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#12 The cover letter I wish I could write….teaching the whole child…with a side of French

I just recently applied for a job. It was one of those “I’m good where I am, but let’s just see where this goes” kind of applications. Truth be told, there is a part of me that misses teaching high school French. I recently asked my principal if they wanted me to be a SEL teacher or a French teacher. That’s how little it feels like I focus on French in my classroom. So, in this job application, I revised my cover letter and the following just came out. I almost uploaded it to the online application. But then I googled “language teacher cover letters” and saw many examples that looked much more professional (snooze) and revised it again.

To Whom It May Concern:

As my fourteenth year in the classroom is coming to a close, I, like many educators, have been changed forever by the 2019-20 and 2020-21 school years. It has given me pause and made me reflect on why I became an educator and how my job suddenly looks very different than it did 14 years ago. To say I have had an epiphany over the past four years and during the pandemic seems cliché, but then again, if I didn’t have an epiphany, something would be drastically wrong. My resume and credentials are attached. Here is my story.

In the beginning, I loved to learn, speak, teach, and basically breathe French and Francophone culture. It was my passion which fueled my desire to share with others and to hopefully impart this same enthusiasm on students. And I was successful in doing so, for the most part. I’ve heard from many former students that I inspired them to study French in college, to pursue a career in education, or to travel. But, as I look back on those early years, I now wonder….who were the students that I missed? Who were the students that I did not inspire, that I did not see, or that I did not hear? What color were they? How did they feel in my classroom? Actually, these aren’t wonderings at all. I know the answers to all of them. The majority of the students I missed or did not truly see or hear were black or brown and they felt disconnected, uninspired, and unseen. And what pains me is that I am also a BIPOC … and I have also felt disconnected and unseen in a classroom, particularly in elementary school. Growing up half-Korean in late 80s early 90s Alabama….is not for the weak. More on that later.

Teaching middle school for the past three years and teaching in a pandemic have opened my eyes to several realities. The first and most important being that education is so much more than one’s content area and, whether it’s realistic or not, the expectation of a teacher is to reach all children. Teaching in a pandemic has taught me that the rapport I build with my students is the most important element to my job and the content comes second. Will this year’s students leave me having mastered -ER verb conjugations and simple sentence structure, and be able to have a short conversation in French? Maybe. But the more important question is will they leave me knowing that I heard their voice and that I cared about them and their experience? Yes, absolutely. In fact, at the end of this school year, my greatest success stories will quite possibly have nothing to do with French. But, these success stories will have everything to do with my students knowing that I see and hear them, in spite of the remote environment and in spite of teaching mostly to a sea of black screens.

Another reality with which I have become very familiar is the systemic inequities in education. In order to understand this inequity and to fight against it, as an educator I have to look inward and examine my own biases. The numerous workshops and discussions in which I have participated have taught me that staying quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing is actually worse than to speak out and risk being misunderstood. Middle school and a global pandemic have taught me that I am a part of this seriously flawed system and the only way to make it better is to accept this, move forward, and work to do better. The question that constantly echoes in the back of my mind is how does this fit with teaching French?. The answer I have come up with so far is that the students’ wellbeing always has to come first. So, if that means I do not teach French for a few days or even a week because I’m working on building community in my classroom, then that’s what my new success looks like.

Maya Angelou said “Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.” I’d like to think that my teaching philosophy heeds this advice. Being an educator has become so much more than facilitating target language comprehensibility or planning with the Backward Design model. Core Practices are important and IB rubrics have their place. But the best, and most important, part of this job will always be helping my students become better humans by teaching them to accept and love themselves and others. And if one day that stops being the best and most important part of this job, then I will know that I am done teaching. A very wise person told me as a student teacher….”First, they have to love you and then they will love French.” I have since argued against this many times in my head; not every student will love me and every student will most certainly not love French. If I were to revise that statement to better fit 2021, it would be this…”First, they have to know that YOU love and value THEM and then they MIGHT love French, but they will DEFINITELY know that you believe in them.”

#11 WTF (what the French), education?! Buzz off, buzz words.

PSA: This particular piece is lacking the witty humor that characterizes most of my posts. Because COVID. If you are not a teacher, you may hear this as a teacher who is martyring themself, or a teacher who is complaining for no reason because we have summers off. To you I say, find a different blog s’il vous plaît. This place is not for you. Look I even used the formal vous—that’s me using my polite voice.

I’ve heard so many people say that teachers have the most important job in the world….that of educating our children or the future. What a beautiful sentiment loaded with tons of pressure, right? I used to almost blush at hearing someone say this….what an honor to be part of a profession that is so widely appreciated! But lately that same statement that I think is meant to be a compliment actually sends me spiraling downward into a deep rabbit-hole of snark and pissy-ness. That’s French for….pissy-ness? It’s from the bottom of that deep rabbit-hole that I write today.

