Worst Teacher of the Year

The sixth grade social studies class was giving me a hard time.  On Tuesday I have them in the morning.  Usually mornings are better.  They're sleepier.  And if I have them second period after first period gym, they can barely move enough to poke each other with their pencils.

But I had this great idea we should write an argumentative essay.  Actually it is a common core great idea. That means we are all supposed to be getting this great idea to teach kids how to write arguments.
You would think they know a lot about arguments.

It worked out okay in the higher functioning sixth grade class so I thought I would try it.

You guessed it - it didn't go so well.

So I was hooting and hollering.

"That's why everyone hates you,"  Bethany told me. "Everyone hates social studies even the kids in the other class hate you."

I guess I shouldn't buy a new outfit for teacher of the year award dinner.

I know a little something about Bethany.  Last year a mother of a past student, who I was quite fond of, came up to me at orientation and told me she had adopted two foster kids.  "They had a rough start," she informed me, but I could call her anytime.

Sixth grade social studies ended and I had five more classes in a row after them.  By eighth period it was all I could do to summon the energy to pull the tab on the last Diet Coke from my secret stash, that everyone knows about and avails themselves to. (I heard a rumor the juniors needed soda cans for a physics project and that's why there was only one left- "We knew you wouldn't want us to fail physics.")

The phone rang.  The guidance counselor wanted to know if Bethany could come upstairs and talk to me. (Yeah- she could but I wasn't sharing my Diet Coke) And anyway second period was soooo long ago I had forgotten the whole incident.

Bethany apologized.  I wasn't really the WORST teacher in the whole school.

It had been a long hot day, and as usual more of my eye makeup was under my eyes than on it.

"Did you cry, Teacherfish?" Bethany asked.

"Yeah- a little"

:"I guess that means I can't  have a Diet Coke?"

"Yup."

I'll buy more tomorrow.  Other bloggers might be on the final count down.  This is New York. One more hot month to go.