My schedule has been INSANE for the past couple weeks. It goes like this:
Wake up at 5:00 am. Shower, shave, breakfast, etc. - the whole morning routine.
Leave home at 7:00 am. Drive for a solid hour to an out-of-district middle school.
Teach 7th graders about physical science until 3:30.
Drive an hour and a half to college.
Sit in class until 10:00 pm.
Drive an hour to get back home.
Write lesson plans and do homework for the next two hours.
Wake up at 5:00 am and repeat.
Teaching is fun as hell, but Matt Lauer, I'm exhausted. I find myself looking forward to weekends, when all I have to do is work an eight hour shift. But still, I'm glad I'm doing it, 'cause once I'm done...I'm going to feel like I can do anything. I mean, damn, if these 20-hour days don't finish me off, nothing will.
Speaking of middle school, I was walking down the hall on my way out when I had an interesting encounter. First, let me set the scene: I'm wearing all black, since that's the only "professional" look I can pull off - black pants, black belt, black shoes, black dress shirt, long black overcoat, black boxers (though nobody knew about those but me), one black sock (the other was gray), and a black knit cap full of one-inch punk pins. I've also got a black backpack over my shoulder, which has a small, rubber Krusty the Clown keychain hanging from the back. From behind me, I hear someone shout "Hey!"
I turn around to see a kid in one of the school's football jerseys looking back at me. He's got this cocky look on his face. I recognized that look immediately - that was the universal adolescent "I'm gonna start some shit!" look. Almost immediately, however, his face fell. He noticed the staff ID that I had clipped to my shirt. I had to refrain from laughing out loud and keep my professional face on.
"What's up?" I ask.
"Uh...sorry...I, uh...I thought you were, like, a tall goth kid."
Whoa. Where the hell do I start? With the fact that he mistook me for a tall 14 year old (WHAT!?), the fact that he mistook me for a goth (No offense, but goth music sucks ), or the fact that this cocky little dude was about to start something, not only on school grounds, but with someone more than a foot taller than himself (I could have totally taken that 8th grader).
Before I can say anything, he takes off.
That was the first time I've been (almost) hassled by a middle school jock because of the way I dress since I was in middle school. Maaan, that takes me back.
"Class traitor? What-fucking-ever!
I'm just another middle class kid, too.
But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self-loathing,
So I'll class-hate myself with you."
-"New Mexico Song" by Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains