Okay, so I'm going to go ahead and say beforehand that maybe I'm over reacting. Maybe I have no grounds for being weirded out and I should just be happy for the concern on my behalf.
That having been said, Tamia George (mother of my student Ororo George) is totally creepy. So like I said before, she used to be a student of my mom's back before the the war. In fact, my mom was pregnant with me when Tamia was in her class. Of course that could lead to some form of connection between the two of us, but I haven't seen her for a significant amount of time my entire life, so it seems a tad weird to me that she is so interested in me.
The setup is this: Ororo has serious anger issues, but is one of my best students. Her mom is concerned about her and wants to keep a close eye on her academic progress. Totally understandable. In fact, I wish there were more parents like that. So Tamia set up conferences with me in the mornings once a week. She said she could only do it before school, on account of the fact that she is a nurse and works late most nights. I am totally okay with that. However, when we start having the conference, we talk about Ororo for about five minutes an then the topic turns to me. She wants to know what my life is like. She wants to know what I do in my free time. She wants to know about family life and if I have a boyfriend and if I plan on having kids. I keep trying to turn the conversation back to Ororo, I keep thinking that it's unprofessional to share this much of my private life with a parent of a student, but she's relentless...and really really nice. I found myself telling her things that I didn't even know I was going to say.
Then we started talking about my mother. She was saying how I reminded her of my mom. I was just going to say something about a lesson that I had planned and how I'd gotten the idea from some of my mom's old papers. Nothing came out though. I just started crying. Not crying like a little bit either, like boo-hooing. Why did I have to choose today to wear mascara? Before I know what's happening, Tamia is stroking my hair and I am totally letting her. I felt like I couldn't breath and all I could get out between sobs was "I just miss her so much some times".
I don't know, maybe it's because it's getting close to their anniversary and I always feel kinda like this when that time rolls around. Also, it may have something to do with my period, which is about to start. I always know when it's that time, because I find myself crying over silly things. On my way to work today there was a man about my age in a military uniform on a playground spinning his daughter around. Really, all I thought was, "That's nice" but I was blinking back tears. What's that all about? Really, I could set my clock by it. Well, calender...if you had to set a calendar...seriously though, does this happen to other women? I hear jokes about women becoming like these horrible angry creatures during their periods, but I just feel like curling into a ball and disappearing for a week.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Bad Day
So, there's this kid in my class (I thought after I graduated high school I'd never start a sentence like that again)... anyway...there's this girl in one of the classes I teach, her name is Ororo. Beautiful name, it means soft and silky. Suffice to say, this girl is nothing if not inaccurately named.
Ororo is a junior taking English Literature and she is brilliant. I mean, when we do papers I always put hers aside to read right after a particularly bad one (and girl there are plenty of those). Usually the smart kids are either the quiet ones or well...how should I say this...calm? Smart kids generally find a way not to get into fights. Ororo has never been one to let anything stop her from doing what she wants to do though. I was in the hallway, waiting for class to begin, and I can just hear snippets of this conversation that's going on. Two of the little ebony princesses that run the school are gossiping about something. Well, Ororo was walking by and must have heard something she didn't like, because she decided to tell them off. Well, one of them was smart enough to keep their mouth shut, seeing as she was half Ororo's size, but the other one just couldn't let it go. She gets all up in Ororo's face and says, "Mind your own business, bitch!"
And thenceforth, it was on. Not that it lasted very long. Ororo gave the girl a solid jab right to the bridge of her nose. It was like a popping sound *pop* and the girl's nose was two pieces. Unfortunately, the girl was not smart enough to leave it at that. She decided to catfight Ororo. By the time I finally broke it up (which I'm very proud of, I put Ororo in a full nelson! How often do you get to use your martial arts skills as a teacher!) Ororo had one nasty scratch on her cheek and the other girls was upside down in a trash can.
