Due to an assembly, the recess times had to be adjusted. Because of this, my class had to go out to recess with the upper grades.
My tards were not ready for this. They were getting beat badly in wall-ball and basketball. Brad got hit in the head and knocked over by the tetherball. He was playing against a kid twice his size. The kid served the ball and Brad went to swat at it. He missed and got clocked in the head instead. All the kids laughed.
I am not going to let them have recess with the older kids again.
Showing posts with label Brad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brad. Show all posts
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Saturday, November 7, 2015
58: Treat jar causes problems:
Brad and Tom got into a huge fight about who, out of the two of them, would get to chose from the Friday treat jar first. The Friday treat jar is glass, and has a metal top on it.
The two of them were pulling at the jar, each trying to select a piece of candy first, when they dropped the treat jar on the tile floor, causing it to shatter. This causes mixed reactions amongst the tards.
Some immediately burst into tears, as they can not deal with loud, startling noises. Lewis freaks out, and stays as far away from the glass he can because "Glass has AIDS." All Brian wants to do is pick up the little bits of glass. Because of this, he is removed from the classroom until the custodian comes down to sweep it all up. Augusta charges the remnants of the broken jar like a pinata had just been broken into. He completely ignores the glass aspect, and starts grabbing at the candy on the floor. He cuts his hand, but it still takes two aides to remove him and his bleeding hand from the candy.
I decide that it is too dangerous to have the tards in the room with broken glass all over, so I take them outside to play until it was all cleaned up.
The two of them were pulling at the jar, each trying to select a piece of candy first, when they dropped the treat jar on the tile floor, causing it to shatter. This causes mixed reactions amongst the tards.
Some immediately burst into tears, as they can not deal with loud, startling noises. Lewis freaks out, and stays as far away from the glass he can because "Glass has AIDS." All Brian wants to do is pick up the little bits of glass. Because of this, he is removed from the classroom until the custodian comes down to sweep it all up. Augusta charges the remnants of the broken jar like a pinata had just been broken into. He completely ignores the glass aspect, and starts grabbing at the candy on the floor. He cuts his hand, but it still takes two aides to remove him and his bleeding hand from the candy.
I decide that it is too dangerous to have the tards in the room with broken glass all over, so I take them outside to play until it was all cleaned up.
52: Tards send themselves cards:
In order to assist the kids in writing out their Valentines, I sent home a list containing the names of every kid in the class. Basically, I photocopied my attendance sheet.
The funniest part of this is that almost every kid addressed a valentine to themselves! (To: Brad, From: Brad)
None of them had any clue that they had done this either. As they were distributing their cards, they would read out loud who it was to. They didn't even think twice when reading that they had given themselves a valentine.
The funniest part of this is that almost every kid addressed a valentine to themselves! (To: Brad, From: Brad)
None of them had any clue that they had done this either. As they were distributing their cards, they would read out loud who it was to. They didn't even think twice when reading that they had given themselves a valentine.
51: Valentines Day Party:
We had a Valentines day party. The activity was frosting and decorating heart shaped sugar cookies. It was awesome! We had like 10 different kinds of candy to decorate with, and the kids absolutely loved it! They had a ball decorating their cookies. The problem arose when the kids had to take turns going to the "decorating table".
I had set up a table in back with the cookies, frosting, plates and all the little decorating candies. There was only enough room for three kids at a time to be there. I chose three kids at a time to go back, and made my selections based on behavior, so they decorated in an order of best to worst behaved kids. The order started with Lindsay, Peter and The New Kid and would end with Brad, Jamal and Augusta.
This freaked Augusta, causing him to assume there would be slim pickings on the candy. He was pissed off. He was so pissed off and concerned about the candy usage, that he took it upon himself to monitor, from his desk, each students decorating job.
None of the other kids in my class would ever think this way. They would be pissed because they had to wait so long to make their cookie, but never would it occur to them to be pissed at the depletion of candy. There was heaps and mounds of candy on that back table. Ten plates full of different candy; we weren't going to run out if there had been fifteen Augustas decorating cookies.
I knew this, but Augusta didn't. He watched each kids cookies like a greedy hawk, constantly commenting about using too much candy. It was pissing me off because they kids were having a good time doing a special activity.
