Another Chat with ChatGPT

 What a Brave New World we live in, my friends! Today, in preparation for my sermon here at "The Gods Are Bored," I had another lively chat with ChatGPT. Here are the results.

This is my second post about ChatGPT. It's an AI text-generating software that is available for free to any high school kid who needs to write an essay about that novel they didn't read. You can even put it on a 9th grade setting, to get text that has mistakes in it!

Today the English department at my school had a meeting with our district's Assistant Senior Superintendent. The ASS came to our meeting specifically to inform us that our district will not be blocking the ChatGPT app or any other text-generating AI app. The ASS sniffed, "Go back to using paper and pencil. Do you have enough paper? I can order paper."

Friends, I can't make this shit up.

Even I, Anne Johnson, who have only been teaching 13 years can recall a time when essays were written by hand, and only the final draft was typed out on a clunky desktop computer. My students were never willing to re-write, revise, expand, or edit their work. And who could blame them? A revision involved putting a red carat at the end of a sentence and slapping a series of sticky notes on the draft. I hadn't done that myself since 1975! Now, with Google Docs, I can say to a student, "Why don't you look at that second paragraph and offer another example and some more insight?" And I get it.

I guess you can't blame me for taking my umbrage to the source of the problem: ChatGPT. I opened a new account and asked it, "Should a 9th grade student use ChatGPT to write an essay?" And of course it expounded brilliantly on how it is not in any way a substitute for true critical thinking and creativity. Well! Humility! One loves seeing that in artificial intelligence, since it is so often missing in the human race.

No surprises there. So next I asked it some specifics about how shoes are used as symbols in the novel The House on Mango Street, by Sandra Cisneros. The House on Mango Street often appears on lists of Best Books of the 20th Century, and deservedly so. It's positively brilliant.

Not only could ChatGPT not identify how shoes are used as symbols in the book, it gave inaccurate quotes and glaringly wrong information about the text. This lil bot is surfing the web and latching onto inaccuracies that it then spouts as truths.

Emboldened, I asked ChatGPT about another novel I teach, Forged by Fire, by Sharon Draper. The bot did even worse with this lesser-known book. The stepfather became an older brother (?) for one thing.

What I loved was that, when I pointed out to ChatGPT that it was wrong, it apologized and promised to do better. Maybe that's why my district's ASS likes it so much -- it's a suck-up.

Then I got another idea. Remember how I asked it if the Gods were bored, and it said "blah blah blah" instead of a simple YES? Today I specifically asked it about my blog.

Anne's Question: What is the blog "The Gods Are Bored" about?

ChatGPT's Answer: I am unable to determine the specific blog you are referring to as my training data only goes up until 2021 and "The Gods Are Bored" could refer to a number of different blogs or websites. However, a blog with a similar title could be about religion, spirituality, mythology, or other related topics. The blogger might explore different beliefs and practices from around the world and offer their own perspective and insights on these subjects. The "bored" aspect of the title could suggest that the blogger is looking at these topics with a critical eye and perhaps finds certain aspects of religious beliefs and practices to be tedious or lacking in engagement. Without more specific information or access to the actual blog, it is difficult to say what the exact focus or tone of "The Gods Are Bored" might be.

Dang! The Smithsonian didn't want me, and neither does ChatGPT! And then it has the cheek to imagine what the blog *might* be about! HA HA! BAMMMP!!!  WRONG, YOU STUPID BOT! This peerless blog is a channel to bored deities from multiple pantheons over millennia of recorded history!

Sorry this sermon is so long. But here are my encouraging takeaways:

1. ChatGPT doesn't read books. It couldn't tell me what color Esperanza's shoes were, even though she describes the same shoes three times in a 100-page book.

2. Chat GPT doesn't have access to my blog. I remain inscrutable to it.

3. Finally, after all these years of begging y'all to send me loose leaf paper, my ASS is going to order reams and reams of it. Oh, the irony.

I have one last message for both my ASS and ChatGPT, and I'll give it as only a Super Bowl-Bound Eagles fan can do it:

HEY, YOUS!

Snippets

 Nearly a month without "The Gods Are Bored!" Tells you how exciting my life is.

But in the interest of navel gazing I'll record some events.

*Thumbing my nose at the Supreme Court, but mindful of Loki's advice to lay low (see below), I took all of my students outside on a sunny day and showed them the Four Directions. Literally had them turn East, South, West, and North. And surprise! I'm having a much better year so far with this batch of kids.

*Went to a Renaissance Festival with my sister. When we sat at an ampitheatre to watch a show called "Puke and Snot," we were told by Snot that Puke had Covid. Snot asked if there was anyone in the audience who would like to read Puke's part of the script. And I guess my three readers know how that turned out! (Years of Fairy Festivals prepares one for such contingencies.)

*Got to know my students quickly, discovered that one of them is a backup quarterback for one of the powerhouse football teams in the county. When that student complained of a headache two days in a row -- and admitted he'd taken some tough hits in practice -- I alerted the nurse. Student was taken to the hospital and put on concussion protocol. Kind of put me off football for about ten minutes, but I couldn't stay away because

*The Philadelphia Eagles are undefeated! A big 6-0! Still I have to ask myself how I can support a game that scrambles the brains of sweet freshman students in my classroom.

*Speaking of Philadelphia, the aggressively mediocre Phillies are in the National League Championship Series. It's been a banquet in Philly lately.

