The Sweatervest Sagas: I love my job

(NickNote: Oh, hey! Our fellow contributor is back and this one is a doosy! Our uniformed hero is now masked, shrouded in anonymity under the name A Graced Occupation. Check out this page from her book of life!)

I’m Blessed. I’m truly blessed. I work in my chosen profession.

I repeat this mantra to myself every night while I’m brushing my teeth, every morning while I’m sipping my  coffee and at lunch while I’m eating in a cold dungeon disguised as a lunchroom.

And it’s true – my principal gave me a shot when she hired me. I had no teaching experience and my bachelor’s degree is in media studies.  Today, my days are still as unpredictable as ever, but three years ago I had absolutely no clue what each day would hold. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I took the job mid-year.

Seventh and Eighth grade – easy enough; I could handle it. Or I thought I could.  Year one left me exhausted and asleep on the couch by 4:30pm, or in my classroom til 8pm.  During my free period I’d go to my car and scream with the doors closed.  In my defense teachers still talk about the eighth grade that year.  The worst class in 30 years they say.

During my first two weeks at the school, a group of these darlings brought a water bottle filled with vodka to school.  Another time, I had a student after school for  detention when the toilets in the boys’ room began to overflow.  While I was rushing to find a janitor, the sweetheart sitting in my classroom suggested that I “go get one of the Mexicans who was working outside to clean up the shit.”  Really- he did.

The year dragged on and the my lovely students didn’t change, but I seemed to be the only one struggling. Granted, I was a new teacher and I came in halfway through the year, my classroom management was lacking, but so were these kids’ respect levels.  It all came to a head one day when I discovered that a group of these lovelies had broken into the school over the weekend.  Later that week, two students lit off fireworks and threw them out of the windows of the school at a group of second graders playing at recess. I had never been so happy in my life to never have to see that group of students again.

The following year a few would stop back and visit from their respective high schools.

“I’m really worried about your social life, ” I’d tell them. ” I can’t figure out what you are doing here. Don’t you have friends in High School?”

Thankfully, the visits stopped. I rarely think of any of those nightmares anymore, and I love my job.

I’m Blessed. I am truly blessed. I work in my chosen profession.

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One Response to “The Sweatervest Sagas: I love my job”

  1. Milo Walker Says:

    You are very lucky to have “the dream job”. It sounds like it was a rough start at it though with those hellions! But they are fond memories now, yeah?

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