Archive for the ‘Sobbing’ Category

Not To Complain But…..


It’s been a long week.

It went something like this:

Hello I ‘m here to-

Room 22. Here are your keys.

Uh thanks.

(Shuffle, Shuffle, click. Science??? This is supposed to be English. Darn.) Hmmm. Lesson plans, lesson plans. (I rifle the desk and look through the file cabinets which I’ve mentioned before I really hate doing.) Uh, where are the lesson plans????

Teacher from next door comes in. “Yeah Mrs. — was called away suddenly. Did she leave any lesson plans?”


“Oh, well I’ll see what I can come up with” she says running for the door as students begin to flood the classroom.

Oh dear, think think, think. (doing my Winnie the Pooh impression)

That was Monday.

Tuesday I was a Temporary Librarian.

HI I’m your-

Could you make copies of these and then I’ll tell you what you’re doing today.

Then she forgot to tell me what she wanted done. My job was to stand behind the desk and use my angry giantess superpowers to look imposing as students filed past to get their textbooks. “Grrrr, you evil students. Shhh, quit, this is a Library. Stop molesting the dictionary. What on earth are you doing to that book???” That’s right, I got paid to be a book bodyguard.

Thursday? Oh Thursday.

Two schools. One day.

School one.

Volunteers to read. How about you?

I don’t know how to read. (class laughs, until I give them THE LOOK)

Really. (Checking the class schedule) Is this not the honors class?

Yes but I can’t read. (class snickers)

That’s very sad. Maybe you should go to East office and let them know so they can put you in a different class.

Never mind

Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.

I can read it.

Oh well, you know what, let”s get someone else for now and I’ll let Mrs. — know you have trouble with reading.

Bitch, I hate you.

School Two:

Hi I’m-

Resource room upstairs end of the hall. And you’re late.

Sorry about that, I was coming from another school. I did call.

Mrs— is still there so maybe you can catch her before she leaves.


Hi I’m-

Here are the lesson plans. watch out for K and I, have a great day. ( I think her high heels actually left skid marks as she raced for the exit.)

Students come in.

Hello. Mrs — isn’t here today. My name is Dogwoman and I’ll be helping you during her absence. Please get out your workbooks and I’ll come around and help-

Reading charts go flying as one student becomes upset. Next the book cart, three chairs and a math book that hits me in the back. Don’t worry, it was soft cover. When I called the office to have the student removed this was their reply

Oh, yeah, K,. The teachers next door can help. click.

Whaa..????? ( Now he’s screaming, flipping me off and using language reserved for Ice Road Truckers.)

Three teachers materialize and start talking to him like he’s a rabid dog they don’t want to get to close to. He hides in the media cabinet. Two other students begin fighting over who gets to use the computers first.

Eventually, three of the six students I started with have to be removed.

Later, they come back and it’s like nothing happened. Perfect gentlemen, every one of them. Gahhhh!

In my car on the way home I think about intense drug therapy and how it can be beneficial in these situations. No, not for the students, for me. I think a heroin script would really do the trick and I might mention it to my doctor next time I see her. Because, clearly, the vodka is not working.





Poo is not the only thing that gets picked up in New York. According to this article a dog was sucked in to a street cleaner and the only thing the Sanitation Department would say is that people need to watch their dogs more closely.

The owner was watching; as the machine swept up his pet into it’s bristles.

Note to Self : No dog walking in New York until the sun is up and the streets are empty.


Somebody Call The Waaahhbulance


I have to hand it to Obama, he is a man who knows how to use the Internet. In fact, I would say that the majority of actual campaigning has gone on in the virtual world.

He now has a website¬† completely separate from his other websites. This site exists solely to kill off damning rumors made by the opposition and other people who may not be fond. Including those rumors about his wife and whether or not she may have at one time or another said the word ‘whitey’. That little gem, if I remember correctly, was started by Rush “eh? speak up I ruined my hearing with opiates ” Limbaugh. A man who has probably used the n word in mixed company more than once.

However, it seems like whining to me to have an entire page of rebuttals of ridiculous rumors set forth by men with no conscience. It is better to ignore such foolishness. The Republicans have a great machine that spews out lies like Angelina Jolie collects children. And like Jolies’ rush toward overpopulating the earth, no one is paying any attention except those who have nothing better to do.

