Hot stuff, baby.

Listening to: The Alan Parsons Project - I Wouldn't Want to Be Like You

The job started. Yay!

Basically, I roll in at 2:30, arrange snacks, napkins/straws, and placemats. The kiddies (k-6) come in around 3, and munch away until 4. I've apparently developed a fanclub for my ability to raise a single eyebrow (somewhat interesting sidenote: back in high school, Dr. Lipnick always said with a sarcastic smile that I was supercilious. I looked up the word... sure enough, it translates directly from latin. "One who raises an eyebrow"). At 4, the kidlets file off into their class groups. I tag around with 210, the kindergartners and some first graders. All very cute, albeit with some incomprehensible first names involved.

Some of the kids are very well behaved. Others, not. What I love about this place, though, is that unlike the constant coddling atmosphere of Breezemont, where even the most snot-nosed punk of a kid, who shoves people, whines, and never listens to anyone is still "an angel," here, the kids get ignored if they're bad, yelled at if they're really bad, and "in serious trouble" if they hit, curse, or anything like that. Not just "now, sweetie, we don't hit." No, here it's "DON'T YOU DARE HIT HIM."

Plus... it looks like I might have a nice (holycrappaying!) job in the fall, teaching language arts to GED students. I really hope I can make this work. A real teaching job... wow.