Ya Esta. (I've had it)

Day 16


I am the eye of the storm.

An island of tranquility. Buddha’s soul sister. The crouching tiger. The bonsai tree. The Zen garden. Nirvana incarnate. I’m like a plucked hen, you can’t ruffle my feathers.

I’ve reached this wildly popular and greatly desired place of peacefulness more or less by avoiding all possible encounters involving conflict and sly tactics of passive aggressiveness. The pen is mightier than the sword, but the sarcastic tongue slays all. All this is to say I’ve come to my Zen state by the back door. I did not conquer any other overwhelming passions of anger, wrath, greed, desire or lust, but rather said, yes yes those are nice, but let’s get to the point – Om. But why would my backward path matter? Let me ask a question first, how many of you have seen me mad, really mad? I should only see 4 hands raised (ahem, Katie Riedel family). I’ve managed to stay a cool cucumber, which has done wonders for my cortisol levels, but has left me like a sleeper bomb, ready to explode at any minute because my anger centers haven’t been deactivated. So today, when the class 4th grade B pushed me to my last nerves, I was lock jaw mad, I had stopped breathing and instead began to steam through my head I was so hot with anger. They rapscallions refused to sit and listen, despite my ardent commands in English and Spanish. What energy wasn’t directed at not screaming at them was used to keep me from running out of the classroom, throwing my hands in the air and saying, “it’s all for not! These children can NOT be taught!!” my thoughts were haywire and as I slammed my laptop shut, ending the presentation I was doing I stood up, legs like a race track with adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Sit down. Be quiet. NOW!” finally caught their attention. I had had it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been this mad. Devils, all of them. In that moment I could have sworn that I was never that bad in 4th grade, that no American child was that bad. (Mom, now is not the time to beg to differ ;) They only serve to intensify the mockery I feel most days I come to teach. Their disrespect echoes in the words they yell, stifling my demands for silence in apathetic chaos. A final shot is fired from my mouth, “SILENCE.” And with that I walk out of the classroom. I’ve had it with the head teacher being “too busy” to teach her own class. I’m not even allowed to be left alone in the classroom, but as I was waiting and waiting for the head teacher to show up I thought, what the heck, I can teach 1 class, at least! How wrong I was. Fleeing to find the only other woman in the building who gets shit done, if you excuse my French, I knocked on Gema’s door and said, “Una preguntita, ahora mismo, por favor.” She scampered out because I’m sure the flush of wrath upon my face is a sight to be seen. Explaining the straights I was caught in she immediately began to walk down the hall with the assuredness of a mother who is off to find her child who’s done wrong. For some reason I think the phrase, “Oh no they dinnit” (say it fast and angry) is fitting here.

And who would we find standing in front of the class asking where Senorita Katie is – only the head teacher who I was supposed to be team-teaching with. Flashing apologetic eyes to Gema and small gracias’s I approached the newly appeared teacher. She dared to ask how they had behaving, tacking on the admonishment “bien, sí?” I gave her my infamous passive aggressive smile and with the grin of a jackal said, “Oh no no no. Son Horrrrribles”, rolling my ‘r’ like a tidal wave of anger. And then socking a passive aggressive response back to my side, she said, “Well, you only have 10 more minutes, yes? Perhaps you can finish up and hopefully they’ll be better.” Sinking into a deep breath, drawing up that Zen bullshit I say I believe, I said with subtle cynicism, “Well, sure. Of course. That sounds great.” She gave a parting “callénse” (quiet quiet!) and fled off to more important administrative things. (Granted this is a public school, but don’t you parents sleep better at night knowing the state hires only the best of teachers, dedicated to your child, respectful of the tax dollars you pay?) Perhaps we should examine the selection process or pay our overworked and underappreciated teachers more money so they actually have an incentive, if the incentive to help kids is not enough, to do the work their post requires.

Rather upset with myself for not having cultivated my powers of invisibility or apparition, I was stuck with more or less 25 pairs of dis-interested eyes looking in my direction or elsewhere in ADD. Suddenly in a caustic smile I said, “Well, since you don’t want to respect me, I will make you do something boring.” All in English, till I could gather my calm. Then I said it in Spanish. And we made Halloween cards. That’s right, haunted house, spiders, zombies, full moons; I made them draw it all. I was so tempted to make them copy the line “Katie Riedel has suffered a flagrant affront to her character. I, ______ (Name of student) _____, shall immediately rectify my insidious comportment of late by kissing the ground she walks on, being thus preoccupied with kissing the ground, incapable of emitting trite interruptions and subsequently mocking her still tenuous position in the classroom because even the mango is not as wonderful as she. I sincerely apologize.” I figured they’d complain of hand cramps in 1 minute if we did this. So scrapped it.

The rest of the day passed as a water bug skims over a lake. It was a breeze. It was punctuated by silly moments of pronunciation mishaps; “pumpkin” is said “pooompkin.” And I sigh into a smile, ‘bien bien” because at least they care to try.

I think it’s good to have days like this one. I might find myself seated on a precariously high horse if I wasn’t humbled every now and then by the hooligans. But what I really want to ask Spain is, “When does rookie imitation end?” It’s fine by me if you want to b e nice now, promise I won’t tell anybody. “ :)

Sending you a calm “Om”

Lovingly missing my quiet ones, woo