What you got in that Fanny Pack??

What you got in that fanny pack??

So many teachers at my school ROCK and work so hard it’s ridiculous. I am constantly impressed and amazed by what my colleagues are able to do with children and learn so much from the creative ways they work with their students. HOWEVER, (and you knew this was coming) there remain the few, lazy SOBs who make me want to scream regularly into my pillow. You don’t have to be a teacher to know what I’m talking about. You can picture that idiot who does absolutely nothing, makes no effort and somehow still has a job. Just take a moment…got them in your head?? Mmmmm, me too. Kind of makes you want to poke yourself in the eye, doesn’t it?

There’s this woman that I “work” with at school. I put work in quotations because allegedly she is supposed to push into classrooms and work with children who need extra support. However, after interacting with her for the last three years, I am not convinced that she actually does this. I believe that after three long years, she is still looking for the chapstick that she clearly has misplaced (dude, nobody’s lips should look like that) and may be potentially lost. There is NO WAY that she could be a real teacher. But I digress…

Seriously, you need to be able to picture this person before I continue. First off, she has some SERIOUSLY chapped lips, I mean the kind that actually make your lips hurt when you look at her. And she always has this very confused expression on her face like she’s not quite sure what she’s doing in a school building either. There is much hair tossing (don’t get me wrong friends, this is not a young woman by any stretch of the imagination…mom, I know you said respect my elders but c’mon, she’s a trainwreck!!!). Finally, we have the fanny pack. Fanny pack ?? Yes, I said fanny pack. And not a I’m-trying-to-make-a-functional-fashion-statement fanny packs. A hideous primary colored nylon fanny pack with the oh-so-sexy black plastic clippy thing. Need I say more? Let’s call her Ms. Chapped Ass Fanny Pack, shall we? Has a nice ring to it…

Last year I had the “pleasure” (again, notice the quotations…they are NO accident friends) of having this woman “work” with my students in my classroom. Kind of a tandem-teaching situation. In reality, it was one huge cluster fuck (pardon my French…)

Ok, so every painful afternoon she comes skulking into my classroom, at least ten minutes late. I am guessing that her lateness stems from the fact that despite my name being posted in eight inch high black letters outside my classroom door (I just got married and changed my name…just learn it people!!), she remains confused as to where she I actually am between the hours of 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. Oh, and may I also note here that EVERY OTHER teacher in the hallway has her name posted outside of her door in similar large letters. Yes, I can see how that might be confusing.

Anyhoo, day after day, she sits in the back of my classroom, still unable to confidently identify the twelve children she is supposed to work with (seriously, I only have 18 students, it’s like fish in a barrel sister!!) As she stumbles from desk to desk diligently undoing the teaching I have done that day, I become increasingly aware of the Fanny Pack sitting on my back table. Hmmmmm, I think, it’s just sitting there…just open it. Don’t be such a pussy!! What is in that thing anyway? It’s definitely not chapstick. Mints? Maybe something random like a coconut? Or a whole bunch of condoms….ewwwwwww!!!! I just totally grossed myself out. I hate to admit it, but I’m DYING to know what she keeps in that thing.

Well mom, you’ll be happy to know that I have yet to rip open the Fanny Pack and sneak a peek. But next year is a new year and I’ll have 180 fine opportunities to solve the mystery. That is, if she can find my classroom next year…

I’ll keep you posted.