I accepted a position with a local middle school to teach language arts. I naively believed that, hey, I taught at-risk high schoolers in Southern California for years. I'm talking literal gangsters, for crying out loud. Yo! West Side Rivas . . . how bad could a bunch of tiny, innocent sixth graders be? Pretty bad. They are full of energy, sass, and lame jokes. Did I mention energy?
Okay, this picture doesn't make my point. This is my first class of the morning, and they're still a little sleepy. Trust me when I say that by 6th period, the children? They have awakened. Just when I'm ready for my afternoon nap.
I'm too old for this, is what I'm saying. I NEED MY NAP.
Dinner last night: fast food, because I don't
Exactly four years ago:
Exactly five years ago:
My son's in 6th grade and I'm having a hard enough time dealing with him at home. I can't imagine trying to teach an entire class of 20 hims.
I've been wondering where you were!
How fun that you're teaching. I don't know how you manage 12-year-olds. They crazy.
I'm so happy that you are back on your blog. I have nothing but admiration for you to be taking on teaching again and to 6th graders! Wow, I am impressed.
Thanks for resuming.
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