Queen Browser.

Rickita is 27 going on 18-45. She loves movies and dinners. She loves music. She loves HGTV. She loves to nap. She loves being alone. She loves the company of children and their genuine enthusiasm and sense of discovery. She loves having no clue. She loves text messaging. She loves fashion (she's secretly addicted to it). She loves day dreaming. She loves to read anything about African/African American people and their struggles/triumphs. She's learning to heal. The only science fiction she reads is by Octavia Butler. She wants to say that she cusses like a sailor, can't sit and eat at a table properly, is a talented burper. But in interest of her current employers finding this blog, she'll stick with....she loves education.

She's a teacher.

 And she thinks that if you don't read "Medical Apartheid", you're not living.

And if you don't finish Native Son, you're a loser. Kidding, because I haven't finished it yet...but I will some time next week. The point is, just read it.
Fri Nov 7

so today was the last day for grades. that meant i spent most of my time accommodating and modifying material for my sped students. i found some time to run to the hospital to visit one of my students and finally get her mom to sign off on this highly important legal document.

i was tempted to admit myself to the hospital. tell them that i was suffering from imburntoutlikeamothafuckaitis. while tempted to do just that, i opted out and instead held a pseudo iep meeting in the parking deck of children’s hospital.

i came back only to return to helping ro-ro pass this government final. jesus this child needs more support and her attitude doesn’t motivate me to help. i struggled through getting her to finish the government and history exams, but we did and she might just be alright.

part of being a teacher, especially a special ed teacher is having a life-long supply of patience. i mean patience to stand the students who take 7 minutes to solve a problem like 1.84 x 3.5. In your head you’re thinking ‘dawg this shit is easy as hell’, but you can’t. instead you have to things like ‘ok great now what do you do with that 3’?

or when you tell them that the formula for area is A=length x width, and you ask them to solve the following:

the rectangular prism had a length of 18.8 and the width as half of the length, what is the area of the rectangular prism. oh jesus. sweet lord. give me the strength to walk this child through this fucking problem. and some days you do. you walk them through it, you explain that when you see the word ‘half’ you divide the length by 2. other times you just set up the problem and hand them the calculator, ‘here, plug it in. great you got the right answer!’

papers are the worst. jesus. but i’ll save those examples (for there are many) for a later date.

but that wasn’t the worst part of my day. no, not the being hugged by the mustiest child in the building (and constantly being reminded of it, as there was a faint smell of him following me throughout the day), explaining more than 10 times why the students should go to the college fair, or trying to deal with a student who got put out of class and will not sit still long enough for me to call his mom to pick his worrysome ass up!

no that wasn’t anything. typical day.

i went to get my hair trimmed and walked out looking like

Shasha Thump with the freeze curls

i’ve never cried after receiving a haircut, but i did tonight and this bitch said the dumbest thing.

me: “this is just bad. bad”

her: “in three weeks you are coming to come to me and be like, i love it thank you!”

me: “who walks around and says ‘girl come see me in three weeks, i’m going to be fly!’?”

it makes no sense. i walked out and cried when i got home. ihere is nothing worse than feeling stuck with a hairdo you know will take at least a month until you can feel confident.

so i’ve been spending my evening looking at ‘glueing in hair weaves’ tutorials on youtube. i might post the before and after tomorrow.

i’m going to bed. i gotta work tomorrow.