENT classes per day, 7 DIFFERENT classes in total, 2 different languages and have a sh**load of papers to grade.  That means 6 lesson plans per day times 5 days = 30 written plans per week including the objectives, procedure, evaluation and homework.

Now I’m not bitching about my job, just the inequality of it all.  I always do my job and do it well because that’s who I am.  Give me any task and I will surpass all expectations.  Year after year I get more disgruntled about my workload because I seem to get screwed more and more.

Next year will be not different I suspect.  I’m happy to HAVE a good job and a job that I like.  The kids will keep me forever young and I pray that the stress will not counteract that youth.  This has been one of the most frustrating years for me on record.  Not only in my career but in my personal life.  I try not to let my personal life filter into my work life but my professional life filters ever so strongly into my private life – so I guess I have to give and take.

You can’t be a teacher without becoming involved in your students’ lives.  It’s almost impossible and definitely impossible for me.  I don’t know how nurses and doctors do it – losing patients and watching them die.  I don’t think I could CUT IT OFF per se.

The stress of it all makes me crazy.  It’s far more stress than in the business world – maybe just a different kind – parents, exams, BAD behavior, etc.  Dealing with it all from so many angles…. well……  not ideal.

So how do teachers survive?  Down time works for me.  Vacations and summers off (not getting a paycheck sucks though) are a much-needed rest and regroup.  You need to recharge your batteries so you can be fresh again in September.  Remember the kids will always be FRESH too.  LOL.

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Do The Excuses Ever Stop? Enabling, Mommy Texting & Other Evils

The school year is winding down and most World Language classes are preparing for final exams. Both the students taking exams and the teachers giving them are stressed, to say the least.

EVIL NUMBER ONE: Enabling.  The last thing we need is more stress.  It’s the end of the year for Christ’s sake!  Four full days.  Four full days of exams.  Four half days for students and 1 day of graduation.  So why are parents still making excuses?  Why are guidance and the CST still ENABLING?

Because it’s all about the CHILDREN?  Give me a break.  If it were all about the children, there would be consequences.  Consequences for bad behavior, laziness and truancy are just a few.  If it were about the children there would be more administrative discipline, more in and out of school suspensions and more children being retained.

Why do the powers that be insist on pushing kids through when they do absolutely NOTHING, they can’t read or write and they are horrible disruptions to the entire class?  Let them fail.  Maybe it would be a good wake-up call for these students and their parents.  Maybe if their kid is 16 and still 7th grade, they would be so ashamed that they would finally stand up and be good parents.

Parents need to stop being their children’s friends and start acting like moms and dads.  Start acting like parents.  Kids need discipline.  Kids need consequences and boundaries.  Caregivers at home and school should be able to recognize the manipulators – and there are many.  I get sick to my stomach every time I think about it.

I know teenagers.  They will manipulate, lie and try to get away with as much as possible if you let them.  That’s normal.  Allowing them to have a free-for-all is NOT!  We were all teenagers once.  We were the same but we had the fear of God and our parents.

I was afraid of my parents.  Afraid of disappointing them and afraid of getting trouble.  So many children nowadays have NO FEAR.  Seriously, no fear.  I’ve been in IEP meeting when a young girl stood up and called her mother a Bitch.  Mommy would have back-handed me – but I don’t think I would have had the nerve to say something like that to begin with.

EVIL NUMBER TWO:  Mommy Texting.  Did you ever e-mail a parent or give them a call to update them on their child’s progress or lack thereof and 10 minutes later, their child comes bursting into your room, in the middle of your class, protesting with a foul attitude?  This is a result of Mommy Texting.  A text sent to a student by his or her mommy telling them what Ms. So And So said about them.  Where do they get their nerve?  No cell phones in school means NOTHING.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  Rewards for social retardation.  Ice cream for the mal élévé.  How can rewards, such as pretzels, candy and ice cream be a punishment for bad social behavior.  Slamming your backpack on a desk, fighting with classmates, overtly hating and alienating everyone around you and doing ZERO, nothing, nada, niente and rien are surely great reasons to be penalized by ice cream and sugar.  All the other kids talk about it.  It’s embarrassing.  I’m embarrassed for them.

