Id Like To Share Something Very Special To Me With You All, So Please Dont Laugh. I Wanna Talk To You

I’d like to share something very special to me with you all, so please don’t laugh. I wanna talk to you from a profession that takes a lot of shit and gets very little respect.

See, I’m a teacher. I teach middle school—drama and English, though luckily I’ve wiggled back out of core and into electives where I belong. It’s a hard job and it’s often thankless, especially at this level, and as a new teacher it feels like I’m drowning every third day. Did you know almost half of all teachers quit before the first five years are up? That’s how bad it can be out here. The last guy who had my position lasted 6 months.

This is all to say, the thanks, the warm-fuzzies, they’re few and far between. And if you’re like me, in a thankless profession or the same one…I want you to start saving notes. Pictured below is one of my “feel better letters,” the first one I ever got from a student whose smile I still remember even at a different school in a different district. This kiddo would come by every day after classes to chat with me and another teacher—only missed a day if they were sick. I keep this one pinned above my light board. I really hope that kid is kicking high school’s ass—they deserve to.

The ones you reach as a teacher—the ones who think enough to reach back, to offer you this kind of affirmation—and also subordinates and bosses in other jobs—it makes the thankless days a little more survivable when you have a “feel better letter” in close proximity. I cry every time I read it, but it helps me remember why I wanted to teach at all. And I think everyone needs that, sometimes.

[ Dear Ms. (my last name),

I’ve had so much fun having you as a teacher this year! You’ve made my bad days better and made me smile + laugh, even when I would steal your candy ♥. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t crying while writing this lol. You are one of my favorite teachers and always will be. Even when we weren’t talking in your class, I love being there. I have so much fun doing the play as an actor and your AD (assistant director), so even though I’m going to high school I hope you don’t forget me as a student and as a person because I won’t forget you ♥.

Sincerely, (student name) ]

Yeah. The first nine months of every school year are really hard, but it gets easier after that!

-me on my job

The crest of a wave, by Montague Dawson (1895-1973)

@tatteredxsails is very patient and I am very dumb.

Anne considers this answer for a moment before shaking her head.

“That’s too many. Pick two—one f’r the each of ye—and I’ll see t’the rest.”

She’s been trying not to kill as much (it’s a long, hard road to try avoiding it), but this is a special circumstance. This is Ed. And his…future. Calling it quits feels odd on Ed, but she isn’t about to judge him. Not when she sometimes considers the same, would’ve done the same if there was a dick swinging between her legs to guarantee that future a wee bit better.

As things are, she’ll protect Ed’s right to it instead.

Anne nods, taking the information in with a hard glint to her eyes. She has no dreams of captaincy, nor has she ever. Anne Bonny will see herself a legend made, aye, but she hasn’t the disposition for leadership, devoid of tact and charm as she is. She doesn’t say this to Izzy, of course, preferring the man should think her ambitious and high-aiming rather than merely gunning to be number two. Anne has come to appreciate the role of the first mate, the flint and steel it requires, a role of leadership and authority blessedly free of diplomatic necessities. A thing she can do even now. A thing Israel Hands does every day. A thing he’s helping her fine-tune with few if any real complaints.

Cannons and guns aren’t the tools of Anne’s choice, but she can recognize the necessity in using them. She nods and squints towards the vessel herself, as if gauging the imaginary shot’s trajectory, her eye snagging on the mainmast.

“So a dumb shot’ll do it? No need f’r no smoke or mirrors, as it were?” Funny. She’d thought, given the theatrics of every captain she’s met to date, that there would be…more. Fire, an explosion, something. The answer felt almost too easy in comparison to the way she’d seen others go about it.

“If I wanted to fire a warning shot, how close would I have to aim for it to be effective?” (Anne learning a new skill from Izzy.)

The girl was young, and brighter than most. Girl was unfair to her. She was no more a girl than Izzy had been a boy at her age, already a fair hand aboard. Anne was willing to get in there and work hard. Willing to learn.

He squinted at the ship they were looking at in the distance. It wasn't a real target. Not yet, at least. But that didn't mean it couldn't act as a place holder for this conversation. Hypothetical ships could be good practice.

"Your crew'll know what to do, if you tell them to fire a warning shot. Shot across the bows. Used to be more common for the British to be that fucking specific about that sort of thing, but you have a lot of old Navy men turned pirate," Izzy tells her and moves to lean across the gunwale beside her. He points, "Right there. Gives the twats aboard time to get a white flag up."

Izzy dropped his hand, "If you can't get it across the bows, you want the shot close enough for them to get the message."

CON O'NEILL as Izzy Hands in OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH (2022— ) Episode 2.05