Really?

Sometimes I think teaching would be a much more pleasant job if there weren't students involved. Less grading. Less noise. Less questioning. Less opportunity to fear for the future.

It is because of this that I have determined that today will be an opportunity for me to play my own version of SNL's "Really?!"

Exhibit A: I walked into school this morning and found, crowded around a computer in my "office"/Multimedia Room a large group of students watching the same film over and over again and being very loud. Down the hallway, there was a group of people banging haphazardly around on some drums. (Really?! Because some mornings I only want to be responsible for students between 8:45-3:15).

Exhibit B: After a month of preparation, students in the Drama class are about to perform their monologues at a mock audition in the upcoming week. Students have been told for the last week and a half that this will be a work day. As soon as work time is dismissed, students crowd around my desk. First student: ". . . what are monologues?" (Really?!)

Exhibit C: Second student: ". . . I don't have mine." / "We perform next week. Are you at all concerned by this? That you're not ready?" / ". . . should I be?" (Really?!)

Exhibits D-H: See Exhibit C. (Really?!! Are we sure that this is in any way worth my time?)

Exhibit I: Lunch time. 11:10-11:40. Sacred non-student time. Lunch. Adult conversation. Student refuses to leave after being asked more than once to get out and eventually cuts into five of those precious minutes. (*headdesk*. Really . . .. ?)

Exhibit J: Creative Writing. Students are shocked that we are. . . wait for it. . . writing. In a WRITING class. (Are you serious?!!)

. . . and so goes the day. I still have at least five more hours in this building and five more hours full of opportunities to work with students who are working their hardest today to try my patience and - unfortunately - succeeding. I remember being a student/kid and feeling as though adults (especially teachers - it was different with parents) were immune to annoyance, or should be if they weren't. Now I am beyond that ridiculous bit of ignorance and able to recognize that annoyance isn't something you grow out of.

But we're one step closer to the weekend. And I have a good book to read. And I'm playing the Anne of Green Gables soundtrack in my classroom. And the bell is ringing and the student who is sitting on the couch staring at me because her writing is "perfect" and doesn't need help is not going to bother me any more. And I'm going to eat a lemon bar. And I'm going to see a movie tonight (and tomorrow) with fully competent, delightful, responsible adults. And remember that adults were children once and. . . with any luck. . . these children will one day become adults.