every little thing that you say or do

thus begins madonna's new song, "hung up" which includes the immortal line, "I'm fed up, I'm tired of waiting on you," and has absolutely ZERO to do with my blog, my job, or anything except the fact that I'm listening to it to pump me up for my super day of observations plus PT conferences tomorrow! And when that marathon ends, I will have the luxury of a boyfriend in the same city as me (yay!) and the weekend, at last. Because I now have no idea whether my principal et al are coming to my room period 8 or any of my other classes, I will have to plan three superduper lessons, which is obviously a huge pain in the arse. But on the other hand, it gives me a chance to show off a little-- whereas with my last observation, I just wanted an activity which would get them out of my hair, this time I want to do something that showcases my understanding and knowledge of literature beyond the theme, character, setting bullshit that everyone else does...

today was somewhat better. Even though my frosh are still a pain, they have really been doing a lot of work and the simplicity and ease of the assignments I've been giving them is incredibly helpful in terms of keeping them on track... Once again, I found all my kids more charming than anything else...although they continue to push my buttons and get my nerves. I have to figure out something for them for the last ten minutes of class, because they're getting totally nuts on me (pencils flew through the air today!)....

that's all for now (yo).

PS

still no electricity in my wall outlets! (Day 8)

Ahhhhhhhhh!

I want to bang my head on a wall sometimes. With my observation approaching, I have been jumpy and irritable, and my kids can tell. They drove me nuts today with homophobic comments left and right, not to mention the mouse that showed up in my room, my panic about the impending parent-teacher night and observations, and my general exhaustion and missing of close human contact (with the excception of you, grandma!). I know tomorrow will be better simply because it must be, and because after being a bitch, i come home feeling bad and loving the kids. One thing the endless cycle of teaching has given me is insight into what it must be to be a parent... how endlessly devoted one must be to one's children.

I am really enjoying doing cinderella with my frosh-- they are cute about it, but very jumpy (particularly with the rodent visiting) and that's okay. I need to be calm and not react with so much anger and hostility when they act up. but it's so tough at the tender age of 22 to come in with my best foot forward every day! Plus, it's fucking rainy and disgusting and the days are getting colder and crueler, much like life has = )

A wee bit o humor

This is ironic, btdubs.

Manic Monday, part 6

Thus passes my sith new week at Truman... as Mondays go, this one was tolerable. This last weekend, in Boston, I had the most fun weekend I've had so far this year without it being a "get me the fuck out of my life" kind of weekend-- I was happy to celebrate a decent week and a series of relationships with kids that, if not perfect, are growing. One of my kids told me he went onto a website and voted me favorite teacher-- and he wrote "Ms. Seltzer rules" on my board. Another girl comes in writes "Be Good" on my board every day (and then proceeds to ignore me when I tell her to be quiet, but still). I do feel that a lot of them care for me in a really perverse, parent-do-you-love-me-despite-my-misbehavior way. One of my students always stays late after fourth period to chat with me, one of my girls has cleaned my room and straightened my desk during my free time, several of them have organized and cleaned stuff for me, and many have told me mine is the only class they bother with. So on days like today, when the pace of work laggs and hte conversation tends towards Cam'ron instead of commas, I have to forgive them and myself, and rev up for a better, more interesting day tomorrow.

I have a tough week ahead-- parent conferences, phone calls, my observation with the principal. But in the end, I will breathe easily on Saturday knowing that the worst part of the year is over, no matter what I'm told (and what I decide!!!)

A goodish day

the secret to my goodish day, which included rudeness, paper ball wars, and a fight in the middle of my best class, was taking my life with a grain of salt. One of my kids came close to physically hurting me when I pulled the boys apart, but I'm not reporting him or anything, which may or may not be a mistake. I handled it by giving them fifteen minutes of quiet work (and i let them talk quietly and didn't check it) and then starting class again at the second bell. this technique actually worked really well, although it might not always obviously... anyway. The best part of today was getting through an entire class with my frosh without getting really mad-- who knows if it will happen again, but it was wonderful while it lasted!!! We read all of "the lottery" and now we are going to talk about what it means...which is a tough thing to talk about, for anyone.

