The Hell That is Not Going to Work

I had a beastly Sunday driving my daughter and her boyfriend to college, although we did get to see a 6-point buck deer standing in the roadway like some kind of advertisement for financial services. I was hoping for a moose, as always, but it was a decent-sized specimen of the white-tail variety, so I was content.

Actually, the drive wasn't so bad, but somewhere along the line I did my back a poor turn and could barely move. Combined with some side-effects from a medication I'm taking, I was up all night, sick and getting sicker by 1:00 in the morning. So I called in sick, which is what I do when I can't possibly work.

Unfortunately, having procrastinated, I didn't have my papers in order for the poor sod who had to cover my classes -- a retiree from this very school, no less -- and left him in quite a lurch. So not only did I screw up my students by missing a day, I managed to make a colleague's day that much worse, too.

'GREAT JOB, SCHMUCK!" sez I to myself.

Back at work today I put my house in order, which is why I'm still here and it's almost 6:30 p.m.
Of course, I'm also meeting with parents and having conferences, so that's another reason!

I'll sound off on the conferences once I have some -- I've got a full dance card of them -- but never having had to meet with parents on such a schedule (8 minutes per) this will be a new experience for me. Having parents show up at all is kind of new, really. I began to believe that my ghetto students sprang fully-formed from crack pipes, because getting hold of their parents was so difficult.

"The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."

Yes, and no doubt the family has a new landlord, too!

Here in the 'burbs I can e-mail most of the parents I need to reach and ::gasp:: THEY E-MAIL BACK!

This might prove to be too much of a good thing; we'll see.

Suburban Socrates?

I can't be Urban Socrates anymore as regards teaching, because I'm teaching in the 'burbs now, on the South Shore in Massachusetts. I still live in this "gritty blue-collar town" though, so I'll keep the name.

It's been a dramatic change from teaching Hispanics, Russians, Albanians, Africans, etc. to teaching (mainly) middle-class Irish American kids. Future entries will contrast teaching in an urban setting with the suburban setting I'm working in now. Also, I'll complain about the commute, which is considerable (1 1/2 hours each way) The job has been worth it though, as I've regained most of my sanity. First complaint: How the hell can I tell all these Patricks, Brians, and Seans (and Erins, Colbys and Megans) apart!?