Who’s the expert??? We are in the midst of a pandemic, several pandemics, some say….a health pandemic, a racial equity pandemic, a police brutality pandemic…..um hello? an education pandemic? One would think that during such trying times, the world, our president, parents, administration, would start to see, like really see, the gigantic inequities in our system and maybe… you know… ACT on these realizations. But from what I’ve been experiencing, the “PICs” (people in charge) in education continue to develop CYA (cover your ass) policies, and allow the voices of loud, privileged, and yep I’m gonna say it….WHITE….parents to dictate the direction of education. I have experienced a system that calls upon or even guilts teachers to be more, give more, and do more, meanwhile ignoring their voices when they say “this idea sounds lovely, but in reality, it will not work.” Again, I ask for the millionth time in my career….why the French is no one listening to the licensed professional in the room? When you want to know what heart surgery is like, do you ask someone who knows a heart surgeon or the actual heart surgeon themselves? Like really, who’s going to give the best advice? When you want to know how to decorate your house like a Magnolia (see Fixer Upper on HGTV) house, do you talk to your cousin who has a nice house or do you watch the actual video of Joanna Gaines who is in fact an interior decorator / home decor inspiration to all / business mogul / and epitome of all things fabulous? Again, where will you get the best advice? Your cousin could be spot on, but when trying to mimic the Magnolia style, why mess around? And now let’s bring it home; when you want to know what the French currently goes on inside the classroom on a daily basis, do you talk to a principal who’s in the classroom for 5 minutes a day, or do you talk to the person who teaches in a classroom every single day from 8-3 or some version of that time frame? I exaggerate…some principals enter multiple classrooms a day for 5 minutes each, so I suppose that’s about 20 minutes a day.

Why the buzz words? Why does education or people who are in control /charge of education – “the PICs” – lean so hard into buzz words????? I am a French teacher….do I strive to have an inclusive classroom? Note: inclusive is a buzz word. And, duh, of course I do. That means that I include all learners when I think about my lesson plan, that I try to form relationships with all the young humans that I teach, and that I try somewhat successfully to reach all students including those with IEPs, 504s, and those who just need more love. And when I do not reach them, I try again. What teacher doesn’t do that? The answer is probably a small percentage….because what happened is … a small group of aholes decided to become teachers and did some f-ed up shit in the classroom that made the national news and now America is a bunch of teacher-haters. Why you gotta hate, Murca?? So, the PICs decided to use the word “inclusive” before the word “classroom” to assure parents that teachers are fair and love all the kids, even the hard ones. And problem solved. Ohhhh wait. As it turns out, one word, even a BUZZ word cannot solve the systemic problems with an antiquated education system!

The next buzz word that makes my skin crawl every single frenchin’ time I hear or read it….equity. Calm down, I don’t hate equity. Quite the contrary – I’m a fan, a huge fan of making sure all students have equal access to education, specifically French, even if it means I design 57.65 versions of the same lesson to meet all my learners’ needs because I strive to be inclusive. I’m such a fan that I print out all the equity graphics that I find on Facebook and tape them on my wall so that I have constant reminders to keep this at the forefront of my mind. This does not mean, however, that I need to use it in every conversation, or have it stuffed down my throat at every PD, in every meeting, and in all emails pertaining to remote versus hybrid instruction.

Equity is the driving force behind my district’s recent decision to begin hybrid learning next month. What’s hilarious about this is that over half of the district’s black and brown families have opted to stay remote. Note … I use the adjective “hilarious” here in the most sarcastic way possible – because as one teacher put it on Facebook, if I can’t laugh at this, I may never stop crying. So what does the hybrid model entail? First of all, let’s be clear …. French and all other electives will remain remote – just the core classes (meaning Math, Science, English and Social Studies – you know, the ones that the school counts on for test scores that equal financial support) will attempt to meet in person. But even then I ask … where’s the equity here? Let’s imagine that I teach English….during hybrid learning I will have a small population of students in my classroom that I am teaching in person while the students who have chosen to remain remote will be logged in to a Zoom livestream. There is an extreme likelihood that I will be teaching mostly white students in person and my black and brown students will be logged in remotely. Is this a certainty? No. But I challenge all of my colleagues who teach core classes to take a mental picture of the make-up of their in-person students and tell me I’m wrong.

Statistically, black and brown students feel less connected to school. I know this because in every PD I’ve attended in the past three years, it opens with some jarring statistic along these lines. I’ve also given up my lunch period to attend a PD in which I learned all about disproportionality in education….and a week of my summer to attend a racial justice in the classroom workshop…and countless unpaid hours of my personal time to read about inequities in education, to examine my own internal biases as a teacher who presents as white, to participate in book studies on this same topic. I’m not trivializing these experiences at all; I have learned more about myself as an educator and as a person in the last three years than in my entire teaching career.

