Friday, September 26, 2003
FRIDAY
I agreed to hang out at Barnes and Noble with "the girls" tonight. "The girls" consists of 3 or 4 single girls who also teach various subjects at the high school level. Three of us teach English (9th, 10th and 11th, respectively) and the other teaches Spanish. We are between the ages of 23 and 28(?). Having devoted our lives to the amalgamated art and science of teaching, we are- as our students are wont to remind us- without lives. We try to get together from time to time, but it can be awkward, as only one of the other girls likes to do what I do- she is the Spanish teacher. She is the only one that will go dancing, the only one that will throw back a drink or two- the only one who is not willing to give up "the fun" for something more tame, like an "I'm-throwing-a-candle-party-come-and-browse" soiree, replete with small, flaky pastries served on fine china, eaten with pinky fingers pointed heavenward.
Make no mistake, the 10th and 11th grade teachers are fine human beings, but what do we all have in common, really? (Besides our English and our students?) The 10th grade Eng. teacher occasionally comes to our department meetings crying about one thing or another; she seems to be very sensitive and delicate of the heart. She would rather write flowery poetry than mete out detentions. Her students see right through her and walk all over her. I pity her tears to her face, but remain perplexed in private.
The 11th grade Eng. teacher is a very tall woman. Very tall. She is goofy and funny. If I am outgoing, loud, and funny, she is 10x more so, and I am a little jealous that she can make anyone (i.e. administrators and such) feel at ease in her presence. I seem to intimidate first, then befriend.
And tonight we have agreed to go "out." I had major plans after work today but I decided to put them on hold for the sake of hanging out and making nice. Of course, my plans included a serene and pensive drive home, an hour or two of guitar, maybe a movie, two Benadryl and a sound sleep in between crispy, clean sheets.
There's always tomorrow.
I agreed to hang out at Barnes and Noble with "the girls" tonight. "The girls" consists of 3 or 4 single girls who also teach various subjects at the high school level. Three of us teach English (9th, 10th and 11th, respectively) and the other teaches Spanish. We are between the ages of 23 and 28(?). Having devoted our lives to the amalgamated art and science of teaching, we are- as our students are wont to remind us- without lives. We try to get together from time to time, but it can be awkward, as only one of the other girls likes to do what I do- she is the Spanish teacher. She is the only one that will go dancing, the only one that will throw back a drink or two- the only one who is not willing to give up "the fun" for something more tame, like an "I'm-throwing-a-candle-party-come-and-browse" soiree, replete with small, flaky pastries served on fine china, eaten with pinky fingers pointed heavenward.
Make no mistake, the 10th and 11th grade teachers are fine human beings, but what do we all have in common, really? (Besides our English and our students?) The 10th grade Eng. teacher occasionally comes to our department meetings crying about one thing or another; she seems to be very sensitive and delicate of the heart. She would rather write flowery poetry than mete out detentions. Her students see right through her and walk all over her. I pity her tears to her face, but remain perplexed in private.
The 11th grade Eng. teacher is a very tall woman. Very tall. She is goofy and funny. If I am outgoing, loud, and funny, she is 10x more so, and I am a little jealous that she can make anyone (i.e. administrators and such) feel at ease in her presence. I seem to intimidate first, then befriend.
And tonight we have agreed to go "out." I had major plans after work today but I decided to put them on hold for the sake of hanging out and making nice. Of course, my plans included a serene and pensive drive home, an hour or two of guitar, maybe a movie, two Benadryl and a sound sleep in between crispy, clean sheets.
There's always tomorrow.
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