L'annee nouveau

The new (jewish) year has dawned, the weather is brisk and full of personality, and I'm trying like hell to change my attitude, and my kids'. Last week was bearable, and this week I am blostered by the hope that I can get a few kids switched out of my class, just to "change the dynamic" as my AP would say. I've been making the most headway with a certain type of kid-- the smart, awkward, self-hating kid, the kid who usually cuts calss or takes a failure. Many of them have told me that mine is the only class they bother doing any work at all in, or showing up to, and they seem relaxed in my class. But then there are the mingangstas and their paper-ball wars who are making my life, and the life of many of my bright students, miserable. I just don't know how to deal with them. I had a revelation on Friday that I simply shouldn't have to deal with eight boys misbehaving at once, and i spoke to my AP about it and he said Monday was the day I could switch 'em up. So it shall be! And now I surrender myself to gradekeeper, the electronic program that's SUPPOSED to make my life easier, and the endless list of resolutions I always make during periods of stress/unhappiness:

read for pleasure
work out
take baths
light candles
spend more time with family and friends
BLOG (or write in a journal)
remember how lucky i really am

and knowing full well that all these things do not a happy life make... but what can one do but try?

Autumnal sighs

With the return of crisp, New York fall weather, and the breaking out of things like corduroy pants, blazers, and scented candles (mm, I just bought a spiced cider one at a 40% discount) comes the cessation of all classroom angst... just kidding! This morning again found me in tears after my period 3-4 darlings decided to have a paper ball fight in the middle of class. Three of the latin boys and three of the black boys were the instigators and I sat there as though I was witnessing a bizarre postmodern West Side Story.
I think of Jonathan Kozol, who so idealizes the inner-city youth he befriends, and I wonder where I'm going wrong, and then I get angry at him, the Jewish socialist Harvard grad (it's like looking into a chromosomally-innacurate mirror) with a superb anaylsis of the problems and a lack of concrete solutions (this latter point was pointed out to me by the guy sitting next to me on the train home from Boston, also a first year teacher in the Bronx).
I hate the way my energy ebbs, the way I lose my sense of humor in the midst of frustration. I think next time this happens I might just let them have their fight and then make them pick everything up afterwards, and hopefully it won't happen again (but these are not the kind of kids who have anything to get out of their system, their systems are full to overloading with hypoglycemic, sugar-rushed, miserable, sexually angry and frustrated hormonal, racial inferiority complexes) and I am the small white snot-nosed Manhattanite newly-minted grad who is thisclose to giving up, shutting my classroom door, and never coming back. I don't hate these kids, I really don't, but I don't know what to do. I don't even remember how to have a sophisticated discussion about a book or poem anymore, and I miss even the slightest intellectual challenge.
I think I'll go light a cinnamon spice candle.

Fall 05 by the numbers

1-Number of times I have spied a student urinating in the hallway.

2-Number of times students have made references to me in a positive way in their writing assignments

2-Number of times i have returned to my ivy-league university campus, smoked massive amounts, eaten pub food washed down by a cold imported beer, and wisehd that I had never ever fucking graduated.

2- number of times I have cried while sitting on the floor of my classroom

3- number of times I have had to call the dean on students who couldnt control their bodies or mouths

4- number of times I have truly truly had a good day

5- number of times I've had an unwanted visitor in my classroom observing me.

Seemingly infinite-- Number of times students have promised to do better and immediately reneged.

Seemingly infinite-- Number of times I've promised myself to be stronger and been beaten down by the end of first period.

105- number of students I have

50- Number of students who are succeeding.

3- number of times I've started surfing grad school websites

1-number of times I've read Jonathan Kozol and been simultaneously inspired and depressed

0-number of students I have who know the word simultaneously.