Let me be very clear here…the PD and the unpaid work is not the problem. Like most educators, I consider it a privilege to learn more so that I can reach more. What I have a huge problem with is this: the district who has encouraged me and sometimes guilted me to do all of this self-examination in the name of creating a classroom where at-risk students feel more comfortable, more engaged, more connected, etc. ..this SAME DISTRICT…seems to be starting a hybrid learning program that benefits predominantly white students while leaving our black and brown students once again…disconnected. Drop the frenchin’ mic. WTF?! Cheers to the buzz word!

I ask you, how are the students tuning in on a livestream Zoom going to feel connected to a class when the teacher can barely communicate with them? How are these students for whom teachers have done so much training, work, and self reflection going to know that they’re loved when teachers can’t personally connect with them? When all students are in Zoom, it’s easier. You private chat students individually, you pull them into breakout rooms, you share a Google doc, etc. Is it perfect? Um, no. But is it better than teaching in person, where a teacher is responsible for the students in front of them and the students watching on the computer, while at the same frenchin’ time trying to limit the spread and not catch a disease for which they have not been vaccinated even though they’re considered a necessary, can’t live without profession? Yes, I’d say so.

So what’s my point? This pandemic has been the worst and is hard for everyone. All families are stressed and want their kids back in school because in person learning is the best way to learn. However, at what cost? Aren’t we sitting on an opportunity here….an opportunity to uproot this ridiculous system that empowers only a certain kind of students and leaves the black and brown children out? WTF, education?? Take your buzz words and either buzz off with them or put your honey where your mouth is….get it? because buzz and bees?

#10. Oh merde. A reasonable reaction to turning 39.

This is a shortie written when I turned 39 and as I’m rapidly approaching turning 40 freakin’ 1, I found it charming.

Bon anniversaire à moi!! (HBD to me!) Actually, more like Happy Old Day to me….39….officially the age at which my birthday stops being fun. If you’re older than 39 I ask that you unroll those eyes …. I know I’m not menopausal….but for someone who has thoroughly LIVED her 30s, the mere thought of the upcoming 40 is just too much.

I spent my birthday as any other 39 year old woman would …. dancing on top of a bar wearing a tube top. …pause for reaction…..J/K that was my 20s. Can I get a WOOT WOOT for the 20s~ a decade of partying, making horrific relationship mistakes, struggling through grad school, barely paying your bills, and wading through the deep depression when you realize that you’re a real live adult now and you need to get your frenchin’ life together.

No, this is my 39th birthday and in my late 30s I know how to party like a real rockstar….on a 7:15 a.m. flight to Atlanta……..with a toddler….on a plane……in coach….hopped up on Dramamine because in my late 30s, turning left makes me nauseous…..with a toddler….

Update: Shockingly, turning 40 was actually kind of a breeze. I mean it helped that my husband, friends, and family spoiled me rotten with flowers, gifts, and love. We went fancy bowling and then ate 40 pounds of cake at Hugo’s Frog Bar downtown. Cake, bowling, and Miller Lite….made turning 40 epic. And while I did not have the epic 40th birthday bash that I have been planning in my head for um 39 years, I loved everything about my 40th birthday.

Coming soon….a reasonable reaction to turning 40 freakin’ 1.

#9 Commentary on a Mom quote….

Written pre-COVID when Henry was still in diapers during the tame 2s. Note that I didn’t say “terrible twos” because, in hindsight, his twos were not terrible. His 3s and now 4s….different story.

Barnes and Noble is basically a heaven on earth for me at this point in my life. I could spend days in there, sleep in the children’s section using the stuffed animals for pillows and eat at the Starbucks cafe, located conveniently inside most stores. If you read my Starbucks blogpost, you all know how I feel about that! What a brilliant idea by two fortune 500 companies (is Barnes and Noble a fortune 500 company? no idea. But who cares. Whoever thought to put a Starbucks (not just your average coffee cafe) inside one of the last bookstores of all time was a GENIUS. So, like I said, I could live there for days. They have a bathroom too. Obviously, because Starbucks, coffee, need I say more? Where’s the poop emoji when you need one?

I was perusing BN today for the first time in awhile, and stumbled upon a great read. No – that’s a lie – it was a quote book for moms and the author’s name will not be revealed because I am about to say things about it that are a mixture of love and disdain…..much like my feelings about Starbucks.

Anyways, I bought this book for a friend who just got pregnant and while I would have rather written my own book of mom quotes, because (LBR) let’s be real, it would be f*cking hilarious, I’m too f*cking busy being a mom myself to write a book. So instead, I’ve opted to criticize the work of someone who did take the time to write one. Seems fair.

Here’s a quote that spoke volumes to me:

“Too much structured time is unhealthy. Doing nothing time is really important too.”

Yes. Completely agree. #preach #thisshouldbemyblogtitle

In fact, I rather prefer the quiet weekends at home. They’re as stress-free as motherhood can be and hello…. they’re financially free too! Unless you count the Starbucks run….because I don’t. Or the Amazon binge purchases of flair pens and French candy ….WHAT? it’s for my classroom. Anyone knows that you can’t be a French teacher, or at least a successful one, without flair pens and French bonbons (that’s French for candy). And no, when you say bonbons the American way, you are incorrect and I won’t share with you.

