12/5a: 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!!!

12/5b: 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 hid 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 restraint belt.

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 much.

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