DEAR READERS,
I AM NOT DEPRESSED OR SUICIDAL OR EVEN HOMICIDAL! I AM VENTING - PERIOD! SCHOOL AND ALL THE PEOPLE ARE SAFE; CRYING JUST WOULDN'T BE TOO MANLY IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERVIEW WITH THIS QUESTION.
PLEASE DON'T CALL THE FBI OR HOMELAND SECURITY AS I DON'T NEED THE GRIEF OR THE SADNESS! PLEASE DON'T COMPLAIN AS THIS IS FAIR WARNING THAT I JUST WANT TO SCREAM AND LET ALL THE BILE INSIDE ME GO!
AND IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM PLEASE E-MAIL ME BUT DON'T COMPLAIN & HAVE MY BLOG DROPPED FROM THE WEB!
THANK YOU!
JULIAN
In complete sentences, please respond to the following: What are your expectations of your student teaching experience? What do you expect to learn and to do during this period?
First off I can see that lack wit shitballs have made a methodology for self-importance and grandstanding on the menial desires of stupid fucks dying to show off their own intellect within the realms of faux-education. What a load of horse-shit in underlining the main idea of the preliminary thought of introduction. If the reader ISN’T going to do what’s asked, why bother asking them any-fuckin’-thing?!
First off I can see that lack wit shitballs have made a methodology for self-importance and grandstanding on the menial desires of stupid fucks dying to show off their own intellect within the realms of faux-education. What a load of horse-shit in underlining the main idea of the preliminary thought of introduction. If the reader ISN’T going to do what’s asked, why bother asking them any-fuckin’-thing?!
My expectations are that I will be bored to goddamned death. There is no lying in this thought – it’s the foreseeable future of my miserable shit-sandwich of a life. I loathe the fuckin’ need for teachers and the rubbish they must endure to make an unrecognizable difference in this world. Children don’t care to be in school. Their parents don’t wish to be responsible, ergo; I shall be made to suffer for little to nothing as an existence in this experience.
Creativity? That’s a goddamned laugh! Where I am going a committee will decide what’s being taught, when and by whom. Thus I just need to regurgitate like a mother-vulture to her little bastards of flight. If you wish for a level of creativity, then I am in the wrong placement professionally, as I know the teachers well-enough to see they shall chide me, beat me and berate me constantly. And I know the teachers are as bored with their own jobs as I shall one day be with what I will endure in this experience of nausea and sadness. If I could I’d find an RPG-07 and fire it through the halls of the college of education at the head of the department watching her limbs fly off in assorted directions with nothing less than carnage and violence as my answer to the question above.
Grades planning and recording? That’s a series of gambles built against a quota of enforced lapsadasical work that teacher will record only 45% of and discard the rest. A 6-2 quinella would be more profitable for a child’s future in Texas; let them learn the odds of the Lotto before they step into math to see ALL of their life is already rigged against them. A series of grades are taken 2.5 for a 5 day week versus 7-12 assignments done by the teacher, thus only 20% or less is actually recorded and used as their final series of grades for the overall sense of achievement. Grades are a spreadsheet with odds stacked for the student to pass NO MATTER the times or ways they fuck up their own work.
Methodologies of teaching and expression? Fuck that! It comes down to controlling the little apes with a mother-fucking rule of iron crushing their windpipes and reaming their heads giving them some sense of fair-play in life even though they (the students in case you can’t follow the fucking pronouns) feel they’re entitled to every goddamned thing without the sense of achievement and worth. That’s why their heroes are assholes like Scarface, Fiddy Cent, and other dickheads whose prowess and growth came from the basest ideas in shitty violent music and abortive movie clichés the students can distinguish from fiction. They want reality mixed with fiction? Let’s go “Conquest of the Planet of the Apes” and teach them with the way of the club and a fuckin’ flame thrower to roast the dissidents!
(I want a cigarette and a Wild Turkey – in vino veritas. Or at least in whiskey too … don’t like my jokes? Fuck you then you scumbags!)
Your institution hasn’t taught teachers anything since the rigidness and lack of commitment is brazenly placed on unqualified and less-than-subhuman people who don’t care for teaching such as myself. I am a reptile, a CHUD, and do not care for anything that schooling has given me in all the courses I’ve taken than experience didn’t already place on my shoulders and in my black fuckin’ heart. I know many, MANY people who are doing this ridiculous job for a check, nothing more. If art sold I’d leave this profession and leave the state too, pissing on the university steps before heading out on the highway. Teachers are taught diplomacy and a way to work using their brains and not find themselves in a physical confrontation. But they’re unsure of what to do when physically challenged with someone unwilling to back down or to leave their own personal hatred and anger outside. When the evil of Columbine occurred, legislation was introduced to allow teachers to keep handguns in their personal vehicles. That’s goddamned stupid – if a kid needs a gun they can just go to the parking lot instead of trying to bring one into the classroom themselves. Teachers need to be taught fighting skills, armed and unarmed responses, how to maneuver in the classroom and what their health expectations should be at all times.
Thus, I have NO expectations. I foresee boredom, anger, seething, hatred and inner turmoil. I know that I can do this job easily and yet, I am going to be made to jump through hoops for someone else’s pleasure. I will barely pass due to the minutiae of the silliness of each and every “i” being dotted, and every “t” being crossed for someone’s personal amusement. If I felt any true grievous fear of the student body I’d stay armed with a buck knife so I could remove the heart and offer it to an ancient god from the depths of Lovecraft’s nightmares.
What shall I learn? That I wasted my time so much earlier in my life and this is my seventh level of a personal Hell that even Dante couldn’t have imagined without laughing and crying at the same time.
What will I do? Shit-work in my faux classroom for no pay for this damned semester. If you want truly qualified people to be ready to love teaching, then you need to show them love. Offer to remove the cost of a year’s tuition by 65% or to take their loans for 2 school years if they stay on contract. Student teaching will NOT pay me one red cent and I shall be among the lowest scumbags of parents, asshole and their spawn skulking about for nothing more than a meal to eat and a place to shit that’s clean or a real classroom to fuck up royally. Expulsion is a joke and there is no corporal punishment.
I admire people who truly love making a difference with children, even with the assholes who should have had their brains dashed against the rocks like Indian babies among the slaughters of the Old West. I weep, for they dwindle in numbers year after year, and no exceptions are made to make people who need to move forward without resentment applicable for a chance to do some good. In all honesty I hate the idea of teaching so much I know on my first day I’ll either vomit on the desk or shit my pants. Not from fear but from pure absolute hatred of my situation.
Becoming a teacher means my dreams are dead and I can’t tell children they can be what they wish when I can’t be that honest example of nothing more than a fucked-up human piece-of-shit!
Fuck you fuck this program fuck this life.
~ J ~
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