Francis: The Worst Tard Ever
Today should be a
good one as well. Being a half day, the typical schedule is a bit jumbled.
Tardies DO NOT deal well with change. The last half day we had was the day
before Thanksgiving, when I got socked in the eye by a distraught reetee.
I could probably compose a lengthy
memoir about Francis, who was a student of mine last year. A brief description
of just Francis, not even the shit he caused: 4th grade, 10 years old, 210
pounds, thick ass fucking glasses, a hearing aid, very slow speech, clothing
that was always too tight, and the kicker: THE KID SHIT HIS PANTS MULTIPLE TIMES
THROUGHOUT THE DAY!!!
Another long day
Tomorrow, the special ed kids are
going on a field trip (walking around the school, outside, picking up garbage,
and collecting and dumping the recycle bins). We also sing stupid ass songs that
I, as a professional, am too embarrassed to discuss. E.g., "If you're happy
and you know it" is a favorite.
We have one on the first Friday of each month. At the end
of each trip, I want to kill myself. Especially when we sit in a circle and we
each tell about our favorite part of the trip. There is only one rule, the Miss
Sped rule--"Use your words." I wish I had a tall can for every time I
have to say this fucking rule.
Last month, one of my tards actually ran away and
UNDERNEATH a fucking portable classrom. Unbelievable. It was dirt, trash,
rats and a retard under Portable 12.
Today I had a tard refuse to get off the fucking bus.
Because of this, the bus driver was going to be late for his next pick-up. I
thought he was gonna strangle my little tard with the tard-bus equipped safety
I am now going to
a Mexican restaurant with my co-workers. Our principal schedules these little
staff events, and buys everyone their first drink. As luck would have it, the
teachers who can't make it authorize me to have their "first drink." I
love these events. A bunch of 40 plus year olds talking about curriculum,
standardized testing, etc, and me, the kid on the staff, talking about all sorts
of things that are supposed to be confidential, downing Margaritas like its
Cinco de fucking Mayo. I will eat this time though, as the embarrassment of
having our speech-language pathologist call a cab for me last time was just too
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