Okay so back to the quote – doing nothing is better than doing activities because there’s no pressure. For example, we love to visit to the Garfield Park Conservatory which we fondly refer to as “the jungle” because it’s way easier to say than “conservatory” for me and for Henry. If you’ve been to “the jungle”, you’ll agree with me – in the winter it’s heaven on earth, greenery, humidity, flowers….it’s a Chicagoan’s dream in February which I’ve recently classified as the worst month of all time. Sounds like a lovely activity, right?

Here’s why I’d prefer to do nothing. After I’m done worrying about whether or not I’ve packed enough snacks, diapers, underwear (in case I’m feeling ballsy), and my phone and wallet because I’m leaving my purse at home, and kleenex because his nose has been running since he was 24 months old, and a water bottle for him and a water bottle for me, I’m then worried that Henry has pissed himself and if I don’t change him immediately, he will develop a diaper rash from all the moisture that he’s carrying in that diaper and it’s a lot because I make him sip water every 10 seconds (also stressful) because it’s hot in there, although it’s also humid, and you know, if my kid doesn’t drink water all day, then he will die of dehydration…because that happens….in…one…day. Sh*t, I’m stressed just writing this. Then, when we stop for a snack which is ALWAYS the MOMENT we walk into the building, I have to do the following: #1 find the snack in my backpack, #2 make sure Henry doesn’t run away while I’m doing that, #3 make sure he has enough water – because you know .. dehydration, #4 wipe down the table, #5 wipe my sweat because it’s 30 degrees outside, but like 95 inside since I’m wearing winter boots and a hoodie, #6 pack it all back up because I forgot I have to go pee.

I have the same feelings when we visit the zoo, but now we have involved sunscreen, hats, and sunglasses. Also, there’s a wagon involved to drag him around in plus my own water bottle; oh and the wagon has a canopy that has to be attached because the sunscreen, hat and sunglasses are not enough to shade him from the sun.

more to come….

beautiful flowers at Garfield Park Conservatory. Seriously, if you haven’t been here with child or without, it’s a must-see!

#8 the magical 3 –

I found this draft this morning and thought I would post it because even though it’s very raw and unedited, it describes the age of 3 to a Terrible T. Enjoy!

3 …a mystical number, three strikes, Three’s Company (uh-oh!) , good things and bad things come in threes, three tardies = detention – oh no wait not anymore because Restorative Justice, third times a charm….here’s what this mama wasn’t expecting ….

3 years of age = a minimum of 3 meltdowns a day, at least 3 no’s for every yes….and those do not include thank you after them, repeating myself at least 3 times per conversation only to get a finally answer of NO, or sometimes an ear-piercing scream in my face. Also 3 minute time outs, 3 pairs of underwear a day, sometimes 3 outfits a day, or 3 Mickey shows in a row so I don’t lose my GOSH DARN MIND.

Um to all of you women who neglected to emphasize the shit parts of being a mom – I have a gesture for you and it’s not a royalty wave or a high five. What the FRENCH, ladies???

It goes without saying that the age of 3 has certainly left me longing for those “terrible twos”. Apparently the fit throwing, not listening, screaming 2 year old monster was just an appetizer for the main course who has taken over my son’s body and eaten his soul. Now I have a fit throwing, not listening, screaming 3 year old WHO TALKS BACK and much to my disdain CAN REASON/MANIPULATE, and as of recently SASS.

The other day Henry was attempting to throw a hard plastic Brontosaurus in the direction of another human in the room and of course was immediately reprimanded. So, end of story. He’ll never throw a dinosaur again. Oh wait…..

We went through all the verbiage in several tones ranging from firm to down right exasperated.

“Throwing dinosaurs, specifically Brontosaurus because he’s fucking enormous, hurts people and makes them sad.” (Kidding, we didn’t say “f*ck”.)

“We play nice with our dinosaurs. Brontosaurus has a broken tail and could really scratch, poke, scrape, or murder someone if it hits him/her. (Kidding, we didn’t say “murder”.)

All to which Henry responded by defiantly twirling the Brontosaurus around in the air which looked like he was going to throw it, and saying “I’m just swinging it.”

And to add insult to injury he gave us this look that basically said a variety of taunting remarks; “Go f*ck yourself, guys.”, Whatcha gonna do now, b*tches?, “It’s an Apatosaurus, idiots; Brontosaurus isn’t a thing anymore.”…..

#7 All work and no play ….

makes for one real crabby mama. I knew long before Henry was born that I would be a “working mom”. That term in and of itself is funny to me…as if any mom isn’t “working” with or without air quotes ALL THE FREAKING TIME. #feminist

Anyways I work full time because like the majority of American families, we need the double income. But I don’t just work….I have a career; one that I was at one time very passionate about. You know this “teaching” thing that I’ve written some real sassy blog posts about? Yeah that’s been like my thing; it’s how I identified myself after I FINALLY graduated from college.

