SNAP… just like that

What a week, people. 

My two oldest sons were sick this week (currently, #1 son is snarfling all over my house and now I’m starting to not feel well). 

I’m crabby today.  Just warning you…

Next week are my midterms.  They’re finished, copied, and sorted.  Now all I have to do is give them.

I found out today that my department chair wants to departmentalize the finals … my guess is because of the 12 of us in the department, only two or three actually GIVE exams.  First of all, I’ve NEVER given a departmentalized final.  I think it’s robotic and doesn’t allow me to cover things I do that are not textbook-dependant.  I’m upset, not to mention PISSED at the lazy ass people in my department.  I’m especially pissed at the new female history prof (who is also my son’s teacher at his school) because she’s goddamn lazy.

Departmentalized finals?  Seriously?  Isn’t it bad enough that I’m STUCK with these crappy textbooks that I didn’t pick and have been trying to get changed since I started working here?  Departmentalized finals… are we in middle school?  High school?  Geezus crackers and fire hydrants.  Teaching college is like glorified high school bullshit, minus the parents.

Oh wait.  I still have a handful of those driving me crazy.  (What part of, “I cannot legally discuss your child’s education with you” do they NOT understand.)

—

The other day, I said “bullshit” in class.  I never swear in class.  My semester so far has me saying, “Hell,” “Damn,” and “Bullshit.”  *whimpers*

What I say IN MY MIND is allowed… however, lately (moreso than usual), I have been suffering from Tourettes.  I have warned my students that sometimes things pop out of my mouth that miss the filter in my brain.  We are supposed to ignore those.  You know, like inane ramblings about M&Ms.

The reason I said ” bullshit” is simple.  I’m tired of reading bullshit.

This semester, I’ve drastically altered my paper-writing requirement from my first semester here: I’ve gone from 5-7 page papers, to 3-5 pages, and am currently STUCK at 5-8 PARAGRAPHS.

*sighs*

If they can’t write a research paper, HERSTORY, how can they write a simple high school-level essay?  (*taps on forehead*) How?  They can’t.  Or, they won’t.  And, for the few that actually TRY to do a good job, they get screwed because the masses are fucking up their education for them.

I’m tired of teaching (again).  I’m tired of being frustrated when I give an assignment only to have bullshit crap returned to me (“The American Revolution was necessary because if it didn’t happen, Mell Gipson never would’ve made the Patriat.”).  I’m tired of spending umpteen hours every week preparing info for them, finding video clips, and assembling cool local history stuff only to hear crickets, see blank stares, and nary a thank you from the clusterfuck of college students who prop their heads up with their cell phones and try to pick a fight with me in class.

YES… yes, I have a couple who think they can give me shit in class and expect me to take it.

Being the “Comeback Queen,” I never lose a battle of wits with a student.  The other day, this kid tried to slice me open with his words and I shut him down. “If you want to discuss this with me, you can talk to me after class.”

He tried to interrupt me, and I sharply responded with, “I will NOT let you deter their academic time with complaining. STOW IT.”

Or, the kid who said to me, “Har har… you screwed up the quiz.”

My response? “I can fail you if I want to.”

Another, “I think take-home midterm essays are HARD.”

My response: “Deal with it.”

“The OTHER history teachers are easier.”

“Why didn’t you take them, then?”

“Why can’t we watch television?”

“Sesame Street ended at 8.”

“That open-book quiz is SO hard.”

“Boo-freaking-hoo.  Welcome to college.”

 

My son suggested to me today that I should go into EMT training with him.  We can be a team… paramedics who can save lives.

“I don’t like needles and I can’t handle someone vomitting,” I say.

“Oh, they don’t vomit, much”, he says.

“But, they still vomit.”

“Don’t sit by their mouths.”

 

He said once I complete EMT training, I can get a job at a hospital and make decent money.  I won’t have to read papers.  I won’t have to field a gazillion email complaints.  I can get sued or embarass myself by doing something like… dry heaving.  Do I want to embarass myself anymore than I already do?  Hmm…

He’s insistent.  I’m not sure.  I like teaching.  I don’t like having to deal with bullshit.  And, as the semesters pass, I’m dealing with more bullshit than I care to count.

Bullshit and politics.  I hate both. 

(Whose sick of my complaining about teaching, raise your hands!)

*sighs*

I guess today, I feel unappreciated, disrespected, overwhelmed, tired, achy, and crabby.

Would it hurt for someone to say thank you to me every so often?