I had warned him to pipe down a few different times before he called Tom a "fat pig" for using lots of candy on his cookie, and eating some while he decorated. I sent him out to sit in the hall. Right before it would have been his turn to make a cookie, the office buzzed my room, informing me that Augusta's mother was in the office to pick him up early, and I was to send him down ready to go home.
All his worrying had been done in vain, and in the end, he would have no cookie to eat.
I went out to the hall to tell him to get his stuff and go down to the office, his mother was here to get him. He refuses to go. I went back in the room and packed all his stuff up for him. I then went out to the hall to give it to him. He refused to take it, so I put it on the floor next to him. He refused to get up, to walk down the office, etc.
I wanted him out of there. He was being rude and disobedient. He wouldn't go. This is when Riti Sped forms a brilliant plan.
I remember that Augusta had really enjoyed the play Hansel and Gretel that we had seen two weeks earlier. I gave my aide a bag of Hershey Kisses. She went out to the hall and laid them out in a scattered trail, leading to the office. I give Augusta a paper sack, and tell him there is a trail of treats laid out that will lead him to a prize. He jumps up and snatches the bag out of my hand. I had never before seen him move so fast.
He begins furiously picking up the chocolates. He was like a police dog searching for drugs. My aide followed Augusta out and all the way to the office. I needed her there in the end, as I knew he would be upset and accuse me of lying. He gets to the office where his mom is waiting. He completely ignores her, and inquires about the location of his prize. "Well it is your mom Augusta, she is your special prize!" my aide happily announces to him.
He does not like this one bit. He starts bitching out his mom in front of the entire office staff. He was saying things like she was to buy him a bag of cookies, and that she ruined his plan for his cookie.
He finally calmed down when his mom agreed to buy him his OWN ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins that he would not have to share with anybody.
I had set up a table in back with the cookies, frosting, plates and all the little decorating candies. There was only enough room for three kids at a time to be there. I chose three kids at a time to go back, and made my selections based on behavior, so they decorated in an order of best to worst behaved kids. The order started with Lindsay, Peter and The New Kid and would end with Brad, Jamal and Augusta.
This freaked Augusta, causing him to assume there would be slim pickings on the candy. He was pissed off. He was so pissed off and concerned about the candy usage, that he took it upon himself to monitor, from his desk, each students decorating job.
None of the other kids in my class would ever think this way. They would be pissed because they had to wait so long to make their cookie, but never would it occur to them to be pissed at the depletion of candy. There was heaps and mounds of candy on that back table. Ten plates full of different candy; we weren't going to run out if there had been fifteen Augustas decorating cookies.
I knew this, but Augusta didn't. He watched each kids cookies like a greedy hawk, constantly commenting about using too much candy. It was pissing me off because they kids were having a good time doing a special activity.
I had warned him to pipe down a few different times before he called Tom a "fat pig" for using lots of candy on his cookie, and eating some while he decorated. I sent him out to sit in the hall. Right before it would have been his turn to make a cookie, the office buzzed my room, informing me that Augusta's mother was in the office to pick him up early, and I was to send him down ready to go home.
All his worrying had been done in vain, and in the end, he would have no cookie to eat.
I went out to the hall to tell him to get his stuff and go down to the office, his mother was here to get him. He refuses to go. I went back in the room and packed all his stuff up for him. I then went out to the hall to give it to him. He refused to take it, so I put it on the floor next to him. He refused to get up, to walk down the office, etc.
I wanted him out of there. He was being rude and disobedient. He wouldn't go. This is when Riti Sped forms a brilliant plan.
I remember that Augusta had really enjoyed the play Hansel and Gretel that we had seen two weeks earlier. I gave my aide a bag of Hershey Kisses. She went out to the hall and laid them out in a scattered trail, leading to the office. I give Augusta a paper sack, and tell him there is a trail of treats laid out that will lead him to a prize. He jumps up and snatches the bag out of my hand. I had never before seen him move so fast.
He begins furiously picking up the chocolates. He was like a police dog searching for drugs. My aide followed Augusta out and all the way to the office. I needed her there in the end, as I knew he would be upset and accuse me of lying. He gets to the office where his mom is waiting. He completely ignores her, and inquires about the location of his prize. "Well it is your mom Augusta, she is your special prize!" my aide happily announces to him.