Side note I was not a fifth year senior; I was just a passionate idiot about French…so much so that I got my masters in it….dummy. Seriously, every time I tell this story I feel like bitch slapping myself across the face because…..I spent three years reading literature written in the 16th, 17th (Vive Molière! -sorry French joke), 18th, and 19th centuries. I watched all my friends get jobs, start their lives, etc while I sat in a corner and read Molière with a GIANT French-French dictionary on one side of me and a GIANT French to English dictionary on the other side … and post-its and papers and different color highlighters and popcorn and candy wrappers littered across my room. Oh and my French boyfriend in the other room whining about his tennis elbow….more on that later. Oh and my bottle of Adderall and my other bottle of Xanax on my dresser….uh oh…too real for you? I mean who can honestly say they read, analyzed, and wrote about French literature for 3 (really 4 if you count my last year of undergrad) years without developing some sort of social anxiety/ADHD disorder?

My point is…I was so damn passionate about French, that I had to get my Masters in it, and when it came time to get a job, I was in the same pay “lane” as someone who had a Masters in Curriculum and Instruction. No offense to those who hold this degree, but LBR (let’s be real), they’re not the same thing. #whycan’tIevertaketheeasyroute

And that is why teaching French has been my thing…..my whole being has been focused on that for so much of my life that when we had a baby, I was like WHAT THE FRENCH? I love this baby more than teaching? And there are not enough hours in the day to be equally passionate about your career and your kid??? You’ve got to be FRENCHING kidding me!!??!! Thus, like every new mommy, the struggle began and the internal monologue went something like this…

Plan A ~ Lesson plan/grade during nap time after I wake up from my own nap, or maybe I don’t have to stare at him and talk to him during every free moment; maybe he can just look at the millions of visual stimuli that are surrounding him…but can he even see? oh wait…I actually prefer to stare at him because he’s literally a beautiful miracle and I/we made him. And I’m secretly afraid he’s going to die at any minute because I’m a terrible mother and didn’t breastfeed and ate hot dogs while pregnant. Also I cut his finger when trying to trim his nails and it bled a lot, so now he’s going to bleed out. Or he got a sunburn when I took him outside for 10 minutes so that we both could breathe fresh air, but then I got scared that it was too much fresh air, so we came back in. P.S. none of these thoughts are jokes – they are true things that went through my head during those first 3 months of motherhood; even the part about the hot dogs. 😦 Don’t judge. You should have seen me when his little circumcision ring and his belly button fell off at the same moment, in the same DAY. I almost called an ambulance.

Ok, new Plan B ~ …lesson plan after husband comes home and then I can really focus; oh wait…I’m exhausted and I haven’t seen my husband all day (or talked to another adult for that matter or maybe I haven’t even spoken?) so I need/want to talk to him too. Oh and now the baby’s awake and my husband’s home, so what a cute family we are on the couch watching the Cubs! Did I mention I’m exhausted? Also, who’s making dinner?

Ok, Plan C ~ ….F**k the lesson planning, there are thousands of teachers out there who don’t work nearly as hard as I do, and their students are fine. Mine will survive as well. Besides, it’s about damn time I focus on myself and my family………but I’ll just cut out these puzzles while he’s napping.

And then TWO came…….he hates naps now, so I survive the post day-care witching hours of 4-6 p.m. with him and lesson plan/grade when he goes to bed early at 7…oh wait….it’s now 8 p.m. and he is still refusing to brush his teeth. I’m doing all the things …. “Henry, it makes Mommy sad when you don’t listen.”, “Henry, look Mommy’s brushing her teeth and it’s so fun! Wanna join?”, “Henry, you have 5 seconds to start brushing your teeth or you have a time out……side note – time outs are usually in his room, where he is going anyway after he brushes his teeth…clearly I have not thought this one through. And finally the frustration mounts and I feel my dad’s temper burning inside me screaming to be let out….”HENRY BRUSH YOUR DAMN TEETH!” Yes, it happened …. I swore at my child and I yelled, both actions that are considered fairly poor parenting according to literally ALL the books. And guess what …. he still didn’t brush his teeth. I ended up cradling his body, holding his arms down, and pushing the toothbrush through his pursed lips in the hopes that some of the “pea-sized amount” of toothpaste would make it to his teeth. And if you’re wondering if he swallowed the toothpaste, he did and it contained fluoride and I was so pissed at the time that it probably was more than the suggested “pea-sized amount”. Sometimes peas can be different sizes?!?! Also, if he gets a tummy ache, he deserves it; that’s what he gets for waging WWIII on me! Uh-oh those are not appropriate thoughts…..definitely frowned upon by society.

