FWB

Yes, I know, it's been a long time since I've written. I'm sorry, but this "F*cking White B*tch" has been busy. Indeed, that is what I was called this morning by my favorite MySpace meanie-pants Sonya. It wasn't to my face or anything, more at the classroom door which she was pounding on because I wouldn't let anyone in to drop off their things before they went to gym, which they were already late for. I called her out on it, calmly, after watching her run in fear down the hallway with her two friends Jenny and Brianna. She flat out denied it and my principal did all the disciplining for me. I got Jenny and Brianna to corroborate my end of the story and that was that. No Sonya for the day and apparently she is getting suspended [!!] and has to do a public apology [!!] We'll see about that. Personally, I just wanted to make her cry.

Seriously though, in the countdown to freedom, which sounds not unlike a GW Bush platitude, I have been suffering from severe allergies, taken sick days for a fever [which was somehow a result of the allergies], watched an excessive amount of West Wing, planned a few field trips and cancelled some others [bad experience on the 2 train with my homeroom acting like crazy-pants whackos and throwing their garbage on the platform out the open train doors, sticking limbs out of the train while it was in motion, cursing at strangers, blah blah]. Needless to say we will not be taking the subway again.

In other news, little Kenny has continued to both delight and aggravate me. I feel like if I cannot handle Kenny, I no longer deserve to be a teacher. This morning he came to me, wide eyed and eager:
"Ms. ______ I have a science question!"
"Yes Kenny?"
"OK, so if Maaaars is moving, and it's spinning kinda fast, does that effect the wind on Earth?"
"I'm sorry Kenny, can you say that again?"
[He repeats]
"You know Kenny, I really don't know. You should ask the Science teacher that one..."

He also decided it would be a clever idea to SING his last poem when he shared it with the class. It was a poem about rain. He sang most of the words while my class took painful measures not to laugh at him. I was impressed with their composure really.

In poetry, we are having quite a good time, putting together recitations of poems that sound like rhymes and songs, which the kids have taken quite kindly to, singing and rapping and making beats on the desks with their palms. It's impressive. We have also started our own poetry blogs online which they LOVE doing and I'd post the link but it uses all their names and our school's name too so no can do. One poem, while very sad and telling, was really kind of moving and I'll post it here before I go watch tv and do a last count-up on "Countdown to Freedom."


MY DREAMS, By Brandon

People ask me what are your dreams
my dream is to become the worlds'
greatest baseball player ever to live
and my dad always says shutup
you fool and I get mad and when
ever I say the Yankees are going to lose
he tells me to shut up and get out.

people ask me what are your dreams
my dream is to become the best WWE
superstar and my dad always says you
fool do you want to get killed
so then I say STOP TELLING ME WHAT I CAN'T DO!
And after that I get a beating and he will say
it's because I can't fight.

people ask me what your my dreams
my dream us to be what ever my dreams
tell's me when I grow up and my dad says that's my
boy!


Mind you, I spoke to the guidance counselor and the principal about the poem, as we are mandated reporters of child abuse, and it turns out he is ok ["ok" being a relative term for his situation I suppose] but I was so impressed with his ability to use poetry as an avenue of expression and while he is not one of my kids who generally succeeds in ELA, he really just "gets it." The other kids left him great comments on the poem. Blogging at school. Sweet.