He does not like this one bit. He starts bitching out his mom in front of the entire office staff. He was saying things like she was to buy him a bag of cookies, and that she ruined his plan for his cookie.
He finally calmed down when his mom agreed to buy him his OWN ice cream pie from Baskin Robbins that he would not have to share with anybody.
36: Riti's a teacher, not a dietitian:
Brad's mom has specifically asked me to watch over his sugar intake. Apparently, they think he may be diabetic. I adhere to her request, but he hates it. When the others get to chose from the treat jar, Brad gets a sticker. Don't get me wrong, Tards love stickers, but the Tard needs hierarchy begins with candy.
One time Brad got fed up with this arrangement, and told me, "Aren't you listening to me, I don't want ANY fucking stickers!"
But by far the best part about this whole non-sugar things was this:
Thursday they are in the lunch line. They get to chose their beverage. The choices: white milk, chocolate milk, orange juice, apple juice, grape juice. Brad's mom had told me that he could have any of the options except chocolate milk. Of course, this is exactly what he wants.
I told him that chocolate milk was not an option. He flipped out, rattling off numerous funny comments, including: "White milk looks like bunny throw-up," and "Even that fat kid gets chocolate milk" (referring to Augusta, who always selects 2 chocolate milks) and to me, "I'd like to see you drink white milk." He is right, I hate white milk, but I did not tell him this.
He settled on grape juice. Then we argued over whether or not he could have a cookie. I wasn't up for the argument. I am not a dietitian. I am a tard teacher. Recognize.
One time Brad got fed up with this arrangement, and told me, "Aren't you listening to me, I don't want ANY fucking stickers!"
But by far the best part about this whole non-sugar things was this:
Thursday they are in the lunch line. They get to chose their beverage. The choices: white milk, chocolate milk, orange juice, apple juice, grape juice. Brad's mom had told me that he could have any of the options except chocolate milk. Of course, this is exactly what he wants.
I told him that chocolate milk was not an option. He flipped out, rattling off numerous funny comments, including: "White milk looks like bunny throw-up," and "Even that fat kid gets chocolate milk" (referring to Augusta, who always selects 2 chocolate milks) and to me, "I'd like to see you drink white milk." He is right, I hate white milk, but I did not tell him this.
He settled on grape juice. Then we argued over whether or not he could have a cookie. I wasn't up for the argument. I am not a dietitian. I am a tard teacher. Recognize.
26: Tards contribute snacks:
Augusta comes to school today with snacks that he was donating to the class. A regular size ziploc sandwich bag stuffed so full of nuts that it would barely close. It was weird. I put them aside, and later when the kids are at music I look more carefully at the nuts. There are 2 kinds of nuts in the bag. Hazelnuts and Brazil nuts. Both of which are nasty. They were also salted.
I was puzzled, so I asked Augusta about the odd donation. He told me that his family has a huge 5 pound can of mixed nuts at home, and that they liked all of the nuts except these two kinds. Super. I am very excited about feeding the rejected nuts from Augusta's family to my class.
Other donations:
- Lindsay: Scooby-Doo fruit snacks
- Brad: peanut butter Rice Krispy treats
- Tom: cheese mini-Ritz bits
I know what I will be giving Augusta for his snack for a long, long time.
I was puzzled, so I asked Augusta about the odd donation. He told me that his family has a huge 5 pound can of mixed nuts at home, and that they liked all of the nuts except these two kinds. Super. I am very excited about feeding the rejected nuts from Augusta's family to my class.
Other donations:
- Lindsay: Scooby-Doo fruit snacks
- Brad: peanut butter Rice Krispy treats
- Tom: cheese mini-Ritz bits
I know what I will be giving Augusta for his snack for a long, long time.
Friday, November 6, 2015
16: A review of Riti Sped's Christmas gifts:
The season of giving takes a whole new meaning when you are a special education teacher. Every year I get ridiculous gifts. I would rather get a simple hug around my legs accompanied by large quantities of drool, rather than what my kids bring me. For the most part I just thank the tards, take the gifts home, re-wrap them, and give them to other tards in my class. No one knows the difference, and everyone is happy. Here are some of the gifts I got this year:
--The stickers are from Brad, the kid who furiously tore apart his stickerbook while calling me an asshole and a greedy bitch. Because of this specific outburst, all of the tards will be rewarded with these stickers for their stickerbooks. Except for Brad.