*My school broke ground on a big new addition. It's being built over my assigned parking space, so I got a new space. The new space is closest to the Auto Tech shop, so I walk through there every day. It didn't take me long to notice the gleaming new Subaru Outback in one of the bays. Who knew? Subaru donated a brand new car to the school so students could learn about modern technology in cars! I like the Subaru I own, but I wasn't wedded to it. Until now. Anne will be Team Subaru forever.

*Today I got a Covid booster. My fifth Covid shot. Didn't make any plans for the weekend.

Well, last year was really challenging in the workplace. I'm knocking on wood, but so far this 2022/23 batch of freshmen is the best since way before the pandemic. They're still wiggly puppies, but they aren't writing expletives on each other's papers or punching the little kid when no one is looking. And they love the books sent to them by your generosity!

With no lint remaining in my navel, I big you farewell.

Paganism in Public Schools: A Teacher's Guide, Part One

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," public school teachers! Perhaps you have noticed that things have changed overnight in the ol' US of A. And while none of us like it, well, there you are. Personally I am heartsick, because separation of church and state has always been important to me. But pish tosh! We've all got to suck up and live by the new rules.

If you are a Pagan public school teacher, chances are that you have been entirely closeted about it in your classroom. Me too! However, I have always had a feeling that some of my students could benefit from some basic Wiccan/Druidic/Santeria influence. Over this summer break, I will be offering helpful tips on how to conduct Pagan practices in a way that is not coercive but is true to your personal faith.

First you need to spruce up that drab desk of yours!

Calling the Quarters is an important part of my practice. In years past, I have marked the Four Directions on a discreet sticky note that I stuck to my desk. This year I plan to mark my teacher desk in a more prominent way: a bright green paper taped to the desk for East, a bright orange or yellow paper taped to the desk for South, a bright blue paper taped to my desk for West, and a bright violet piece of paper taped to my desk for North.

I will feel free to talk about the Directions to my students if they ask. I'll also be sure to take some photos of my desk when it's all done up!

Ancestor Veneration is also an important aspect of my practice. This is the easy one. Nobody is going to look twice if you load your teacher desk with photos of the ancestors you admire. I've never taken pictures of my family in to school before, but wow. What a great idea! 

Deities. We all have Deities that support our work as teachers. But I'll bet you never had a picture of your Goddess on your teacher desk! I guess I am a bit ahead of you there, because since the pandemic started I have had a beautiful work by Thalia Took right behind my desk, discreetly looking outward. Here is my school Goddess:

EXHIBIT A: Artemis Brauronia

I have this photo in an ornate frame. A few students have asked me about Her in passing, and I have given vague answers. Now I will be more detailed, including how Artemis and I found each other.

(Aside, Artemis is not necessarily the Goddess for you. Check out Thalia's gallery: She has a lot of Goddesses!)

Herbs and crystals are something I haven't placed openly on my desk before. I have kept them in a small portable altar box. I'm actually really excited about getting some nice crystal geode to use as a paperweight. It really will soothe me to have an actual crystal on my desk! Take a crystal that speaks to you and use it! I wouldn't take one from your supply already, because things do disappear from teacher desks. Buy a new one specifically for your classroom and charge it yourself.

Instructive reading material. In my school district, which serves minority urban students, we teachers are encouraged to have compelling classroom libraries. I have a really good one, liberally supplied by readers of this blog. One thing I haven't had before, but will have now, are books about Witchcraft. I know some of my students are interested in this topic, and I also know that the secretary who runs our school library is a Christian zealot and Trump supporter.

There is actually a really nice introductory book about Witchcraft specifically for teens, and I have done the Amazon link here just because it's easiest. The best thing about Amazon is that they will have similar titles underneath the listing. I'll be adding this book and at least one book about astrology to my classroom library in the upcoming school year. Do some research! I'm going to try to find books about ancient religious practices of the Caribbean, because many of my students are from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic.

Here at "The Gods Are Bored" we like to do series posts, so please check back for future installments about creating a Pagan classroom and modeling your religious faith for your students. It's a new dawn. It's a new day. None of us are rejoicing, but we must be heard and seen. It's in the Constitution.

Blessed be!

Full Moon, Solstice Soon

 Teacher in September: By golly, I'm going to go to the gym after work! I've been doing it all summer. How hard can it be?

Teacher in June: Let me sit here in the recliner for an hour before I change that tablecloth.

My lieblings, this is not hyperbole. The tablecloth dodge literally happened to me a week ago.I feel even worse today.

With three days left in the school year (one of them devoted entirely to picky paperwork), I am fried like your granny's Maryland chicken.

I don't like to bitch and moan about my job, because I've got one. But dang on a biscuit, it's an exhausting bit of business.

Like, I didn't even need to make these memes. I just Googled "tired teacher." There are so many of us!

But the full moon will soon be rising, and Solstice is next week. I will finally staple the last piece of newspaper over the last square of bulletin board and walk out for a nice long holiday.

It will take me about a week to regain my energy. But once I start getting enough sleep, I'll be full of piss and vinegar again.

And speaking of sleep, the sun is still high in the sky, and I'm ready to hit the sack. Yep, 7:15 p.m. is the new midnight.

But I'm not worried. Every little thing is gonna be all right.

