Thursday, June 08, 2006

Resume I don’t really want to respond to Ms. Mother of ****. First of all, I don’t know what to say. What does she want me to say? I’m sorry? You’re right?
I get the feeling that she just wanted to share her feelings about my severe ineptitude – she doesn’t really want me to respond. I could attempt to defend myself against some of the transgressions she accused me of, but it doesn’t really matter at this point. She has said her peace – there really isn’t much to resolve or fix. It doesn’t matter that I did get her a list of ****’s assignments (which *****promptly lost), just not the moment she asked for it; I told her I needed a day or two to get the list together.
It doesn’t matter that everyone has to start somewhere and I couldn’t have just automatically taught the subtleties of books like Othello and Frankestein without having read them. Am I supposed to lie and pretend I had read them? How am I supposed to answer students’ questions other than “I’ll have to go back and look at that because I don’t know right off the top of my head”.
I did fail her daughter. I am not the “best” teacher who inspires, nor am I even a favorite of any other students either. I didn’t connect to ****– I don’t think I connected to anyone, actually, which is probably due to some personal defect on my part. I don’t want to be anyone’s pet teacher. I don’t want to be best friends with my students. I guess I feel like lashing out at her, and criticizing her parenting practices. Why have I never met or heard about ****’s father? What’s wrong with their relationship? Is he embarrassed that **** is such a freak? What about ****’s OCD (if that’s even what it is; I happen to think she has Asberger’s)? What did they do wrong to bring that out in their child? I feel like she is attacking me that personally. I feel like she’s going straight for my jugular.

About the only thing I can do is breathe in and out. In and Out. And try again, because

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
—–Dorothy Parker.

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