The Black Hole

School. The place where I work. The place where I go to make money. Because dog biscuits don't grow on trees, you know.

After an especially long and tiring week, I realized that there hadn't been a blog post devoted to my place of employment, other wise known as, The Black Hole. I also realized, after taking a nap at 4pm almost everyday this week, that hating your job is exhausting. While I would love to show visual proof of every reason I hate my job, I don't think most of my colleagues would like to have their picture taken for my sadistic pleasure. On top of which, their caddy, unprofessional, disrespectful personalities really wouldn't come through in a photo. Visually they really look like ok people.
Being the music teacher definitely comes with perks. No testing is a big one. Standardized tests are the worst thing ever for a child's self esteem. Not to mention the piles and piles of paperwork from continuous testing throughout the year. However, it also has its down sides. Not being considered a Real Teacher is a big one for me. "Why do you have to go to Open House? You're not a Real Teacher." "What do you mean you have a certification? You're not a Real Teacher." Yes, those are real quotes from Real Teachers. I aspire to be a Real Teacher someday. Oh, someday.. Then there's the not being acknowledged factor. Also huge for me. I feel like I could dance on my head and it would A) not be noticed B) someone would look and say condescendingly, "How nice." or C) I would get reprimanded for not dancing on my head correctly. I'm not someone who particularly likes walking down the hall and being ignored, or having a class or kids dropped off at my room and the teacher doesn't even acknowledge my presence. Maybe its me. Maybe I've got the problem?
And then there's My Room. Ah, yes, My Room gets capital letters because it is just that awe inspiring. Let's set the stage. My Room is next to a boy's bathroom used primarily by boys between the ages of 5 and 8. There is no ventilation in said bathroom, so it tends to smell like a combination of mold and piss. An especially nice smell in mid June. My Room is technically not a classroom at all, it is really a basement storage area that was converted into a "classroom" many years ago when the neighborhood population decided to not use birth control, like, ever. A picture is worth a thousand words, so here it is. My Room.

This is the wall of Patriotic songs. Because I actually teach them about our country! Holy Shit!


This is my desk and computer. These are important. It took my 4 years to get an actual desk. Prior to that I had a falling apart table with construction paper on top to cover the rust. It took me 7 years to get the computer. Yep, you did the math right, I just got it this year. Oh to be a Real Teacher...


These are the posters of concerts and performances we've done that I'm proud of. While few people notice, I have accomplished quite a bit in my time in The Black Hole.


This is my door. On the door I have created a collage of pictures of dogs that I have collected from various dog magazines. It makes me smile and it makes me happy. It also is a great thing to use when a kid is getting on my nerves, but not too too out of control. "Why don't you go over and count how many dogs are on my door." They actually do it.


This is the wall that's falling apart. As you can see, the craftmanship is really high quality, so why it would be falling apart I'm not sure. Nevertheless, the kids sit and pick at the paint and cement, which in turn makes a huge mess on the floor that the custodian always seems to forget about. Once, a kid actually pulled a rock off there. A rock a little smaller than a tennis ball. Yes, seriously.


This is the mold that lives behind my stereo. Isn't it pretty? Going forward, I think I will call it Goldie Moldy.


This is what keeps me sane, despite The Black Hole and My Room. (I say "sane", of course, very loosely)


And this too, of course.