A Public School Teacher Reads "The Dawn of Everything" in the Spring

 What's the name of this blog again? Something about Gods. What's my name? Oh, I know this one! My name is Miss. Pretty sure of that. It's a very common teacher name.

So for Xmas my husband (I forget his name) gave me a book called The Dawn of Everything. It's a heavy book. I mean heavy as in it hurts your hands to hold it. Don't quote me on this, but I think it's over 700 pages, including exhaustive footnotes and bibliographies.

I've been reading this book with teacher brain since early March. It was interesting, I think.

Long story short, this book is about, em ... everything? First thing in the morning? Well, I am an absolute expert on that! I have to be everything to everybody at 7:15 a.m. every weekday! Heck, it's dawn or near dawn or before dawn when I wake up, ten months of the year. So I know me some dawns.

The book. It's about ancient cultures, and Indigenous Americans, and whether or not human history leads in a straight line from little bands of hunter-gatherers to Elon Musk buying Twitter.

Now, I would absolutely hate to ruin this important and fascinating book for you, so I'm not going to offer up any spoilers here. Mostly because I can't. I read this book with teacher brain. I think I got the message of it, but I won't be sure until mid-July when the fog clears and I'm no longer chronically sleep-deprived.

It's not just The Dawn of Everything that eludes my fried-egg-in-the-pan brain. It's the Sunday New York Times, the cookie recipe on the side of the oatmeal box, the exit signs on the New Jersey Turnpike, the laundry directions on a pair of blue jeans. I can't comprehend basic syllables, let alone sentences.

Well, it's 8:12 p.m., my bedtime. I feel like I could sleep for 15 years.

I have not used The Dawn of Everything as a book to fall asleep while reading. It's too heavy for that. Plus, my cat Gamma bats books out of my hands when I read in bed.

I liked The Dawn of Everything? Ask me again in August.

Frank Talk about Keeping Your Classroom Free of Any Mention of Gay or Trans

 Hi there, I'm Teacher Annie of "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm an expert on all things teachy, since teaching is my job. Okay, okay, I'm only proficient, never distinguished, but you fellow educators out there will appreciate this -- on my most recent evaluation, I was 0.02 away from distinguished! So close and yet so far.

But enough about me, let's talk about not talking about gay!

The beautiful thing about teachers is how we all share our best ideas with each other. Some hard-hearted bastard teachers ask for money, but by and large we are a wide-open profession.

That's how I have seen nice teachers in Florida sharing "best practices" for not saying gay. Or trans.

And before the big reveal of those b.p., let me say something about trans children. They know themselves by kindergarten. They just don't know it's wrong to know, unless their parents tell them it's wrong to know. Which, if you are a truly loving parent, how could you tell your child they're wrong about their fundamental self-image?

Back to the school setting.

So apparently the bill signed by the Florida legislature (which no I have not read, kiss my ass) bans the teaching of anything about gender.  This is what I'm getting from the Florida teachers who have to live with this thing, so they have read it.

Can't teach gender. Can't teach boy/girl. Can't have gender-specific bathrooms, because they would have to be designated Boy/Girl. Can't read books where there are boys and girls. All children have to be kids. Can't teach about gay families? Can't teach about straight families either. Kid wants their parents to come to school, it better be a pair of storks.

Me personally, I'm all for not teaching one damn thing about gender from kindergarten to third grade. No stories with people in them at all! Not even the Muppets! A steady dose of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, thank you very much.

Here's a book that would make the cut, so long as you don't mention that chickens are female and roosters are male.

And you can even get it from this nice Christian book distributor!

My elementary school had non-gendered bathrooms. Only one kid could use the bathroom at a time. They were basically little water closets. All good, right? Gosh, how is it done now? Do you have a bunch of little girls hanging out in a bathroom together? Bullying each other and smoking cigarettes, like they do in high school? DANG! 

I think if it's done carefully, this whole not saying anything about gender or sexuality could be a boon to Florida's schoolchildren. Take baseball, for instance. Scrap those sissy softball teams, let's play some hardball, kids! Kids! Kids! Don't draw a family picture of your mommy and daddy, kid! Draw your parents. Chances are they're both working themselves to death, so why differentiate the gender?

Halloween's here! You don't want to be a princess, you want to be royal. But why even be royal when you can be a skeleton, or Pac-Man ... oops ... Pac-Person. Super heroes? Spiderperson, Batperson, Wonder Person! Or just be a cat. It's easier.

I can honestly see the upside to a gender-free experience in K-3. Let's put the lil tykes in unisex uniforms too, while we're at it. No one will get bullied for wearing the wrong thing to school.

I'm not taking credit for any of these brilliant ideas. I've seen them shared on teacher blogs. Sharing is caring, and teachers know how to do both!

To conclude this sermon, I would like to shout out my elementary school principal, Miss Hazel Fridinger. She was very dedicated, to the point where she didn't have time to get married. Her female housemate never got married either. I love to think of that happy pair, sharing expenses and chores all their lives long. See what I mean? Teaching is such a sharing kind of experience. Always has been.

Have a nice day, kids! Children! Youngsters! Tots! Precious little gender-free souls.

On Teenagers and Masks

 Masks became optional at my school on Monday, March 7.

I figured I would walk in and finally see all the dewy young faces that have been partially obscured since September.