I long for the old days when candidates didn’t respond to every single bullshit rumor set forth by the mobster mentality of the other party. Now such responses are the norm and it is boring. And distracting. It distracts from the real issues. Issues the American People would like to see addressed in the here and now.

So my advice to the Obama campaign is simple:

Quit yer bitchin’ and get on with it already. Say something of importance to the American People¬† or shut up.



When Bad Agencies Go Worse


Assholes, Douche Bags and Jerks. Oh my!

Somehow, I don’t think the “Rut Row Raggy” defense is going to work this time.

Feel free to send them outraged e-mails with lots of swearing.



The Secret Lives Of Substitutes


I should be gathering lesson plans for class but I’d rather talk to you.

When I started this blog there were things I wasn’t going to discuss, like my job. Well I’ve broken that rule a few times. Many people snicker or make a funny face when I tell them what I do. And they all say they feel sorry for me. Screw you. I like my job.

Today I am going to give a play by play as to how a Substitute Teacher Operates. Functions may vary from state to state. Certainly, the pay does.

5:00 am-10:00am

Bring bring


This is the—— School District Substitute Management System calling for Dogwoman

*It’s an automated system*

We have a Substitute Position available. To hear the job press 1


Now the system tells me the school, the teacher, the subject and the time. I have 30 seconds to decide: If I want to teach at that school for that teacher in that subject at that time. Lets pretend I do.


Job Number 111111 has been assigned to you. Please write down this number as it may be requested upon your arrival. click.

No thank you, no have nice day, just click. And the schools never ask for the job number. Ever. They ask for my name and the name of the Teacher I am subbing for. And woe betide me should I forget the teachers name. I write it down in my little book of horrors assignments.

Now I dress in my uniform of black clothing standard to all substitutes. This can be as fashionable or unfashionable as the individual chooses. See we need to fade into the background.

Now I gather up everything I’ll need. Lunch, lesson plans, review sheets, pencils, rubber bands, paper clips, extra paper, mints, pens , hilighters, dry erase markers, post it notes , hall pass, treats, prizes, stickers, xanax, vodka, taser.( Just kidding. The taser is too big for my bag.) Rule number one for Subs: Never use the Teachers supplies. This is carved in stone somewhere.

Get in car. Check for gas and write down milage. Drive to the school. If it’s a new school, Mapquest it and drive past the school three times just to be sure. Or because I turned left when I should have turned right. Try to find the Staff parking lot. More hilarity ensues as I find I have gone in the wrong drive. Twice.

Go in the FRONT door. The Staff door is only for staff, which I am not. I must walk around the building to the main door. Sometime this is a three mile hike in heels. Once inside, I report to the main office and this where it gets tricky.

In the office sits the most important person in a Subs life. I think of them as the Gatekeeper. They are in fact the Administrative Assistant and they control my day. Everything I am going to do in the building is decided by the Gatekeeper. If they need me in another class other than the one I signed up for, the Gatekeeper tells me. They give me my attendance sheets and my keys. They tell me where the staff lounge is and sometimes where the bathroom is. If the Gatekeeper is having a bad day, so am I. If the Gatekeeper doesn’t like me, oh dear. Mostly they are helpful and kind. Occasionally, they are bitter and rude. I smile anyway.

I say hello to everyone I pass in the hall: janitors, librarians, students, on my way to class. I might need them later and there is no point in making enemies before I have to.

Once inside the class I turn on the lights and start the hunt. I am looking for the lesson plans.They could be on the desk, they could be in the mailbox, they could be non-existent. Once I locate them I read them as I walk around the room. I note where everything is, what rules are posted on the walls, students names if they are on the desks. I now have to find all of the materials listed on the plans. I like it best when the teacher leaves everything in plain view. That way I don’t have to rifle through their things. I hate that.

When students arrive I do one of two things depending on the grade level. I either occupy myself as they filter in or I stand outside the door with a menacing look on my face.

Once class starts I give the students The Speech. I tell them my name, what I expect and what we will be covering. This is by rote. What I am really doing is noting the students who are going to be trouble and formulating a plan to neutralize them. I am also noting the student who could be helpful later. Now you know, Subs have an opinion of students by the time they are in their seats. During Speech time, that opinion is either solidified or dispelled. It just depends on the students.