--A used book. The binding is worn and it even smells like mothballs. Great. The Frango breathmints are a nice touch. This is a puzzling gift, because I am the only one out of all the kids who actually brushes their teeth on a regular basis.
--Unpackaged cocoa mix and marshmallows! SOMEBODY fucking touched this shit. Thanks, I'll pass on the Christmas Hepatitis C to all my friends. I'm sure they'll be very appreciative.
--An assortment of stupid shit:
1. I have always hated stretch mittens. Especially this pair--blue and green stripes?! I wouldn't give these to a freezing homeless person, and even if I did he'd probably throw them back in my face.
2. Stupid Cheap Christmas Ornaments. I don't have a fucking tree, and these ornaments are gay anyway. If you want any of the pictured ornaments, they are currently in the dumpster behind my house.
3. More fucking cocoa mix! I've never once drank cocoa in front of my tards, or ever claimed to like it, yet come Christmas time, I get it by the bushel. At least this time it is packaged. It will sit in the top drawer of my desk for years, until I use it as a birthday gift for one of my other tards.
4. Washable markers? Yes, thank you, I am not retarded, I can draw inside the lines and on appropriate surfaces.
5. A book about the solar system. What am I going to do with this? Read it to the class? They won't understand it.
--This is a tard card. This is the front of the card, and this is the message on the inside. This card is funny for the following reasons:
1. It is a cat saying "Hi Hun."
2. The front says, "To: Miss [Sped] From: ???" The girl who gave this to me did so in person, and she also signed her name on the inside. So what is up with the little guessing game????
3. Numerous misspellings. Some are phonetically impossible. I blame myself, as I am obviously a poor teacher. Oh wait, nevermind, she's retarded.
--Chocolate dipped pretzel sticks wrapped in Kleenex, in the cardboard box, with the Homer Simpson pencil holder that has "Carpe Diem: Seize the Donut" written on the front. I don't even know what to say about this.
--A dog dish. This I actually like. It is a hell of a paint job, especially for a tard. It was painted at one of those little places where you pick out something and paint it (note that I already put some of my shit in it.)
--This is classic. The Starbucks Christmas bear--from 2000--in a "Happy Birthday" bag. My birthday is in July. Maybe the tard's parents can't read either.
--Your run of the mill tard love letter.
--I got a Starbucks gift card from a girl whose mom has attempted suicide numerous times. The gift card was for 20 bucks. I was slightly excited about it, because this is finally a gift I can use, as opposed to the normal tard gifts.
I tried to use it the next day. The Starbucks cashier swiped it, and then asked me to wait while she got a manager. The card had never been activated! The mother had jacked it from Starbucks without considering the whole activation aspect.
It was so embarrassing. I didn't even try to explain the story to the manager because it is so ridiculous. Everyone there thought I stole it and tried to use it. I paid for the latte, but was angry and embarrassed about it. To The Mom: Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too.
--I did get one good thing---a Barnes and Noble gift card. And this one was not stolen! The mom is a nurse and normal. Once I opened it I knew exactly what it would be used for: My new coffee table book will be Tucker Max's Belligerence and Debauchery: The Tucker Max Stories.
--The stickers are from Brad, the kid who furiously tore apart his stickerbook while calling me an asshole and a greedy bitch. Because of this specific outburst, all of the tards will be rewarded with these stickers for their stickerbooks. Except for Brad.
--A used book. The binding is worn and it even smells like mothballs. Great. The Frango breathmints are a nice touch. This is a puzzling gift, because I am the only one out of all the kids who actually brushes their teeth on a regular basis.
--Unpackaged cocoa mix and marshmallows! SOMEBODY fucking touched this shit. Thanks, I'll pass on the Christmas Hepatitis C to all my friends. I'm sure they'll be very appreciative.
--An assortment of stupid shit:
1. I have always hated stretch mittens. Especially this pair--blue and green stripes?! I wouldn't give these to a freezing homeless person, and even if I did he'd probably throw them back in my face.
2. Stupid Cheap Christmas Ornaments. I don't have a fucking tree, and these ornaments are gay anyway. If you want any of the pictured ornaments, they are currently in the dumpster behind my house.