Guess what? The masks are all firmly in place! The only kids not wearing them are kids who wouldn't comply with the mandate. Those kids are unmasked. Everyone else didn't skip a beat. It's wall-to-wall masks, about 93 percent of everyone!

I never expected this, but now that I think about it, well. Teenagers. You know? They all want to hide their faces. Or to do what their friends are doing. If the cool kids keep wearing their masks, everyone else will.

Now I'm wondering if the principal will have to decree an end to mask wearing at some point. Until he does, I'm quite content to reside behind a sheath of cloth.

Haiku from a Teacher

 Please stop banning books

I'm trying to teach reading

Can't if you ban books

I Survived National School Shooter Day 2021

 I blame Big Tobacco.

Despite their best efforts, Americans have finally turned up their noses, for the most part, at tobacco products. So Big Tobacco looked for a new market and found China. Yes, that China.

Chinese men are nuts for their cigarettes. I had to toss my exchange student because he was smoking in my house. He wouldn't hear of trying any cessation techniques. And all his exchange student pals smoked like smokestacks too. This is going to be a big public health problem for China in years to come.

You know that nation isn't going to take this lying down. And thus we got TikTok.

Tobacco is a scourge that affects the lungs. TikTok is a scourge that affects the brain. In case you didn't know it, TikTok is owned and run by the Chinese.

My students have the attention span of chipmunks. Instagram has helped, but TikTok reigns supreme in senseless distraction. 

But wait. There's more.

TikTok users have been issuing "challenges." As in, October was "Slap a Teacher Month." The idea was to assault a teacher and record it on video to show on TikTok. I feel like the hacking of my online Parent Night Google Meet was probably filmed for TikTok.

Each month has its own challenge.

Last week some TikTok shitbird posted that Friday, December 17 would be National School Shooter Day. This prompted my school district to send a message to all parents, staff, and students that there were no credible threats against our school. The district also promised an enhanced police presence on campus on December 17.

The result? Almost half the students at my school took a nice long weekend, skipping school on December 17.

I didn't see an enhanced police presence at my school on December 17. I can see the arrival of police cars and ambulances from the windows at my school. Shit happens occasionally, and our administration is tight-lipped about it. But I know that there are severe ramifications for any student who threatens the school. We also have an armed cop on campus at all times.

I also know that many of my students know someone who has been victimized by gun violence. It's not a game to them. When you have seen the ramifications of firearms, you're far less likely to play with them the way these troubled white boys do.

All this is my way of saying that I did not feel unsafe at school on December 17, and I understand why so many students stayed home. It was very quiet in the school.

As it happened, I sat in the faculty lunch room with the security guards and lunch ladies that day, which I haven't been doing due to Covid. I love the security guards and lunch ladies. They are by far my favorite people to hang with at school. We had a great time discussing local sports, cooking tips, and where they were going for happy hour. No one mentioned the school shooting business.

I survived the fiasco without a scratch. But I fear that the TikTok scourge has only just begun. Teenagers' brains aren't fully formed in the areas where judgment and reasoning are concerned. They are ripe for "challenges" and inspired by seeing others get away with stuff. TikTok gives them a blueprint for bad behavior.

China wins.

Shhh ... Don't Tell!

 I did it. Just don't tell any administrator, okay? I know I can trust you.

I talked about bored Gods in school.

This is the first year I have ever had upperclassmen. And I have them, by golly! One class of 13 juniors.

They are my first class in the morning. Because we are short on buses, some of them have to get picked up at 5:45. (The buses have to run multiple routes.)

So what I actually have is 13 of the sleepiest people on the planet, at 7:45 in the morning, and I'm expected to engage them.

Trouble is, the junior curriculum for my district is ridiculous. I can't see how it would engage them to spend 8 weeks on Fahrenheit 451, when half of them would gladly burn every book in the room.

In these cases I always fall back on Antigone, by Sophocles.

Have you read it? It's about a brave young woman who defies the decree of a dictator to bury her brother, because the laws of the Gods are more important than the laws of men. Of course she pays for it with her life, but damn. Girl has some spine.

I like teaching something where the female lead is badass.

Antigone is not in the curriculum. But I feel like if some admin wanders in, I can say, "Oh yes, I'm teaching Sophocles," and that will be acceptable.

Oh, and if you haven't come across this 2,200+ year-old wonder, it's short! Two quick acts, and everyone dies in the end. Appreciate that, because it takes Shakespeare five acts to slaughter his casts.

But ah, there's a rub.

When the title character, Antigone, talks about following the laws of God, she's not talking about Yahweh. She's talking about Zeus. And as you can imagine, I make that crystal clear from the get-go.

So today, as I looked out over 13 sets of glazed eyes, I asked: "Emmm... people really worshiped Zeus. Those people would be offended if you called Zeus a 'myth.' And in the Bible, God says, 'You shall have no other gods but Me. Clearly implying that there are other Gods. So, students ... sit up ... open your eyes ... Where is Zeus now?"

This opened up a semi-lively discussion, which included (in no particular order) the fact that Africans brought into slavery were forced to be Christians when they had their own Gods, the fact that some people who worship Thor are racists, and the fact that we don't know much about the majority of our planet; namely, the part that's under water.

Wow! A philosophical discussion at my school, at 8:00 in the morning!

One student said he thinks Zeus is satisfied with His status with us moderns, because at least we know who He is. Which made me ask the students, "What happens to Gods whose names are forgotten?"