Really though, you have to stop here and imagine it. Think of the elitist little princess you know, now picture her pretty little legs in a pair of my aunt's (Edana's) designer high heels, kicking from the inside of a trash can. Honestly, I wanted to high five Ororo, but high-fiving in a FULL NELSON doesn't work.
Now here's the thing that gets me. I have this weird attachment to Ororo, It's not just because she's smart, but because her mom was in my mom's English class all the way back when she was pregnant with me. Weird, right? We're out the twenties where people grew up and lived in the same town their whole life. Except, you know, with a war and natural disaster in between.
Natural disaster...that reminds me, I haven't heard from my Aunt Danae in a long time...I need to call her when I get a chance. I want to go visit her in Florida when I get a chance, but when would I have a chance? C'est la vie!
Anyway, long story short, Ororo is on her last warning before she gets booted from general education to military school. Ororo would not do well in the military, big problem with authority. So her mom and I are having regular meetings from this point on to update her on Ororo's progress. I don't mind, it's actually going to be strangely nice to devote time to a kid I like (usually the kids that need the extra attention are butt holes!)
Okay, so I finally hear Paula getting out of the bathroom, so I am going to sink into a long hot bath.
Oh, by the way, I've been looking at apartments! It'll be great not to share a bathroom with my little sister any more.
Ororo is a junior taking English Literature and she is brilliant. I mean, when we do papers I always put hers aside to read right after a particularly bad one (and girl there are plenty of those). Usually the smart kids are either the quiet ones or well...how should I say this...calm? Smart kids generally find a way not to get into fights. Ororo has never been one to let anything stop her from doing what she wants to do though. I was in the hallway, waiting for class to begin, and I can just hear snippets of this conversation that's going on. Two of the little ebony princesses that run the school are gossiping about something. Well, Ororo was walking by and must have heard something she didn't like, because she decided to tell them off. Well, one of them was smart enough to keep their mouth shut, seeing as she was half Ororo's size, but the other one just couldn't let it go. She gets all up in Ororo's face and says, "Mind your own business, bitch!"
And thenceforth, it was on. Not that it lasted very long. Ororo gave the girl a solid jab right to the bridge of her nose. It was like a popping sound *pop* and the girl's nose was two pieces. Unfortunately, the girl was not smart enough to leave it at that. She decided to catfight Ororo. By the time I finally broke it up (which I'm very proud of, I put Ororo in a full nelson! How often do you get to use your martial arts skills as a teacher!) Ororo had one nasty scratch on her cheek and the other girls was upside down in a trash can.
Really though, you have to stop here and imagine it. Think of the elitist little princess you know, now picture her pretty little legs in a pair of my aunt's (Edana's) designer high heels, kicking from the inside of a trash can. Honestly, I wanted to high five Ororo, but high-fiving in a FULL NELSON doesn't work.
Now here's the thing that gets me. I have this weird attachment to Ororo, It's not just because she's smart, but because her mom was in my mom's English class all the way back when she was pregnant with me. Weird, right? We're out the twenties where people grew up and lived in the same town their whole life. Except, you know, with a war and natural disaster in between.
Natural disaster...that reminds me, I haven't heard from my Aunt Danae in a long time...I need to call her when I get a chance. I want to go visit her in Florida when I get a chance, but when would I have a chance? C'est la vie!
Anyway, long story short, Ororo is on her last warning before she gets booted from general education to military school. Ororo would not do well in the military, big problem with authority. So her mom and I are having regular meetings from this point on to update her on Ororo's progress. I don't mind, it's actually going to be strangely nice to devote time to a kid I like (usually the kids that need the extra attention are butt holes!)
Okay, so I finally hear Paula getting out of the bathroom, so I am going to sink into a long hot bath.
Oh, by the way, I've been looking at apartments! It'll be great not to share a bathroom with my little sister any more.
