There was an old Reebok ad that asked, simply, "do you have the love?" When it comes to my job, well, it's more to me than that, and I told some people about how miffed I was, so here it is; I was subbing for a teacher who quit after two weeks in the district, citing no other reason than another district made her a better deal. That's what it comes down to. Of course, there's more than that, like, who are you really leaving in the lurch here, if you're the teacher doing so? Your students, first of all; most of them were rowdy, almost all day long yesterday, and I don't blame them for being so. This is apparently the second or third teacher they've had in this job since the beginning of the school year. So yeah, here's another group of students, who have once again been betrayed by another adult. One student referred to his former teacher by a colorful, if unrepeatable euphemism, and over the course of the day, I can see where he'd think that, even if I couldn't say so. I really did feel for the students in this situation. There were students wondering if the teacher had died, been fired, or God-only-knows what else. But they cared, and in this instance, and the teacher is essentially the one who stuck them in the ribs with it. Who else gets caught in the crossfire when something like this happens? ME. Because the students are taking the backlash that should rightfully be directed at you, by virtue of being such a thoughtless cretin, and directing it at ME, because I'm THERE. Easy target, I get it. Although I really don't appreciate being put in that situation by anyone. God help the person who does, as almost anyone who knows me will tell you.

 Never mind that the co-teacher, who's maybe half my age, is looking at me, wondering if she did the right thing writing up a stack of students yesterday. I said the only thing I could, telling her apparently she's the one who is going to be a fixture to these students, so she's the one who has to put her foot down and take control of things. Which is probably not the thing some young teachers wanna hear, but ya know what? Somebody's gotta stand up, and somebody's gotta sit and listen, and you gotta know when it's your turn to do what. Admittedly, in a way it felt good to be the one who was turned to for advice, maybe it's just an acknowledgement of my age, maybe somebody was once again feeding my inner rock star. It doesn't matter really. It feels good to have students who remember my name; my whole name, and call me by it.

Mostly, though, what it alluded to in the beginning is what really has me so miffed. Teaching is a calling to me, no different to some than being a doctor, or a priest, or whatever. I take offense to the people who do it, as they say in hip-hop parlance, to "stack chips." It's not about the Benjamins, and it go**amned-well never should be. Being in the public trust, even to the extent that I am, (or am not, as some might view it,) is very nearly sacrosanct to me.If you are in charge of the minds of a group of students, and somebody makes you a better offer, at least have the decency to wait until the end of the school year, or Spring Break, or whatever. Don't think it doesn't matter to the students who's up there, and don't think it doesn't matter to me how you are.  Don't defile what I do with your attitudes, and if you are in education, and "all about the Benjamins," (which is silly, frankly because if you are, you have to realize you could be doing a lot better,) do me and every other hard-working teacher a favor and go find your f**king future in mortgage banking, where you belong.