No one had an answer for that. But I'll bet they think about it after the basketball scrimmage. Well, maybe not.

First time my day job and my blog have intersected. It was fun.

I'm a Wreck at the Vo-Tech

 When was the last time I interviewed a bored deity? A long time. But I can't blame them for boycotting me. Who wants to talk to a human wreck who can't even keep her upholstery clean?

This is just a follow-up on the hate crime in my classroom. To recap, a student wrote the "n" word on a Black student's paper during a time when everyone was circulating around the room. The student who received the slur reported it as a HIB (harassment, intimidation, and bullying).

I turned in a ton of handwriting samples to the administration, and this helped them to determine whose handwriting best fit the scrawl on the paper. They clearly identified a boy and proceeded to grill him about it. He cried. He pleaded innocence. His tears moved the vice principals.

They didn't see the look the kid shot me in between grillings. With face masks, all I can see is eyes. But that's all you need to see, really.

Long story short, another student confessed to the crime. The student said he didn't know the paper belonged to an African American student. He said he thought it was funny. And he said he imitated his best friend's handwriting.

This satisfied the administrators and the girl. The boy who confessed was removed from my class. The girl is back.

The boy with the distinctive handwriting and menacing glare is still in my class.

It's unrealistic to expect that I'll never have issues like this in my classroom. But by and large, the students at my school are pretty dedicated and respectful. And the baddies don't last. But with a TikTok challenge called "Slap a Teacher," I am on my guard.

I've got a wand. I found a piece of rose quartz at the beach over the weekend. I put up a grid of the Four Quarters on my desk. Every day I wear my Witch Ball and my copper bracelet.

There are no atheists in the foxhole.

Free Advice on What Not To Say at Work

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," home of one proficient (not distinguished) teacher. If you're a teacher yourself, you probably know just what I mean.

I totally expected the transition back to full-time teaching to be stressful. How could it not be? Last year I spent most of my days "teaching" from a recliner, while covered by the ample rump of Gamma Cat.

But this transition has been horrible. Worse than anticipation by a country mile.

I won't even go into the standardized testing (seven days out of the first 25, including the past two days). Nor will I dwell upon the fact that the assistant superintendent decided that the AP Lit kids would be better off with a substitute teacher than with me, when their teacher went out for emergency surgery. (Long story)

But what I will dwell upon here is toxic positivity. It's been a problem in my school district ever since I've been there.

Maybe you have this poison in your workplace, too?

"Let's all be positive here! If you just try being positive, you'll feel better!"

When someone says this, here's what I actually hear:

"It really sucks to work here, but don't you dare acknowledge that. Cover it up with a smile, and take whatever drugs you have to in order to keep that smile on your ugly mug."

Today we had another round of standardized testing. I hate using the computer programs and often fuck it up (including today). And yet two administrators tried to coax one of those phony baloney smiles out of me.

I wasn't having it. I'll smile when there's reason to smile, not because I'm told to smile.

But wait. There's more!

At lunchtime I have a paid "duty" in the cafeteria. I enjoy it, actually, because I'm buddies with all the janitors, and we joke around. Today, the new vice principal came in. She asked me how I was doing, and I admitted to being pretty stressed out.

Her response? "Ah, just have a glass of wine when you get home."

Wait. What?

Free advice to my three readers: Never recommend a glass of wine for a stressed-out employee! You might be speaking to an alcoholic.

This is what I mean by "toxic positivity." Instead of recommending a glass of wine, middle managers should be taught how to acknowledge the reality and severity of the stress. Just fucking listen.

OMG INTERRUPTING THIS RANT FOR A WORSE ONE!

William Shatner breaking down in tears because Jeff Bozos sent him into orbit? GAG ME WITH A PLATINUM SPOON.

You know what I'm positive about? I'm positive all billionaires should be eaten. With or without a glass of wine.

Pandemic Teaching Nightmares

 Today I took a half sick day. I went out to lunch and then to the swimming pool. I also called my doctor and got an appointment.

I left early because I was having a panic attack.

Since school began on September 7, five of my students have gone out on quarantine (after one tested positive for COVID). I can't get these teenagers to wear their masks properly unless I am looking straight at them.

School started on September 7, and on September 13 we started district-wide standardized testing. This is done through an expensive online platform that the district purchased a subscription to. The test took 3 full days and part of a fourth. I looked at the junior-level test. It was excruciatingly hard.

Today, September 21 (full moon), we had a practice for another standardized test, this one run by the state of New Jersey. Can you believe we spent 75 minutes practicing how to take a standardized test?

The real standardized test is scheduled for three days next week.

I had a panic attack because I always do when I have to administer a state standardized test. I'm so afraid I'm going to do something that ruins the students' scores that I'm much more likely to actually do it. The expensive testing platform programs are confusing to use.

So I asked my administration not to assign me the job of running the practice test, and they went ahead and assigned me anyway. There is literally no one in the school administration who worked on the last state test in the spring of 2019. Not one administrator who remembered that I have difficulties doing this.

Well, y'all will be proud of me, because I schooled the entire administration today. I melted down and was openly flustered and upset. When an administrator came in to help me create a new password (I just made a new one two days ago), I made the password HellonEarth1! and made sure the admin saw it.

The irony is that the whole practice was a fiasco school-wide, and my class got going first by some strange mystery.