EVIL NUMBER THREE:  The Running Excuse Via Parental Manipulation. “Ms. Jones, please e-mail me as soon as Fred starts having problems.”  Why do I bother?  With 13 days left of school I’m still hearing the same old song.  He said he did the work.  He said he’s not talking.  He said he’s paying attention but just doesn’t get it.  Well… get your ass in here for extra help and stop whining!  We did it in class TOGETHER.  It was a class assignment and if you did nothing (which is probably the case), you had to take it home for homework.  I can’t wipe your asses for you dears.  Someday YOU will be accountable.  I cannot wait for the day!

So when will this generation (and I’m not talking about all of you – you know who you are) of parents rise to the occasion and step up to mold their children into hard-working, productive, non-whining members of society?  When?

I don’t know if that day will ever come but I wish they would stop masking their poor parenting skills and own up to it.  In my opinion we’re raising a weak generation of complainers.

Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up to see the pussification of America at its best!

Image: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image: Suat Eman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Penis Colorforms And Boobie Tassels

Teaching is always an interesting profession.  When you work with teenagers, you never know what will happen from minute to minute.  Their hormones are raging and I think that many people forget that they were young once.  I haven’t forgotten but I do think that many gamins circa 2010 cross the line a bit too much.  The things they say, I would never have said to a teacher.  But who am I to talk?  I flirted incessantly with my male teachers.   Thank God they were stand-up guys because God only knows what could have happened if they weren’t.

My eleventh period class is always a handful.  Who’s suspended.  Who’s in ASP.  Who’s in impending danger of the dreaded phone call from the office.  It’s never-ending.  Yesterday the boys in my class decided to make penis cut-outs.  Many penis cut-outs.  And of course, they had to make me aware of their artwork.  Getting a rise out of their teachers is the thrill of their day.  They live for it and pursue its pleasure to the ends of the earth – or end of the school day.

Obviously they don’t know who they’re dealing with.  ME.  I am a little (ok – maybe a lot) outside of the box.  If I get flustered, it has to be something so inappropriate that even Ron Jeremy would blush.  So when they brought me their proud works of art, I said, “Nice.  Throw them out.  Put your penises away and stop playing with them.  Don’t you have enough time with them?  Ridiculous.”

This incited a shrill of laughter and disbelief, and even though they were delighted by my unexpected response, they were a little sad that they weren’t able to push my buttons.  When the bell rang I smiled at my triumphant win.

After work I had to go over to the high school for exam writing.  There was a school bus in front of me loaded with our kids.  When they realized that it was me, they started waving and calling my name.  I waved back and smiled and all of a sudden the color form penis that made an appearance in my class earlier, was in the window hopping from place to place.  I shook my head, gave them a thumbs-down and prayed that the bus would turn.  Blast!  My victory was short-lived.  They got me again.

Thinking I was out of the woods today, I carried on with my normal routine – knowing I wouldn’t see that group of seventh graders.  When period 7/8 rolled around my five eighth graders came in and sat down.  We’re working on clothing vocabulary, so I had a Power Point prepared.  As we were going through the vocab the conversation took a risqué turn when one of the boys asked me how to say thong.  I obliged because they were also learning underclothes like panties, bra and boxers.  What I didn’t bank on was the next question.

“Madame.  How do you say boobie tassels?”

OMG!  A little flustered, I half-laughed and screamed “INAPPROPRIATE!”  What the hell was going on?  Is it because it’s Spring and the hormones are dominant?  I don’t know but I definitely had a good giggle after they left.

I can’t wait to see (or maybe I can) what will happen tomorrow.  I DO love my job.  At least I’ll never be bored and will always have great blogging material.  You can’t make this stuff up!

© 2010 J. H-M. and CultureChoc2010.

