February 2, 1999

At the risk of grossing you people out, I'm going to tell you what Andy said to me when he got home from work last night. First of all, when he came in the door and saw me, he jumped up and down. Several times. Screeched. Clapped his paws. Hugged me like he hasn't seen me in four years. I get this kind of greeting on a daily basis. Anyway, I told him I had already eaten dinner. "Well, come into the kitchen with me while I make mine!" he said. "I want to hear all about your day!" And he meant it. I found him on the Internet, folks. If you don't already have one, keep lookin'. They're out there. In contrast, my students treat me like shit. I took over for a teacher who went on maternity leave in December. I have two classes of freshmen, two classes of sophomores. I teach English. "This class used to be fun!" whined Rhiannon three days after I took over the class. "I used to look forward to coming in here. It cheered me up. We could talk...walk around...do whatever we wanted. We had fun. Now it just...sucks." The next week, Kevin came rushing up to me with a grammar book in his hand. "Mrs. Lester look I didn't do it but look I just want you to know that I found this but I didn't write it I don't know who did look" He was panting. His eyes were shining. I looked at the top of page 437. "Mrs. Lester is a fat bitch," someone had scribbled in leaky black ink. "Oh," I said. "Well." "What are you going to do?" Kevin wanted to know. "Nothing," I told him. "But...aren't you mad?" "Sure," I said. "Well...what are you going to DO?" Kevin seemed shocked, and slightly annoyed, at my lack of excitement. "What do you suggest I do?" I asked him. "I don't know who wrote it. You don't know who wrote it. What can I do?" The rest of the class began to take interest in this exchange. "What? What? Kevin! What does it say? Hey! What does it say?" Kevin looked at me dubiously. "What does it say?? Come on! Tell us!" "IT SAYS 'MRS. LESTER IS A FAT BITCH'!" I informed them. Silence. Kevin slunk away. Later, I told my sister Peggy what had happened. "I'm so depressed," I told her. "I guess I take everything personally...I mean, what would you do if you found that written about you in a textbook?" "Do you think I'd give a shit?" she asked increduously. Peggy has been a teacher--mostly in behavior disordered classrooms--in Kenosha for about 20 years. "Do you think I'd even waste my time thinking about it ever again?" By the end of the conversation, we'd decided that I don't really have what it takes to be a teacher. And this was before they threw my lunch out the window. And cheated on their finals. And threw my Charlie's Angels thermos out the window. They are so not chickens. Wanna be notified when I update? Send mail and thou shalt receive!