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  • » Name: Donwill
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Pocket Change

If you are at work on a Friday and need the time to pass...


April 20, 2007 | Tags: none

go here: www.tard-blog.com.



For all you internet frequenters late pass me if you want but i promise if you reread this shit you would be has happy as the day you found it. Granted its kinda fucked up that this woman is calling these mentally challenged kids 'tards' the stories of her day to day life in the classroom are priceless. I can appreciate the rigor of a school teachers day seeing as how ive spent roughly between 2-3 years working as a school teacher, and in a weird way this blog kinda makes me miss that job. Shout out to J-Live, J-Rawls, Spectac and any other of my field of eduaction brethern (although i didnt go to school for teaching, i just got a job doing it) But all polically correctness aside this shit is high comedy and it still has a human aspect to it. Oh yeah and she is from cincinnati...



Exerpt 1:



On our field trip this morning, one of the reetees spotted a birds nest in a big bush. The whole gang tweeted. I cleared some branches out so the kids could take a closer look. There was one little egg in the nest. The kids were in awe. Especially when Jamel, my little Sudanese SBD child asks if he can touch the egg. I let him. He picks the egg up out of the basket and crushes it in his hand. At this, some kids are crying, others are wanting to see the inside. Jamel fucking licks the shit out of his fucking hand, then throws the shell on the ground, and smashes it profusely with his feet.

This is only one of many things that has occurred today. I am in my room, waiting for my 11:00 group to show up for math. It is 11:09, I begin to wonder where they are. Then I remind myself that they are retarded, and stop wondering.



*Later on the same day*



Today, we sit in a circle and everyone tells what they liked most about the said field trip. Now, this is my barely functioning group, kids with IQ's of 18 month old babies. Most of the kids only use one word for their answer (rocks, mud, stick, etc.) usually they will just say another students name and that's it. Today's answers were a bit different.



Me: "Emmy, what was the part of the outing you liked the best?"
Emmy: "Boots, mine" (She sticks her leg in the air to showcase her big ass yellow moon boots with fur on top).
Me: "I need everyone's eyes up here looking at me. Thank you. Now, Emmy really liked being able to wear her boots on our field trip. Jamel, what was the part of the outing that you liked best?"
Jamel: "Eat birds."



Only two of the other kids understand this. One starts to cry and the other gets up, runs to the sink, turns on the water, and sticks his head under the faucet.



And it's only 12:30 p.m.



Exerpt 2:

I laughed at this one huge fat kid because he all the sudden started smelling like shit. He had literally shit his pants, right there in the classroom. Riti hits the intercom button.

The response is some lady who says "Yes, office?"
Riti says this only "We have a code brown."
The lady says "I will send down the principal and the janitor."

I no longer was able to contain my laughter. THEY HAD A SYSTEM SET UP TO DEAL WITH THE SHITTY FAT KID! I started to laugh uncontrollably loud.

At this, the fat kid becomes mad and charges me, knocks me into a bookcase and the bookcase falls over and all the books fall out, and he lands on top of me, in the middle of all these books all over the floor. He was so huge that the impact of him landing on me knocks the breath out of me and breaks my hand.



NO SHIT--HE BROKE MY FUCKING HAND!

Now I am not a small man, nor a wimp, and at 6'4, 200 lbs, I figured I was safe around the tards. But the kid was so big that he broke my hand and scratched up my neck and side.

Mentally picture this image: bookshelf down, little tard books scattered everywhere, me in the middle of them with a fat tard on top of me, the principal and janitor are at the door, AND RITI CONTINUES TEACHING! AS IF NOTHING AT ALL HAD HAPPENED!!

Finally I throw the tard off of me, and I see the diarrhea all over the ass of his huge, tent-size sweatpants. That image, combined with the intense shit smell, caused me to vomit on the floor.

Later, I am sitting in a tiny little chair, made for someone 1/4 my size, with my hand throbbing and the taste of vomit in my mouth. All Riti does is look at me and say, "I knew you couldn't handle this. Real good AJ, real good," and then continues to teach. Her and all of the kids acted as if nothing had happened, with me sitting in my midget chair, nursing my broken hand, faintly smelling of tard crap, and feeling like the biggest tard in the room.



...fucking awesome yo...


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