3. More fucking cocoa mix! I've never once drank cocoa in front of my tards, or ever claimed to like it, yet come Christmas time, I get it by the bushel. At least this time it is packaged. It will sit in the top drawer of my desk for years, until I use it as a birthday gift for one of my other tards.
4. Washable markers? Yes, thank you, I am not retarded, I can draw inside the lines and on appropriate surfaces.
5. A book about the solar system. What am I going to do with this? Read it to the class? They won't understand it.
--This is a tard card. This is the front of the card, and this is the message on the inside. This card is funny for the following reasons:
1. It is a cat saying "Hi Hun."
2. The front says, "To: Miss [Sped] From: ???" The girl who gave this to me did so in person, and she also signed her name on the inside. So what is up with the little guessing game????
3. Numerous misspellings. Some are phonetically impossible. I blame myself, as I am obviously a poor teacher. Oh wait, nevermind, she's retarded.
--Chocolate dipped pretzel sticks wrapped in Kleenex, in the cardboard box, with the Homer Simpson pencil holder that has "Carpe Diem: Seize the Donut" written on the front. I don't even know what to say about this.
--A dog dish. This I actually like. It is a hell of a paint job, especially for a tard. It was painted at one of those little places where you pick out something and paint it (note that I already put some of my shit in it.)
--This is classic. The Starbucks Christmas bear--from 2000--in a "Happy Birthday" bag. My birthday is in July. Maybe the tard's parents can't read either.
--Your run of the mill tard love letter.
--I got a Starbucks gift card from a girl whose mom has attempted suicide numerous times. The gift card was for 20 bucks. I was slightly excited about it, because this is finally a gift I can use, as opposed to the normal tard gifts.
I tried to use it the next day. The Starbucks cashier swiped it, and then asked me to wait while she got a manager. The card had never been activated! The mother had jacked it from Starbucks without considering the whole activation aspect.
It was so embarrassing. I didn't even try to explain the story to the manager because it is so ridiculous. Everyone there thought I stole it and tried to use it. I paid for the latte, but was angry and embarrassed about it. To The Mom: Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too.
--I did get one good thing---a Barnes and Noble gift card. And this one was not stolen! The mom is a nurse and normal. Once I opened it I knew exactly what it would be used for: My new coffee table book will be Tucker Max's Belligerence and Debauchery: The Tucker Max Stories.
2: Tards and stickers
I teach special education, kindergarten through 6th grade. I think it is important to note that my tards will do anything for stickers.
One of my kids is a highly-functioning autistic. He is very smart, but quite troubled. This was our sticker conversation today, (“Brad” is his name):
Brad: "Do I get two stickers today, one for last Wednesday and one for today?"
Me: "No, Brad, you didn't earn your sticker last Wednesday, you did not make good choices, and talked back to the recess teacher and kicked Fred."
Brad: "Fine. I hate you. I hate you so much. My Dad hates you to. You're a sorry bitch. My dad buys me all the stickers I want, so I don't even need more stickers. You are greedy and an asshole."
At this point I hit the button on the wall, to summon the principal for help.
Brad starts to tear his sticker book apart. Page by page, ripping it to shreds. This lasts for like 30 seconds. At which point he looks at me and says, "Now look what you made me do!! My dad is gonna be so mad at you. You owe me three months of stickers for this."
Needless to say, the tard will not get another sticker from me. He will not get to chose from the Friday treat jar either.
One of my kids is a highly-functioning autistic. He is very smart, but quite troubled. This was our sticker conversation today, (“Brad” is his name):
Brad: "Do I get two stickers today, one for last Wednesday and one for today?"
Me: "No, Brad, you didn't earn your sticker last Wednesday, you did not make good choices, and talked back to the recess teacher and kicked Fred."
Brad: "Fine. I hate you. I hate you so much. My Dad hates you to. You're a sorry bitch. My dad buys me all the stickers I want, so I don't even need more stickers. You are greedy and an asshole."
At this point I hit the button on the wall, to summon the principal for help.
Brad starts to tear his sticker book apart. Page by page, ripping it to shreds. This lasts for like 30 seconds. At which point he looks at me and says, "Now look what you made me do!! My dad is gonna be so mad at you. You owe me three months of stickers for this."
Needless to say, the tard will not get another sticker from me. He will not get to chose from the Friday treat jar either.
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