English Teachers - Tumblr Posts

That reminds me. Junior year of high school, we were reading Le Petit Prince in French class, and on the day we were supposed to discuss the ending, my grandmother (who was very sick) had just decided to stop taking sustenance from a feeding tube--meaning she was going to die in a matter of days, and by her own choosing (albeit from a very limited set of crappy options). I was behind, so I speed-read the ending of Le Petit Prince during class. It did not go well. I got to That Part, and it surprised the hell out of me, and I burst into tears (while the teacher was talking about something completely different, too, b/c I was reading under my desk). 

So I ran outside into the hallway and sat down on the tiles to sob all by myself. Then my favorite English teacher came by. She knew me pretty well - a couple of other kids and I hung out in her classroom during lunches and talked about homoerotic interpretations of American lit (as you do) - and even though she was pretty no-nonsense, I thought she might offer some compassion. 

So, she was like “what’s going on?” and I choked out something like “we were reading The Little Prince...and...and...” 

She nodded sagely and said “it’s the literature.” Kind of like ‘ah yes, we’ve all been there.’ And just walked on by.

I mean, that was pretty bad-ass. I felt a little resentful that she didn’t stay to figure out what was really going on, but now I can appreciate that her reaction to seeing someone sitting in a corridor crying over a book was that this was a perfectly reasonable and ordinary occurrence & no other explanation needed. That’s a good English teacher right there. 

SO I FINISHED UNSPOKEN TODAY

SO I’m basically dead

the whole I love you  and link cutting part… i just could not.

I COULD NOT

I read it in the few minutes I have in the band hall before class. Here’s how it went:

Me: *is standing and reading Unspoken* *reads aforementioned part*

Me: *actually screams* 

Band Kids: *look at me like I’m the crazy one (keep in mind these are BAND KIDS)*

Me: *curls up into a ball, clutching book to chest, falls on side*

Callie: Heyyyyy…are you okay?

Me: *is actually sobbing curled up in a ball on ground* YES!

Callie: *stares*

Me: NO!

Callie: *drags me to my feet and wrenches book out of hands*

Me: *hisses and grabs book back* *is still crying* *keeps reading anyways*

and my band director… the looks he gave me… and my section leader… and everyone really…

I was in physical, mental, and emotional pain after that book. I mean that wholeheartedly. My chest physically hurt. And my mind felt like I was having Jared or Kami’s mind removed from it. And my emotions…

okay. yup.

@sarahreesbrennan :

this is how you make me feel

How much I like a class depends entirely on how much I like the teacher. I love poetry and reading but if you give me a bad English teacher forget it. I will give you shards of the mirror that my soul is comprised of but never will you gaze upon me fully to see the distorted reflection of your tasks. To expect effort in the face of malcontent is both foolish and delusional.

Somebody save me from my ELA teacher

So I'm in ELA on Friday, and my ELA teacher is a gifted ELA teacher (although I'm fully convinced that the gifted program is just full of the mentally ill children that just so happen to work fast), and she teaches a lot of damn ages, like I think her youngest group of kids are like 8-9 rn. so basically my hour is right after she gets done with the 4th and 5th graders. the 4th and 5th graders being gen alpha. meaning she spends a good bit of time hearing brainrot because that's all they want to fucking talk about in school (idk how it is for u guys but you cant walk into a classroom for students under 6th grade without hearing brainrot at my school). she decided to ask us if her shirt was 'sigma' told us to not mind if she 'did a little mewing', and when my classmate showed up past the tardy bell, she said and I quote *couch cough* 'i think it's pretty skibidi that you're late [name]' I'm scared The teachers have been infected too We spent the whole class with our ears covered and our headphones on playing a video from a source we had for a fucking essay over and over again on our chromebooks. Send help

Listen. So I had been writing this short story/snippet of a longer fanfic that I hadn't posted online yet, and I am not writing it on my regular laptop. i'm writing it on a school computer. during this time, my friend looks over at my Google search that i had done, asked what other ones i had done before. i told him, he told me that I could get flagged. my may have overheard us talking and i didn't need to get a whole interrogation about my search history. Also, he wasn't even a credited teacher, he just had a degree in English and media studies, not a teaching certificate.