Free at last...well, sort of...

So, it's almost official. The letter is all typed up and ready to be turned in. I feel great. I mean, sas great as one can feel when they are putting in a letter of resignation but still have to technically "work" for two more months. Especially these last two months. For those of you unfamilar with the special education situation, these last months of school are dedicated to the art of doing massive amounts of paperwork. Once the massive amount of paperwork is completed, we have to provide the packs to other special education teachers to read and then we have to hold meetings with the parents of the kids of which the paperwork is written. It's a wonderfully excellent way to spend the day on top of trying to teach the scrawny bastards how to read and write or act appropriately in society. This week is by far the best. The kids are taking one of those standardized test things, like the ones we used to take in school. You know, the ones that you spend a whole week having to do and mean absolutely nothing to your academic future? As a special education teacher, I get the honor of reading that whole bloody test to a handful...10 to be exact...students who really could care less if I were reading the test to them or not. I am really just reading it to myself. By the end of the period, I am tired...they are tired...absolutely nothing is going to get done...and it doesn't. I absolutely do not give one monkey's crack what they do. If they want to do crossword puzzles all day...I'm cool with that. Want to play games...No problemo. The general education have time to teach extravagent lessons on the life cycle of a tree or what war happened in 1812. They have had two hours to do nothing. They are well-rested...I am not. And still they have complaints about this, that, or the other. The gifted teacher came to me yesterday to tell me she heard that I was not returning. Of course, I inquired as to how she found out this information since I have never said more than two words to this lady the whole three years I have been working here. She asked me if I was just that unhappy here...blah, blah, blah. I just looked at her with the same expression I look at most of my kids with....that blank "what the hell are you talking to me for because I honestly do not give a crap" look. Of course, she would stay here until they school burned down because she is the gifted teacher. Her kids are the future doctors and lawyers and such. She gets the nice big room and all the resources she needs. I have to beg, borrow, steal, and often threaten to get anything for my kids. So, hells nah, I am not happy here. I guess what they say is true...the longer you work with a certain population, the more you become one of them.