I took a sick day yesterday, which means I’ve worked three days in two weeks. Oh well, I have the sick time, and I can’t get it paid out when I leave, so whatever. And I needed it, bad.  I spent the day blowing my nose and napping.

Today, when the kids arrived, more than one — even kids who ‘hate me’ — said "Oh, THANK GOD! Mrs. S is back!"  Way to make me feel good about my decision, kids! Not that they know my decision, but the suckiest part is that I’ll not get to work with middle school kids anymore, and that makes me sad. I know, I know, "aren’t middle schoolers at the WORST age?" and for most people, they are, but for me, I love them at that age.  I can make their day, I can understand them, and I can piss them off (even when I’m their favorite teacher) by calling them on their bullshit.  I gave out a detention today, and a mid-quarter to one kid who was equally pissed off at the detention as she was excited about her MQ grades. But, with the New Plan for next year, I wouldn’t be able to build those relationships, anyway, which sucks, because middle schoolers NEED people that they can equally despise and adore, because that is what pre-adolescence is all about.  And the person they despise/adore needs to understand that it’s  always a mixed bag, and the kid that ‘hates you’ will be the first one to ‘miss you’ if you let them know you give a shit, no matter what. And dammit, that’s what blows.  I love my kids.  I love that when they say "what page?" after I’ve said "Page 75" fifteen times, that I can say "eleventy-fifteen" and they know that they need to ask someone else already or pay attention, and they laugh and roll their eyes.  I love that I can put my nails on the chalkboard and not even scratch and they quiet down. (That sounds more barbaric than it is, but trust me, worst way to quiet a classroom is to "sssshhhhhh."  All you do is get yer germy spit everywhere. No one ever notices.)  They have inside jokes with me, and I’m sure that other teachers in the building are totally perpelexed when they run into a conversation in the hallway where I am answering my students’ every word with "ribbit."  I’m sure I get looks when I take the magic fairy wand to assemblies to fend off the bad-bleacher-behavior-gremlins. But, fuck it.  My kids know. I know. 

What my kids don’t know is The Plan, and they don’t know that I’m eyeing mid-June like the finish line of a marathon.  They don’t know that the only reason I would stay would be to stay with them, and that I think what the administration (from local to federal) is screwing them over. (Well, they kinda know I think that.  When they were asking "ANOTHER assessment?" I said "hey, not my choice, it’s the law. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have them.")  That part sucks. I wonder what they’ll say. I wonder if I’ll tell them before the end of school.

So, anyway, I’m still sickish.  I considered calling out today, but the state standardized tests start on Monday, and I needed to get some more probability into my 8th graders.  I plan on starting the C25K tomorrow, but I warned emmalola that it might be Day .5 instead of Day 1, but my goal is to bundle up and at least go for a very fast walk.  I’ll do the five minute brisk walk and see how my breathing is, and then go from there.  I’ll update in Bodyish when I have completed it, and I have some other ideas for the Bodyish category, too. 

To bring up the mood of this post, I have this link, which is a .wav file, so it might not be the most worksafe. It is gay-ron-teeeed to make you laugh, however.  I promise.