When the practice test was winding to a close, one of the administrators came to apologize to me. But she wasn't among the ones I asked to assign me a benign testing duty. My guess is that she drew the short straw. But it only made me feel worse when someone apologized to me for something she didn't know about.

If I could comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable, I would shut down all the Big School corporations that create and administer standardized tests. You can't believe how many there are. And how much money they make. And how bad they make kids feel about themselves. And how stressed they make the teachers who have to run the testing.

Pearson, Linkit, Kaplan, and all companies that "gather data": go suck a cactus. I'll bet your CEOs go hob-nobbing at Davos every year. I'll bet they would taste good if slow-cooked with some root vegetables.

Hardest school year since my second, so far. So glad I didn't spend my life in this profession.

Wow, I Need My Working Wand!

 On day four of my first week of work, I was told that a kid sitting near my desk had tested positive for COVID. Five students were sent home to quarantine, but I got to stay because I am vaccinated.

I was prepared for this. My guess is the whole school will shut down before Christmas. But in the meantime, I have need for my working wand.

Those of you who have been following my meandering life will know that I have two magic wands: a ceremonial wand and a working wand. The working wand, though it is charged with magic, just looks like a stick. It's quite portable. Comes in handy.

There are so many reasons for taking a wand to work that I can hardly list them all in a single post. I've never faced anything like this autumn. Not even last autumn, when I sat in an empty classroom, fearing my colleagues and their lax habits.

All the students (who aren't in quarantine) have returned to class. They are required to wear masks. Which, being teenagers, they try to finesse. They must put their phones away while in class. Which, being teenagers, they try to finesse. They have to wear uniforms and ID cards. Which, being teenagers ... never mind. You get it.

I teach 9th grade. But this year I am teaching kids who missed 8th grade. I don't know if you can remember back to those awful middle school years, but you will no doubt recall that there's some maturity that happens in 8th grade. It didn't happen. The kids are immature and squirrely. Some of them, when told gently to put their phones away, shut down and put their heads on their desks.

But I saved the worst for last.

I always get at least one inclusion class. For those of you not up on your teacher lingo, an inclusion class contains students who need special, individual support for a variety of reasons. Inclusion classes are co-taught with a Special Ed teacher. I have worked with many such teachers, always in a spirit of collegiality.

This year I need my wand.

I am saddled with a loutish young man probably still in his twenties. Do I need to say more if I tell you he got full-blown COVID last winter from hanging out in a bar with his buddies? Well, sadly, there's more. The chump is chock-a-block with toxic masculinity. Let's put aside that he complains about other teachers he has worked with. He is poison to my students.

After he snarled at the class most of last week (earning their hatred right out of the gate, trust me), I told him I would handle the discipline. Not ten minutes later, he got in the face of a stripling girl of 14 and dressed her down for something I had just handled. The girl wound up shaking and crying.

Not on my damn watch. Wand up, shields up, time to detox this masculine pest.

I'm not a confrontational person. But little girls aren't going to cry in my classroom. I also bleed Union blue, and this guy is in my bargaining unit, but I'm prepared to go to his supervisor if he doesn't shape the hell up.

You know what I hate? I hate people who project doom. I can't feature someone who could say, "IF YOU HAVE YOUR PHONE OUT, YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE HERE AT THIS SCHOOL, AND YOU DON'T WANT THAT KIND OF TROUBLE."

For the love of fruit flies! It's not like these kids are out drinking with their buddies in a pandemic!

So, as my beloved Yellowdog Grannny says, "Chin up, tits out." And wands out. And spines straight. I'm not only teaching the students, I'm teaching a teacher.

By the way, my room is full of the books you all donated to me. I got a whopping $200 from the school district last spring, but I'm well set, thanks to you. I haven't forgotten.

First Day of School, April 22, 2021

 What a wacky week! September behavior in April! And I'm not talking about the weather.

This past week marks the first time I have had students physically in my classroom for over a year. I have been trying to teach them over the Internet since last fall, and it's been a challenge.

But I guess I won them over, because they seemed so happy to see me in the flesh! Was I an influencer somehow? And wowsa, did I entertain them when they sat down in their desks! I did Mummers strut. I did happy dances. I squealed. I wiped fake tears. When the wind caused the cheap windows to vibrate, I told them it was a nest of murder hornets, sit very still. Oh I was in rare form!

Only about half of my students have returned, and the rest are still online. So I am teaching in a mask, online and in person simultaneously. It's like having a litter of kittens to foster. Soon as you pay attention to one, another one wanders off to walk in fresh paint.

Perfect time for poetry, don't you think? I compiled 40 poems, mostly by writers of color, to do a poetry unit. I call it "Poetry Playoffs" and use brackets like the NCAA to find the class favorite poem.

When freshmen arrive at high school, we teachers get what we call a "honeymoon." They are timid and well-behaved and eager to please. This phase usually lasts about six weeks.

Well, there are only six weeks left in the school year, and the past two days I got small classes of honeymooning freshmen, sitting quiet and attentive (and laughing at me).

It's wonderful to finally have students back in class. Wonderful. The only reason anyone would do this grueling job is the chance to be around young people. And what terrific students I have! Great kids. Their lives matter.

P.S. - I've been doing an SAT prep class online since September, and I gave those students an "out" by asking them if they think they're good to go. Darn if those lil pups didn't say they want to keep doing SAT prep because they like getting together with me. Four kids, opting to do SAT prep! Give me a damn Oscar.