This is Silly
Okay, here I am, doing this blog thing. It's a silly idea, I really don't have anything to say. I was just reminded recently of my dad and how he told me that the secret to being a writer is to do it. So here I am, Zuri Wallace, being a writer. I can't imagine who would want to read my blog.
Hmmm...What do I write about on here anyway? Isn't it weird that an English teacher can't make up a prompt for herself? It's ridiculous is what it is. Anyway, I'll just go with the old standby of writing about something that's important to me.
Teaching. As long as I can remember I've wanted to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to do a lot of other things in the process, but that has been a constant for me. I can remember chasing Paula around the house with a copy of one of my dad's books and forcing her to listen to me read. She used to hate it, but I felt like that was the only way to get better (and I wanted her to hear my favorite stories (not to mention, I was in a lot of them)). When I was five, my mom brought me home some supplies from an old classroom that they were throwing out. There was a tiny whiteboard that she mounted on my wall as well as a school desk and some old markers. I used to sit my doll Halliberry up in the desk and make her listen to me teach about "The Twilight Princess" or the old books I used to read with mom and dad like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."
I always loved to read. I think that was my parents' doing. I remember thinking that if everyone had parents like mine, they would all love to read. Maybe that's part of my goal as a teacher, to make kids as excited by a story like Othello as I am. To be honest, as much as I want to understand people's apathy toward great literature, I just can't.
After my two years of service as a Service Teacher, I knew that I wanted to become a career teacher. My mentor was the greatest. Teena Julian was her name, she still teaches in Atlanta, but we haven't talked in awhile. She had had my mom as a teacher years before and the first thing she said to me was that she would be shamed if she couldn't make me at least as good a teacher as my mom made her. Just thinking about it almost makes me cry. I really miss my mommy sometimes!
Oh God, way off topic. So, yeah, I guess that's going to conclude my first blog entry. It ain't exactly five paragraph form, but it's close enough for jazz. Wow, I have never used that term before and it just came out. I guess it's true though, blogging is sort of the jazz of writing. You just say what you say as it comes to you. I just hope none of my students ever find this blog, then I can't say anything bad about them on it. Mwa ha ha.
Hmmm...What do I write about on here anyway? Isn't it weird that an English teacher can't make up a prompt for herself? It's ridiculous is what it is. Anyway, I'll just go with the old standby of writing about something that's important to me.
Teaching. As long as I can remember I've wanted to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to do a lot of other things in the process, but that has been a constant for me. I can remember chasing Paula around the house with a copy of one of my dad's books and forcing her to listen to me read. She used to hate it, but I felt like that was the only way to get better (and I wanted her to hear my favorite stories (not to mention, I was in a lot of them)). When I was five, my mom brought me home some supplies from an old classroom that they were throwing out. There was a tiny whiteboard that she mounted on my wall as well as a school desk and some old markers. I used to sit my doll Halliberry up in the desk and make her listen to me teach about "The Twilight Princess" or the old books I used to read with mom and dad like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."
I always loved to read. I think that was my parents' doing. I remember thinking that if everyone had parents like mine, they would all love to read. Maybe that's part of my goal as a teacher, to make kids as excited by a story like Othello as I am. To be honest, as much as I want to understand people's apathy toward great literature, I just can't.
After my two years of service as a Service Teacher, I knew that I wanted to become a career teacher. My mentor was the greatest. Teena Julian was her name, she still teaches in Atlanta, but we haven't talked in awhile. She had had my mom as a teacher years before and the first thing she said to me was that she would be shamed if she couldn't make me at least as good a teacher as my mom made her. Just thinking about it almost makes me cry. I really miss my mommy sometimes!
Oh God, way off topic. So, yeah, I guess that's going to conclude my first blog entry. It ain't exactly five paragraph form, but it's close enough for jazz. Wow, I have never used that term before and it just came out. I guess it's true though, blogging is sort of the jazz of writing. You just say what you say as it comes to you. I just hope none of my students ever find this blog, then I can't say anything bad about them on it. Mwa ha ha.
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