To start class today, I handed out progress reports (yes, upside down) for yesterday’s work, or should I say lack of work. The grades were as follows: 1 A, 3 B’s, 9 C’s, 9 D’s, and 14 F’s. The comments were priceless.
The Late Bird: Miss, if I am doing so bad, why is it called a progress report? Me: You made 32% on the pretest; therefore, 44% is progress.
The Teacher’s Pet: I have an A (repeatedly in a sing-song manner).
The Ginger: How did I get an F on the essay? Me: A sentence is not an essay.
The Drooler: I have 70%. You can call me The Doer now.
The Hooker: Dammmmmmmmmmn, Miss, I never had a B in English before.
The Cross Dresser: All this typing is chipping my nail polish.
At this point, I shushed everyone and pointed to the white board where I wrote the following note:
TO DO: ALL THE WORK.
Day 2 of 14: Check.
Who is a glutton for punishment? This girl is. Oh yeah. I volunteered to teach a summer school credit retrieval class. Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s only 14 days, and it’s all computer based. I started the day off with a few simple expectations and reinforced that paying for summer school does not guarantee passing summer school. It was at this point that one of my frequent office flyers commented, “It’s all fun and games until summer school. This lady don’t play.” This was swiftly followed by another student who claimed that “summer school is just a fancy name for juvie.”
SIGH. I hope I don’t have to beat the children.
I knew it would be with the most apathetic of all students, but I was pleasantly surprised when I only had to deal with two other students today. The Drooler slept on his keyboard for a solid hour and a half until the student next to him complained, “He was talking in his sleep about getting beat by the teacher.” Then there was The Hooker. Yes, my underwear were longer than the shorts she was wearing. ”But, Miss, it’s hotter than Africa outside, and my momma says she ain’t driving my lazy ass to school.”
Day 1 of 14: Check. Days 2 through 14: Expect further reports.