P.P.S. - I saw a bald eagle fly over the school three times this week. This afternoon it lingered long enough for me to be absolutely positive what I was looking at. I don't see it as an omen, just an incredibly uplifting sight.

Expendable

 In end stage capitalism, the only lives that are important are the owners. The workers matter not. Someone keel over? Replace the slave and move on.

This is driven home by the push to re-open schools fully, before the real end of the pandemic is in sight. Teachers are expendable. Students are expendable. And with no differentiation between a cluster of kindergartners and big, crowded classes of 15-year-olds, there is bound to be a spike in the virus. A big one.

I read the New York Times every day, and for hours on Sunday. I know the works of all the prominent columnists. It was expected to see David Brooks slam teachers for not wanting to be in school. Not surprising. But when Nicholas Kristof offered his slam a week later, well. I thought he cared about low-paid working people.

Teaching is a profession that has a high percentage of women serving in the basic role of classroom instructor. Most men who enter the profession (including the new Secretary of Education) spend, at most, four years in a classroom while completing their principal certification. The men move up. Most of the long-time classroom teachers are women.

And that means that teachers are expected to martyr themselves for their students.

Don't believe me? Who "saves the day" by getting killed during school shootings? Some poor heroic teacher with a family at home.

Now teachers are being sent back into classrooms prematurely, when the end of the pandemic could otherwise be in sight. I teach high school. This will matter greatly to my students. They are 14 through 16. They and their families will be at risk.

To be fair to my district, they are offering parents the option to keep their kids at home. Those students will go to class virtually, as they have been doing since September. The difference is, teachers will now be instructing in-person classes and online classes simultaneously, while wearing a mask.

The teachers who are already doing this report that it is a massive, overwhelming fail.

My classroom has no air conditioning. In the last 4-5 weeks of school, the temperature can climb to 90 degrees and stay that way. It's global warming in miniature, like a car.

So picture me, Anne Johnson, a teacher of a certain age, working in a stifling hot classroom, in a mask for four hours without a bathroom break. Because that's what I'm looking at, comrades. I have a colleague who will have five hours straight. She's older than I am.

If David Brooks and Nicholas Kristof happened to ring my doorbell right now, I would quickly plug in the cattle prod and give them a good what's for. I never had much respect for Brooks, who is sanctimonious on a good day. But Kristof was one of my favorites. No more. The only way he could redeem himself at this point is to swap jobs with me for the next three months. Then we would see who knows what.

It Didn't Take Long

 My gut told me not to do it, but it's so hard to leave good money on the table when you're a teacher in the summertime.

So I went to a professional development meeting of 2 days duration in a room with 8 other teachers and a consultant.

I took my own hand sanitizer and never removed my mask while there. I didn't share pens or eat in the room, which was air conditioned to near-freezing.

We had ample room to social distance.

Ten days after the meeting, I got a notice from my district that a teacher who was there tested positive. Ten days. No contact tracing in all that time.

I had no symptoms, so I decided to ride it out.

Wednesday the 26th was the two-week marker for this event. Some of the other teachers got tested, but no one else tested positive.

This was 8 teachers. I can hardly wait for September 1, when I will be reunited with the other 60 teachers at my school. On September 8, students start arriving.

It's easy to be hyper-aware when you're bored and cold and well spaced. What about when you have 10,000 things to do, it's hot and humid, and you haven't seen your pals since March?

Well, at least I know that masks work. But now I have to buy plain-colored ones. I'm so bummed. I had a friend make me some beautiful weird ones. Can't use them.

Please continue to petition the Gods and Goddesses for me and all public school teachers. As far as Covid goes, I think it's when and not if.

Coronavirus Navel Gaze: I'm Scared, I Tell Ya. Scared.

 I woke up this morning and realized that two weeks from today I will be going back to work as a public school teacher in a district serving low-income, minority students.

I'm terrified.

Of course I am afraid of catching the virus, but it's not just that.

I'm 61 and I am tasked with teaching 14-year-olds online (from my classroom!) so that they don't fall behind their peers academically. Never mind that my students are already two or three years behind their peers. It's my job to catch them up.

It's my job to compete with PlayStation, TikTok, Discord, Netflix, and Instagram (to name a few) and to inspire young teens to read and write in plain Google docs. And get this: The students in my district have to log in at 7:34 a.m. and go through their whole school day online as if they were in class. What do you think Period 1 will be like? What do you think Period 9 will be like?

*I can't use Personal Choice reading, the backbone of my curriculum, because the students can't touch the books.

*Any literature I use will have to be in the public domain.

*Any YouTube I want to use must be approved by my supervisor. Even a one-minute clip. All approvals must be done individually.

*I will not see my students except as little thumbnails on a Google Meet.

A majority of my students will be baby-sitting younger siblings, who will also be learning online. There will be no "pods" for my kids, no tutors to help them in small groups. They can't afford it.

Anyone who has done it will tell you that great teachers are more or less performers, entertaining the audience and also providing emotional support and personal interaction with each student. How can I do this online? I don't even like talking on the phone, let alone on Zoom.

At age 48 I had to pivot into teaching because I lost my job. I can't pivot again. In any other profession I would be almost ready to retire. Instead I have to work another 9 years. I will be 71 when I submit my papers. If I live to do it.