He falls asleep half an hour later, after a book, some snuggles, and 18 kisses because HELLO?!? I love him – he’s my beautiful miracle that I/we made, and honestly even if he was an actual watermelon like my pregnancy app said right before he was born, when you carry someone for 10 months (it’s really 10), then labor for 30 hours and finally push a human out of your body and then recover physically from it, even though you’re never quite emotionally “right” …. you f*cking love that watermelon in spite of yourself. Did I lesson plan that night? What do you think?

The score now: HENRY: 2 MY CAREER: 0.

#6 Educator = Jesus

I used to work at a Catholic school – I know right? Me, such a cynic….working at a school where every day starts and closes with prayer, and where teaching is referred to as a vocation, or rather “a calling”. Much to my surprise this “Mary” intense Catholic school grew on me and before I knew it, I had a little family away from home. I had even made a name for myself and helped to significantly develop the French program.

It was at this such Catholic school where I came to the conclusion that being an educator is similar to being Jesus. The story is that Jesus gave his life for the sins of man, right? And correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s literally a story where Jesus allows the common people to throw stones at him … is it while he’s on the cross? … who can remember …If you’re Catholic and rolling your eyes, no judgement please – my memory has been overworked and underpaid with memorizing verb conjugations, masculine vs. feminine, and imperfect vs. past tense. Anyways, while these idiots were throwing stones at him, he just stood there and took it. And later, when he rose again…if they asked for forgiveness, he forgave them. Garbage, right? Or utter brilliance? Letting the people realize the error in their own ways and accepting their pleas for forgiveness in the hopes of leading them down the right path…….hmmm this rings a bell or two…..

If you still can’t see the parallels between a teacher and the Son of God, here is an example of a daily / weekly conversation between me and a student.

me in my stern voice because I have one: “Please stop running, texting, swearing, yelling, pushing each other, climbing the walls, spitting, being rude, and the list goes on…….”

student : Oh wait. There’s no text here because THEY DIDN’T STOP running, swearing, yelling, pushing each other, climbing the walls, spitting, being rude etc.. Because they literally ignored the fact that an adult / a teacher was speaking to them. ……

me (internal monologue): “What the %$#&@(@) I SAID PLEASE.”

me (re-approaching the student ): ” Excuse me, did you hear me when I asked you nicely to stop _________? ”

student: “yeah.”

me : “So, why didn’t you stop?”

istudent: “Because my friend was ………..”. “Because my ass was on fire.” “Because…………………………………………………

me (internally questioning my career choice for the 5th time that day): “Why do you think it’s okay to ignore a teacher when they’re speaking to you and particularly when they’re asking you to stop doing something that is against the rules?” -In hindsight I realize how lame this sounds, but really, it’s in the heat of the moment and the only other thing that is coming to mind right now is “why the *&*^% do you think it’s okay to ignore a teacher….when they’re *&(*^*%&^g speaking to you?” Trust… sounding “lame” to a kid is much better than explaining to his or her parent why you used the F bomb twice in a sentence when speaking to their child. I have never had this discussion because I always use the lame sounding comments.

This asinine dialogue continues on in a similar manner for way longer than either of us want it to…..and basically ends with a quarter-ass apology (quarter, as in less than half). But, then two weeks later I invite this same small human ball of hormones to have a “let it out” lunch with me because I have lost my damn mind and clearly am just looking for triggers that will make my day even harder. And at this lunch, as we talk about his/her life and his/her drama and I listen intently and give amazing advice because not only am I a French teacher, I’m also a therapist and life coach. And suddenly it happens. I can see it in his/her eyes……….the light goes on and the little thought bubble practically appears out of thin air above their head. It reads, oh dang – she like cares about me and shit.

So let’s recap shall we? The kid who ignored me when I asked him/her to stop whatever-ing, who gave me excuse after excuse as to why he/she didn’t stop whatever-ing…and BTW each of those excuses was dripping with so much hormonal attitude and defiance, I could have filled a six-pack…….only quarter-assed apologized to me. And then a little while later, in the name of “rapport building”, “restorative practice”, and other various educational buzz words, I sacrificed (yes, that’s right….like a lamb or something..) my lunch period to break bread with him/her.

Also it should be noted and perhaps even highlighted that none of this interaction has been done in French – you know the thing I actually have a degree in and that I was hired to teach? In fact, in whatever amount of time has passed between my initial conversation and the lunch invitation, I have thought of little else…which means my French lesson plans….merde, my personal life which I swore to be more mindful of….merde, my mothering skills…more merde, the “stuff” I’m supposed to be doing for my summative evaluation…merde. Have you gotten that “merde” means shit? Just checking.

Because you can’t be a teacher and not take this damn VOCATION home with you. No matter how many New Year’s resolutions you make to separate personal and work life, no matter how many positive mindset books or blogs that you read that encourage embracing your happiness and leaving work at work…….this is a job that comes home for 9 months of the year. This is a job that invades and overtakes for 9 months (kinda like a pregnancy; except no adorable pink infant at the end). This is a job that requires so much personal and emotional sacrifice, even though you may never see the fruits of your efforts.

