Let’s just get this right out in the open from the get-go.
If you’re offended, semi-offended, or even vaguely considering being offended that a teaching blog is titled “Singing Pigs” this will not be the blog for you. Guaranteed. So just do yourself a favor and depart now, no offense taken. I would also recommend that you don’t take a job in the teaching profession any time soon, because survival of the educational fittest requires a serious sense of humor.
That or copious amounts of happy hour outings. Your pick. I personally prefer a deadly combination of both, but I depart from my point…
I don’t give a flying fig (cleaned that little idiom up for those of you sense-of-humorless people who may still be reading. Don’t expect such pleasantries in the future.) what you think education should be, shouldn’t be, could be, would be, must be-schmust be. This little blog is simply what it is. In my world, in my classroom, in my mind.
But we live in an overly anal retentive society where people get all uptight about things. So let me make a few clarifications for you possibly-kinda-uptight folks:
1. I don’t call my students pigs. I just thought the quote was damn funny. If you’ve ever sat in a room attempting to teach 30 teenagers something they didn’t want to know, you’d think it was damn funny too.
2. Waaaaait for it…My name’s not really “Teach.” (Shocked gasp) I’m keeping this flippin’ blog anonymous precisely because people are uptight. There’s no link to myself, my kids, my school, my district, nada. I like them too much to risk uptight people.
3. References made to specific students, colleagues, schools have all intentionally been “vagued-up.” Students aren’t my current students, nor are stories necessarily from my current school, position, state or…ok…I’ve even borrowed a few colleagues’ stories. I’m sneaky like that. But here’s my one guarantee: it’s all true. You non-teaching folks need to get a serious dose of a Day In The Life of People Crazy Enough to Teach Your Children for a Living.
4. There is nothing, ever, that I would rather do with my life. And that, dear readers, is about as sentimental as it’s going to get. From here on, it’s the reality of American Teenager. In a Public School Classroom. With a Teacher Who’s a Few Cards Short of a Deck.