I've never been one to give up in my entire life, but there is a first time for everything. This subbing position has officially given me a run for my money so badly that today I am calling it quits come Friday. While the money is great for being a long-term sub, it isn't even fun to come to work every day. Since the first day of school, I have been hit with rulers, markers, bodies, hurtful words, and everything under the sun that just makes it impossible to get out of bed in the morning. My last day was almost when I walked out of the building last Thursday after being slammed into my door for not letting a student leave early. I packed all of my decorations and belongings and took them home with me and took a personal day Friday. I strongly considered not coming back at all, but I left my computer charger in my classroom and an $80 charger was worth coming back for. So I pondered over the weekend and decided to stop being a wimp, stick it out for the last 31 days of school until Christmas break. But now, it is Tuesday and I'm using my prep period to calculate just how much money I will miss out on if I switch to a daily substitute instead of long-term in the same classroom. I am physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted and all this classroom has made me think about in the past few weeks is if I made a huge decision in switching careers to counseling. I know I am not cut out to be a teacher, I never signed up to be a teacher, I just needed something flexible to get me through the next two years of my degree and this was it. Teaching is not easy, I never said it was, but this placement is a whole new level of hard.
I have some wonderful kids, don't get me wrong. My first period Art History class is wonderful. The kids love my projects and ask me for challenges. I have gotten to know them on a personal level, what they want to be when they grow up, and they know me on a personal level, and what I want to be when I grow up (lol.). So my day starts off decent every day, but naturally the bad outweighs the good because when I have to deal with second period which has 33 kids and no aide, I barely come out alive. I started the year with a 5 gallon bucket full of markers, today I have about 50 markers left in total because they throw them, steal them, break them. I get that these kids come from a rough home life, and I get that they are going through struggles that I will never understand. But what I don't get is how they can't want better for themselves and treat others, teachers, with respect. As easy as it is to say from the outside "it's only 30 more days, tough it out", 30 more days sounds like four more years to me. These kids have made it not even enjoyable to come to class. The thought of spending my free time on weekends to come up with new and exciting lessons, grade their papers, and make worksheets just to come to school and have them call me stupid because "I lost their work that they swear they turned in", is freaking EXHAUSTING.
So yes, I am giving up and I am proud to say it. Friday will be my last day in this classroom and I am counting down the seconds. I can no longer pull myself up and out of bed in the mornings to come here and wonder what crisis is going to happen next. To my good students, I hope that you challenge yourself and do better and get out of West Philly. And to everyone else, I hope that you raise your children to be better than you because God Bless the future teachers that have to deal with mini versions of these kids someday. And lastly to the next art teacher that takes my place, good freaking luck.
Peace out, Sayre ✌🏼
It has taken me weeks of editing to figure out exactly what I wanted to say in this post. 2018 has brought me some of the toughest struggles I have had to overcome so far. If you've followed my blog since the start, you already know that losing my job was just the beginning. Since then, although there has been positivity of course, it seems to have been the year of struggles back to back to back. Today, I'm here to open up to the internet about one of the biggest struggles I've had to deal with this year...
Back in February, shortly after I was wrongfully fired from my job, I was given another hurdle to overcome. At my annual women's health visit, I was diagnosed with HPV, or Human Papilloma Virus. Now first, I'd like to educate my readers by saying that yes, while HPV is technically a sexually transmitted infection, it is also so common that it affects over 80% of women at some point in their lives. At first, I didn't really understand what HPV was, and so I educated myself and now I am here to educate you. Quite possibly the most annoying thing about HPV is that it has little to no impact on men, but for women, it leads to cervical cancer if left untreated. Yet another thing that women get the shit end of the stick on... As if that isn't the worst of it, THERE IS NO TEST FOR MEN. You read that right, currently there is no test for men to diagnose whether or not they have HPV. So for all you male-readers out there, for the foreseeable future you will never know if you have HPV that you are spreading to women out there.. Typical.
Next, I would like to say that I am not embarrassed in the slightest to go on the internet and share my (literal) deepest viral struggles because to me, I'd rather educate other women before it's too late for them. I've had to endure some of the most painful procedures over the past six months that have made me very, very open about my diagnosis. While my journey to remain cancer-free is still a long way to go, I am optimistic about my future and keeping my health in check. Today, I want to take a moment to encourage all my female-readers to keep up with your annual exams. HPV is virtually undetected without a Pap and you could go months or years without ever knowing you are infected. If you do have HPV, stay on top of six month exams to ensure that you are monitoring the infection to prevent the pre-cancerous cells from turning into cancer. This is just one more hurdle of 2018 that I need to overcome, and I am on the road to do just that. To me, HPV doesn't make someone "dirty" or "infectious". It can happen to anyone, at any age.
Perhaps I should have gotten the Gardasil shot in my teens to help prevent HPV, but it is just that, a prevention. I know girls who have gotten the shot and still have gotten HPV. There is no cure, there is only prevention and monitoring. So for now, I just have to stay positive and monitor with six month check ups to make sure the infection remains an infection and doesn't develop further to become cervical cancer. For those of you reading that may have or have had HPV and understand what I am going through, thank you, and for those of you that don't, I hope you never have to. Be safe while having sex (sorry mom) and don't be ashamed of an HPV diagnosis because women are strong and that is why God made it so that HPV affects us and not men. Together we can pray for a day that HPV will have a cure, but until then, women can fight this, one cervix at a time.
Every good story starts with "three months ago at the bar......" and this one is no exception.
Three months ago at the bar, sitting at a table by the entrance with my friends, a few boys wandered over to talk with us. So meaningless that I don't even remember the start of the conversation, but it somehow came up that I have an incredible memory when it comes to addresses and numbers. Like so good that I can tell you my elementary school best friends home phone number and I haven't dialed it since 2005. Or so good that I remember the numbers on 5 out of 7 of the credit cards in the wallet. When it comes to numbers, my memory is really that good. (On other things though... it slacks off just a little).
So when we were talking with these guys and the topic came up, Henry bet me I couldn't memorize his license. Twenty minutes later, I could still tell him the seven digit number on his PA license and his birthday and now four months later I can tell you he lives on 11 *** Ln. in M*****n Pa, *****. So two days later, I wrote him a letter because I never got his number and I thought that it would be funny. I never heard back and I sort of just wrote it off.
Fast forward to Saturday and I was casually cleaning my house with my roommates when I popped out to the mailbox. I started sifting through and throwing the coupons right into the recycle when I saw a hand written letter addressed to me. I thought to myself "Who the hell is Henry?" when it dawned on me. Henry wrote me a letter to tell me that the address on the license was actually his parents and it went into a pile that he just now opened in September. I cracked up reading it thinking that I forgot Henry existed until this moment and now I had a letter written to me for the first time since my high school boyfriend Corey's love letter Junior year... So this time Henry gave me his number so that I wouldn't have to spend another four months trying to track him down at his new place. I texted him on Saturday when I opened up the letter but two days later and I haven't gotten a message back. Maybe it's because his letter took 10 days to arrive according to the post mark so he is being suspenseful, or maybe I'll hear from him in another four months ready to take me out for the burgers he promised in the letter.
So Henry Shoe-Pizza (Phonetical spelling of his foreign last name that I had no idea how to comprehend off of the license), if you've somehow managed to track down my social media (because I can't seem to find you on anything) and you're reading this blog, then you can just assume this to be the second letter I'm sending to you. So let's get those burgers, okay?
Author - mallory
I've always lived a wild life, so here I am to document it for the world... be ready for some fun adventures, xoxo.