And that is why Educator should always be capitalized, like Jesus. Because we let them throw metaphoric stones and we stand there and take it while offering them multiple chances to quarter-ass apologize and then later…a free lunch on our dime. Because even when every fiber in our being screams otherwise, we offer them love and acceptance and wine….no just kidding – that was only Jesus. However, when we witness the fruits of our labor and get an nice email from a student who is now in college, or an email from a parent thanking us for positively interacting with his/her child even after he/she acted like a total dufus, or OMG we actually see (with our own eyes!) a change in this midsize ball of hormones, we experience this feeling called “success” and say things like “it was worth it” and use heart emojis and I love my job hashtags on our social media posts. Then we go to work the next day and let the “stone throwing” recommence. I have another “let it out” lunch scheduled next week.

#5 you know you’re a french teacher when…

you buy literally every single t-shirt with a French word on it. You’re welcome Target, Old Navy, Gap, etc.
you receive anywhere from 2-5 Eiffel Tower themed gifts for Christmas or Hanukkah, and your birthday per year.
each time you receive the Eiffel Tower themed gift, you screech like a tween at a Justin Timberlake concert. Oops did I just date myself? Tweens probs go to Demi Lovato concerts? I should know – tweens are my daily audience, but honestly I tune them out when they talk about their social life because……. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.
you get pissed when the French word on previously mentioned t-shirt is missing an accent or the gender is wrong.
you buy the grammatically incorrect shirt anyway….because….who’s really going to know….just don’t wear to any professional development.
on your first visit to the Eiffel Tower you saved a piece of toilet paper from the restroom. Calm down…it wasn’t used. Also it was basically like tissue paper because….public bathrooms in France are the WORST. More on that later.
you have been to France many times, but still take free maps, postcards, napkins, pamphlets, toilet paper (maybe that’s just me) wherever you go because one day you’re going to make a kick-ass bulletin board that no one will appreciate except for you and possibly the one other French teacher that works part-time at your school if he/she has time to look because they’re busy making their own over-the-top bulletin board made up of all the receipts they saved from their trips to France.
the first time you tell people that you teach French, the immediate response is always one of the following: “Oh là là!”, “Ooooh wow.”, “Really?” (eyebrows raised), “Bonjour! I took French in high school, but I don’t remember a thing.”, or “Why French?”
whenever it comes up in a conversation that you speak French, someone inevitably says “Okay, so say something to me in French.” and after you do, this person says “Ohhhhh so beautiful/sexy.”
you unknowingly give people b*tchy looks when they try to pronounce French words which is actually very French of you, so bravo! That means “good job”…… in French.
you set your phone to official time so that you remember how to teach the time after 12 p.m. Why is it so f*cking hard to add 12?!?! If you’re thinking that this is actually not that difficult, then I’m just kidding. If you agree with me….RIGHT?….it’s so difficile! That means “difficult”….in French.
you set your phone to official time because you look cooler in social settings.
you have an Eiffel Tower on your phone case, laptop sleeve, necklace, car bumper sticker, and/or the coffee mug you use every day.
you’re annoyed that everyone thinks the Eiffel Tower is the end-all, be-all monument in France, but yet you still get tears in your eyes every time you see it because it’s what you first loved about France…until you discovered le pain au chocolat and a LEGIT café au lait. That means “chocolate croissant” and “coffee with milk”….in French.
you use the word putain under your breath when you’re frustrated in public in America. That means “f*ck, sh*t, really a myriad of things….in French.

This list could and will go on ……. and on…..and it will …. I will add to this list until it is perfection…..because being a French teacher is not just a job, it’s a calling, it’s a religion, it’s a lifestyle. You cannot teach French in the United States of America unless you are just a tiny bit quirky and love to make weird sounds and throat gurgles, an independent thinker, a forever optimist, a lover of all French themed knick-knacks, and a fighter against those who claim that this beautiful, historical, complex language spoken on 5 continents, one of the top 5 languages spoken at the United Nations, and the official language of the Olympics……..is dead.

Au revoir for now….

#4 Starbucks…insert knife and heart emoji here.

a love/hate relationship but most def … a first world problem

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts….the first world debate that has invaded many a conversation in this country.

I’ve been told by constructive critics 😉 that I need to provide some context for this post. Here it is~ I love Starbucks. It is delicious and fancy and 95% of the time the customer service is amazeballs…… all the things that at least temporarily ease my daily stress. Furthermore, there is a very convenient drive-thru near my house that the nearby Dunkin Donuts lacks. And when it’s 7a.m. and 25 degrees out, who’s really getting out of the car before they have to? At the same time, I hate Starbucks. It’s overpriced, loaded with empty calories, but mostly just over-priced.

Here’s a quick synopsis of the battle between Starbucks love and hate.

