Why, you might ask, is this young lad smiling so joyfully while sitting at his desk? Because he didn't have to carry the damn thing down three flights of stairs, that's why.
You see, it's that time of year when teachers artfully arrange their classrooms so that this jolly whippersnapper and his ilk can destroy them within a matter of weeks. For me this meant lugging ten desks from the fifth floor to my classroom. No elevator, only a winding staircase slanted to promote the highest potential for plummeting to your death.
Why was I doing this? I arrived at school this morning to find that oh joy, oh rapture, enrollment was up up up. Which is good for the school, allowing us to stay open and so forth. But it is not good for my classroom, which is not meant to hold upwards of thirty morose fourteen-year olds at one time.
My room is very nice. It stays cool in the caustic days of late August and warm in arctic January. Still, its maximum capacity is, oh, twenty-four desks. It is small, which is not something I am upset about. It's good for everyone involved when a class's size is kept as low as possible. More one-on-one time with students, etc. But the kids will be packed in my room like yuppies at a street festival, and I only have twenty desks. Well, had. Now I have thirty. Thirty antique, gum coated, sticky scoliosis-inducers ready for my students' displeasure.
Four hours of this and other similar pack-mulery also means that I did not have time to work on my lessons today. Will I be working on them tonight? Probably not.
Why?
Do I really have to tell you the answer?
No comments:
Post a Comment