I ought to start a new Xanga, one which is purely for my work-related gripes. I fear that this Xanga will become nothing but a ‘i-hate-the-place-where-i-work’ rubbish bin this term. Ok, so that isn’t strictly true, I don’t hate the place where I work. I dislike the TwoFacedBitch who’s my boss, and I’m vehemently opposed to what she does and what she stands for, not to mention the way she treats most of her staff and some of the students. But I suppose the ‘i-hate-the-place-where-i-work’ statement is quicker to say.
There are certain aspects of my job that I have thoroughly enjoyed this week. Laminating has provided me with the opportunity to drift off into deep daydreams that involve me being elsewhere, with other people, away from the green carpets and noisy children, who aren’t actually children and get all huffy when called children. Photocopying has done the same. Being a gossiping bitch has passed the time. Joking around with other staff members has been relationship forging. I calmed down one student and wrestled scissors off another. I feigned sympathy for the student who was moody because she hadn’t had her daily dose of smokable drug. I snapped at another member of staff because I was fed up with her stupid, silly little comments. I managed to miss the tea throwing incident though, which was a bit of a bugger.
It isn’t any of the above that bugs me. I can cope with stroppy members of staff, ignorant teenagers, mind-numbing tasks, playing Uno till the cows come home, watching the same film over and over and over and over and over again, being sworn at, sorting out other people’s messes, creating worksheets, researching topics, planning my own teaching, helping others … I just can’t cope with not being allowed a real child-free/work-free break [that I’m supposed to have when one works out hours I get paid for and hours I actually work] and being pulled this way and that way, over the rainbow and backwards through the hedge … I’ve been advised by a friend that I shouldn’t work quite so hard or quite so quick. Pffft …
At least tomorrow we’re free of the dastardly TwoFacedBitch and her no-people-skills tongue.
Oh, and you may well be proud of me. Little Miss UnAssertive became Miss Assertive, ever-so briefly, on the bus on Tuesday. Yep, I told a ChavTeen off for playing his music without headphones. I felt so old … but he deserved it because I couldn’t hear my music, which was much better than his. He argued back so I put him in his place. Sometimes it pays to work with teenagers …
please God bless the end of the week xxx Elsabeth