State Farm to State Employee

When you’re a teacher you must love your job.  You don’t have to love it everyday – that just doesn’t seem normal – but life is too short to hate what you.

I’ve worked plenty of jobs before I became a teacher.  In college I worked at State Farm as a file clerk.  I would go out with my boss Ed for lunch and drink Champagne.  When that didn’t work out I started working for Stan at TSV Video – first on Broad Street then on Broughton.   I had a great time at TSV and actually continued to work there in the summer even after I became a teacher.

I worked at Studio One as a tanning bed / toning bed operator then I graduated college and got my first “real job”.  My first job was working in SoHo in New York City for a fat guy named Bill at a French steel company.  His boss was a corner-office American who smoked so much that he smelled like cigarettes and all his white shirts were turning yellow.  He had B.O. too.  You would have thought that he was French – no offense.

I was in the claims department with Gigi and John – a great guy who couldn’t stop staring at my boobs until I started talking to his crotch – then he stopped.  Gigi and I had to translate claims from English into French and send them off to our parent company in France.  It was ok.  I loved going out to lunch to some of my favorite places like The Ear Inn, Marinella’s, Tutta Pasta, The Magic Carpet, Shopsin, etc.  A definite perk to working in NYC.

My next job was at a French cheese company in Midtown Manhattan.  I worked for Philippe and Françoise (and Paul the cradle robber) and shared an office with a girl named Sandra.  We had so much fun in that office.  I wrote poetry, Deb wrote invitations, Diane read Tarot cards….. you get the picture.  I was in the international division and was responsible for accounts payable and receivable and was a liaison with customers in three languages – French, Spanish & English.

I don’t even remember what exactly happened but I received my paycheck and they docked me for week for some reason.  I went in to see Lidia and asked her what happened.  She said, “Paul thought it was fair.”  What?  Docking me for a week without telling me in advance so I could make other arrangements to pay my bills?  Insane.  I was so pissed off that I marched into Françoise’s office and told her that I was going and that I wouldn’t be back.  I walked out on the spot.  When Philippe called me to complain that I “walked out”…. I didn’t succumb to pressure and secured a job at a rival cheese company in NJ.

I must say I hated working in NJ.  My friends stabbed me in my back, my life got  a little bit boring and it was not for me – except I was 2 minutes away from Willowbrook Mall – BONUS!  And to top it off, my old Midtown Manhattan company became our supplier.  How awkward was that?  But it all worked out.  This job was the straw that made me go back to school for my Master’s and teacher certification.  I would come home crying to my parents every day – I was a nervous wreck.  I developed severe IBS, went out on disability and never came back.  Thank God.

So now I’m a teacher and I love it.  Sometimes you forget why you do what you do – especially when you’ve tried everything and you’re at your wit’s end with a student.  No work, disruptive – you name it.  You call guidance.  You call home.  You give detention.  You give them a referral.  Then one day when you think you’re done with the kid, you write him off as a lost cause and then fate intervenes.

On the same day you think that you’ve had enough, it so happens that he has detention after school with you.  You couldn’t get through during class.  You try to get through to him after school.  Then he starts, in a matter of fact way, opening up to you and telling you everything that’s going on at home – and it’s horrible.  My heart was breaking today as I listened to this kid tell me heart-wrenching stories about his home life.

I talked to him one-on-one and may have gotten through – only time will tell.  He thanked me 3 times before leaving my room today – I’m not sure why but I hope our chat helped him get some things straight in his head.

Walking out of the building today he was on my mind so much that I shared the situation with my friend and could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I choked up just thinking about what my student had to go home to.  I jumped in my car before anyone could see past my crumbling brick wall or notice my soft spot for troubled kids.

I’ve been on both sides of the career fence.  The kids make it all worth it even though you want to brain them sometimes.  People say that you never know what really goes on in someone’s house.  I believe that and I know if I knew half of the things that were going on in my students’ lives, I would turn to a pile of mush.