So besides being a manic depressive OCD almost 30 female, I also have a genetic condition. Which I will not go into. Needless to say it requires a very expensive treatment, which I receive every two weeks. Which I have not received for over six months for reasons beyond my control. It's starting to get to me. Without treatment, toxins build up and my bones hurt and I get really tired. Like bone weary exhaustion tired. It's starting to get to me. I have to miss days of school because I hurt so much, it's just not possible to go in. Yesterday was one of these days. I called in a sub like a good teacher and left instructions. I come back to school today, refreshed somewhat and ready to clean up the mess that inevitably follows a substitute. Little did I know what was waiting for me.
The minions of Hades took over my classroom. Hell broke loose, chaos ensued, the seven horsemen of the Apocalypse stopped in for a chat and there was screaming and gnashing of teeth.
Let me break this down. It would be a hilarious story if it wasn't so god damn appalling. Let me just say this, this aint the old days, folks. Things are not how they used to be. Well, for me they are but I digress.
First period, my students ask me how I found "Odysseus" to sub the classroom and if I planned it on purpose. Not a good sign. One kid follows this by saying," Well, Odysseus if he came home from his adventures and didnt eat for a few years or became a middle age hippy." Greeeaaat.
Look at my back counter. Hmmm. Don't remember those big paint splotches being there. Look at my desk. Hmmm. Don't remember my planet mobile being that tangled. Pick up the paint containers. Hmmm. Don't remember them being so empty.
Channel One starts. "Hey, Ms. H, did you hear what happened in your seventh period?" "Well, they made a mess, I can see that." "Oh, your sub was weird though. He sent like half the class to the office." Exaggeration, one or two kids per period. Still one or two kids more per period than I ever have sent to the office. I say, "Oh, I see. I'll have to see if the sub left me a note."
Go next door. "Hey next door teacher, whats up? Did the sub leave me a note or anything?" "Did you hear what happened in your seventh period? You missed all the fun." It's one thing when you get asked that question from a student but when it comes from your next door teacher, it's something else entirely. "Oh yeah? What happened?" "That one kid you have, D?" That's almost all I need to hear. I can see the snowball start to roll. I feel fear clench my guts and my skin goes cold. "Yeeessss?" I answer.
"He started a paint war. I think the VP wants to talk to you and tell you what all happened"
Oh fantastic.
And it only gets better.
Over the course of the day and through my many conversations about the topic, this is what I learn.
1. A gets paint she is not supposed and starts to paint her pants.
2. D wants to help. A chases him with paint.
3. D chases back.
4. D spills paint on the floor.
5. D starts sliding around in paint on the floor.
6. Sub tells A and D to knock it off.
7. Other students join in the fun.
8. Sub is freaking out. Tries to grab paint from D.
9. D lifts up paint tray and dumps contents onto own shirt. Splatters paint on sub in process.
10. Angry sub says, "Here, let me help you" picks up handful of paint and slaps the paint onto D's chest. Then D's back.
11. Other student and D run to office.
"Miss H, it was the messiest I have ever seen a classroom. There was paint smeared on the floor from the door to the front of the room. All over the back counter, the sinks, the desks and the kids involved. I came in and made them stop what they were doing and clean the room up. We had the janitor bring in a mop. I'm sorry, we tried to get it all cleaned up for you," says Mr. VP.
12. D gets arrested. Sent to Juvy.
13. Sub walks out. Quits. Or will be fired. Never wants to see this school again.
14. D may not ever come back to our school.
I am DONE with paint.
Seventh period gets a lovely lecture in which I wax poetic about how disappointed I am. A raises hand to ask for the hall pass during said diatribe. Big mistake. No more Miss Nice H. I got angry for the first time this whole year. My class has never been so quiet. I have never been so strict. Or mean. It's a side of me I'm going to be exploring a little bit in the days to come. I have never been so livid with any student or class in my life. I have never wanted to scream and yell more than I wanted to today. I did not scream and yell, in case you were wondering, I just used a very harsh tone. I literally, seriously had to hold back my instinct to start stomping on the floor all tantrum-like. But I did, I was very composed. I HATE that like 3 kids ruin that class for the 20 nice, sweet kids who just want to hang out and learn art. That group of kids will no longer run my classroom. I am done with trying to cajole and threaten and ask nicely. It's time for the big guns.
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