The Barista (proper noun? maybe.) greets me in a friendly voice “Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you today?” I can’t decide whether I’m annoyed by this voice or jealous that whoever is on the other end of the speaker is literally always in a fantastic mood. It’s pleasantly refreshing yet patronizing as well. It’s as if that voice is saying “Welcome to Starbucks, you entitled first world brat – what “problem” in your cushy life brings you to the drive-thru today?” It’s like the voice knows that usually Starbucks trips are my reward for a rough morning with my devilish 2 year old, you remember….the one who read the book on how to be the biggest ahole in America? Because every struggle with your child should end in a non-insulated cup of overpriced coffee. Sidenote – why can’t you insulate your coffee cups, Starbucks? One can only drink a venti but so fast. $6 for a coffee that gets cold in 10 minutes?!? Are you like trying to protect the planet or something….where’s the styrofoam? ….that green plastic stick you put in there is not cutting it. LBR (let’s be real), if I’m in a mood to blow 10 bucks on a cup of coffee (obviously I bought a high calorie, carb-loaded treat too because…. go big or go home, right?), do you think I really give a shit if I’m protecting the environment?

Nonetheless, I respond to the annoyingly pleasant yet patronizing voice…….. ” grande iced vanilla soy latte, venti hot vanilla soy latte (because soy makes the vanilla latte much healthier), venti coffee frappucino (don’t judge!), okay fine …. grande coffee frappucino WITH whip……or my new fave…grande toasted white chocolate mocha with soy….WITH whip (because they asked and I need it to contradict the soy).

Then the barista says in his/her sweetest voice because Starbucks is all about customer service or because he/she has sensed my terrible mood and so the patronizing aspect of the voice gets turned up….”Anything else with that today?”

Me (internal thoughts): “What?! I just ordered a minimum $6 coffee drink! And now you have the nerve to assume I’m going to ADD something to my order so that the huge corporate conglomerate can have MORE of my teacher’s salary (see previous blog post for rant/explanation)?!?! Sidenote – I’m not even a little sure if I just used “corporate conglomerate” correctly, but it sounds amazing doesn’t it? Basically I just meant the giant corporation that is Starbucks.

Me (actual voice accompanied by surrendering tone): “Ummmm yes a piece of lemon loaf, please….and a blueberry oatmeal…please.”

Then I go home, immediately turn on Morning Joe, down my venti before it gets cold in 10 minutes, eat BOTH the lemon loaf and the oatmeal….don’t gasp – we’ve all done it and besides the oatmeal cancels out the lemon loaf….and sigh about the state of the world. The result? Self-improvement in three areas: contribution to corporate conglomerate (?) America…CHECK, awareness of national and global issues…CHECK, and confidence as a mother of a hell raising toddler….CHECK.

So, in the end it was worth it….all $25 of my last “end of 2 week vacation” breakfast.

Back to the initial question, do I love or hate Starbucks? It’s an emotional rollercoaster.

#3 when you’re a teacher approaching the end…..

of winter break…..the anxiety of the “January to May” stretch is mounting. You find yourself staring at a pile of grading, half watching reruns of Gossip Girl on Netflix, pondering when your Christmas trees (yes multiple, three to be exact) should be taken down, compiling a mental list of things you didn’t do over break that still need to happen like making doctor, dentist, eye, and if you’re a smart teacher, therapy appointments. Meanwhile, you’re staring out the window and admiring the first peaceful and sunny day you’ve had over break because your toddler is back at daycare whilst struggling with the guilty conscience of using daycare when you’re actually home and not working. Whoa. That’s a mouthful. But that is the definition of a teacher approaching the end of winter break.

And IF you’re rolling your eyes and thinking “oh you poor thing with 2 weeks off from work”, let me remind you of three things:

#1 I don’t get paid for these two weeks, so suck it.

#2 Have you ever met a child nearing winter break? Multiply that times 25-30.

#3 When school is in session, I never come home from work. When I am physically home after school, I am mentally going over what needs to be graded, planned and printed, copied, posted, or cut out in preparation for the next day. While I’m doing that and trying to figure out at what time after bedtime I’m actually going to execute these plans, I’m entertaining a toddler who recently read a book on how to be the biggest ahole in America (Donald Trump excluded —- das RIGHT!). On the weekends, I am juggling living my #reallife (groceries, laundry, cleaning, home improvement plans, and the coveted family time – weird that it’s last on the list …. oops) and still working on executing that same list … oh and carving out some #metime – like a face mask, a Xanax, and Netflix or something along those lines.

Do I sound defensive and ranty? That’s because I am. I have been teaching for twelve years and if you count all of the hours of unpaid work I’ve done, all of the unforeseen garbage I’ve put up with and the emotionally disturbing shit I’ve seen and dealt with, I should be making six figures. Who else does the same job for 12 years without making it at least into the 80k realm of yearly income? Okay – so lots of people maybe, but STILL. If you are a teacher, you know exactly what I’m talking about and if you aren’t, well…keep reading this blog, because you will gain all sorts of insight.