Usually in late August I'm pleasantly looking forward to meeting 70 new young people and learning about them through their class work and their reading choices. This year it feels like that dreaded First Year of Teaching that shows no mercy and takes no prisoners.

Oh yeah, and Covid. People have already tested positive in the building.

Anyone have any ideas about how to make this work? Bueller?

The Magic Boost

My friends, I sit here every day doing more or less the same thing, which is next-to-nothing. My state is open, but I don't go anywhere except the grocery store and the pharmacy.

That will change when September rolls around. I will be expected to report to my classroom. There have been no plans revealed about what that classroom capacity will be and how my students and I will be protected from the novel coronavirus.

Having worked in a school for 15 years, I'm here to tell you it's a swirling miasma of contagion. In January, just before Covid, I had a virus that had me coughing for weeks. My English department colleagues all caught it too.

I listen to the news obsessively, so I know what I can do to protect myself: masks, hand-washing, face shield, hand sanitizer, don't touch face, social distancing. I'm prepared to do all of that.

But one never wants to leave any tool on the table, so I have turned to magic for a boost in my protection. Magic doesn't replace the mundane safety measures, but it can enhance them.

If you're looking for a good place to start learning about a magical practice, I highly recommend John Beckett's new online course Operative Magic. John is a Druid and a very reasonable, approachable person. His course is six sessions, homework optional (mostly to get his very helpful feedback). John gives a nicely-done history of magic, the philosophy of magic, and then concrete information on how to create a spell. The course is $50, which I call money well spent. I only have one session left to complete, so I've gotten a good view of it.

There are also two books I will recommend if you feel any affinity for organic magic stemming from Appalachian traditions. The first is Staubs and Ditchwater by Byron Ballard. Byron is a hedge witch working as a Pagan. The other book is Backwoods Witchcraft by Jake Richards. Jake works through the Christian tradition, which is to be expected -- generations and generations and generations of Appalachians have been Christians. But what's interesting about Backwoods Witchcraft is how ancient and British Isles it feels. Both of these books show you how to do spells using items you have all around you in your house and yard.

Skeptics might say, "Why turn to magic? Isn't that just a bunch of superstition?"

My answer is, "Why not? And what you might call 'superstition' I call 'covering the mystical bases.'"

This pandemic is the most dangerous existential threat to my existence since I was a blithe teenager doing stupid, reckless stuff. I'm not leaving tools on the table. That would be foolish.

The Charlotte Danielson Nightmare

Have you heard of the Danielson Framework for Teaching? It's a teacher evaluation tool.

It's 27 pages long.

It works like a scoring rubric: 4 to 3.5 = highly effective
                                                 3 to 2.65 = effective
                                                 2.65 and below = double secret probation

The model has four "domains" and over 22 subcategories within those domains. Only two of the four domains have anything to do with classroom activities. The other two have to do with planning, grading, collegiality, etc. etc. etc.

This thing is a nightmare. Go ahead and look it up if you want a case of vertigo.

I had my first bout of Danielson evaluation today. And it was not pretty, let me tell you. I didn't care at all that the woman gave me "partially effective" on my classroom teaching. But not deeming me highly effective for the lesson plans I created for the world wide web about my husband's book has me thumbing through the Bored God Craigslist Ads for a deity who will have nothing to do but smite her.

On any given day any evaluator is going to tear up your best lesson. They are paid to criticize, and they aren't gentle about it.

But the Danielson model is supposed to give credit for things done outside the classroom that enrich the teaching profession.

It doesn't.

I showed my evaluator the wonderful, thoughtful lesson plans I provided this nation's teachers absolutely free of charge. It happens I was using them for the class she observed, that's why they were pertinent. She said because I didn't create them during this school year, they didn't count. This, apparently, is district policy. NEVER MIND that I was USING THEM for the class.

I seriously doubt that my district even has a policy covering online content created by its teachers, because none of them have done it but me.

Picky, distracting shit like this, which teachers have to grasp for like thirsty demons in Hell, is an outcome of getting a numerical score on an evaluation.

The evaluators will tell you until they're blue in the face that it's not about the number. Mine got very vexed with me when I wrote my score on the white board:

2.89

and said I wanted to find a way to get the other

.12

After much haggling, I was able to wrangle another .04 out of her by showing a little loophole in the Ridiculous Rubric that actually deems a teacher "highly effective" for being able to get newspaper clippings off Google!

So, there you have it. A teacher can create a published unit of study for an award-winning book, and that's not highly effective. But that same teacher can Google "Brittnany Maynard," find an article, and that's highly effective.

I hate this profession.

Before you comment (again), "Why are you doing it, then?" I will tell you:

Two days ago, The Spare fell flat on her face when she tripped over a wire in her apartment. After 24 hours she had developed blurred vision and a bad headache. She and her dad spent last evening (until well after midnight) in the local emergency room. She had a CAT scan that revealed a concussion but no bleeding.

THAT'S WHY I'M DOING THIS. She's on my health plan.

Few professions provide health care anymore, and politicians are working like fiends to get around having to give it to teachers. That's where torture instruments like the Danielson Framework for Teaching come in handy. The harder they make it for teachers to be artistic about their work, the more likely the older, more experienced, and more creative teachers will bail.

Why did I ever cease to be a goat judge? I miss those little cloven-hoofed charmers!