Lessons start. This is the bulk of my day. It requires me to field complaints, questions, emergencies, drinks, bathroom breaks, interruptions, office calls and discipline. All while getting the lesson plans completed. This is teaching. The part I like.

However, once students hear the word substitute it translates for them in to the word “Vacation”. I don’t know why, just does. And lo, if I happen to know the teacher and have had a lengthy conversation with them, the students get surly. One teacher told me that I would want a stiff drink at the end of a day with her students. She was right. Classroom management takes up a lot of the Subs time. My favorite student complaint starts with “Our teacher doesn’t …” I respond “Am I your regular teacher, No? Okay let’s do it my way instead, it might be fun.” It’s not, but they are usually half way through before this dawns on them.

I get 25-30 minutes for lunch. I use this time to sob quietly. And for taking the xanax washing it down with the vodka. Just kidding. I go over the plans for the afternoon. Subs avoid being seen doing anything human like eating, drinking or urinating. We do it on the sly when no one is looking.

By the end of the day, if I have successfully completed my assignment, all of the students are happily running for the bus and the room is a mess. I take time to put the room back together, pushing in chairs, picking things off the floor. The class needs to look exactly like it did when I walked in. I write a note detailing the day for the teacher, turn off the lights and check out with the Gatekeeper.

I get a sherpa, hike back to my car and head home.

That’s when I take the xanax and the vodka while sobbing. Usually there are students names included as I swig away at the bottle. Sob, D’Quis, sob, swig, Jamilla, Sob, sob, swig, zach, wail swig swig. Once I’m drunk enough I collapse into bed.

In reality, I love what I do. It doesn’t pay much, the students are disrespectful and demanding, I have forced unpaid vacations. Yet, there are rare moments when a student will say those magic words all teachers live to hear “Oh, I get it…” And that is why I keep picking up the phone at 5:00 am.

Dogwoman Continue reading


Confuse To Conquer


I just looked at the clock and realized with horror that I have been reading the news for three hours. Three hours.

Here’s what I learned in that time:

Obama is a Democratic God.

Obama is going to ruin our country.

Clinton should throw in the towel.

Clinton should fight on.

The new Iraqi surge is working.

America is losing the fight in Iraq.

Iraq Vets hate Bush.

The GOP hates Bush.

Everyone hates Bush.

America is a neo-fascist country being driven into the ground by bad economic policies.

Germany is sponsoring a body painting party.

Today we should all observe Earth Hour by shutting off our lights at 8pm.

Teachers keep having sex with students.

Starbucks doesn’t have to comply with court orders.

Neither does any White House Aide.

Regular news outlets are trolling blogs for news because it’s cheaper than sending a correspondent.

and Grey Wolves are off the endangered list…for now.

And the only thing I found interesting or newsworthy was the German Body Painting story.

I want to go to a body painting party. With the lights off for an hour as Grey wolves roam restlessly about looking for a correspondent to complain to about George Bush and his fascist policies while Clinton hands out towels to Obama who is.. spilling his Starbucks coffee… on the teachers having sex with students….while avoiding court orders….. Wait

Sigh. I’m confused.

Does anyone out there have any idea what the hell is going on??????



Three in One


Dear Vice President Dick Cheney,

Thank you for your kind words about the soldiers serving in Iraq on the news that we have now lost 4,000 men and women. You are absolutely right, they did volunteer. So did you. And the only action you’ve seen so far is shooting your friend in the face while hunting maimed birds. Perhaps a three year tour of that sandy hell hole would give your tired old ass a wake up call. Just a thought.



Dear President Bush,

Please stop talking. Every time you open your mouth something incomprehensible and slightly scary comes out. We the People of the United States would like you to convert to Buddhism and take a vow of silence for the next 10 months.



Dear Pat Buchanan ,

Black people across America would like to thank you for really getting to the root of the civil rights movement. With comments like your recent ones stating how grateful they should be that White landowners rounded them up like cattle and shipped them across the ocean like abused sardines, I’m sure there won’t be any backlash.

Are you stuck in a time warp, you cretin?

Honestly, why do these things just creep out of your mouth ? African- Americans are not the only group of people on welfare, using Pell grants or benefiting from state run programs to help the poor. Like Ice Pops, poor people come in all flavors and none of them are grateful to be poor. In fact, they are a bit pissed off. And waiting outside your fancy office. With torches and pitch forks.

Gee, I wonder what they want?