Category: Anger

510 days….

After becoming increasingly frustrated with the other, young (stupid, insensitive) teacher last week, I decided that I. Was. Done. helping her out.

This came after she brought her class down to our (enormous) oval about 20 minutes after us and set up within 10 m of my class for her fitness session.

I was winding up our science experiment which involved an unfair relay (easiest way to show kids that we need to be fair when we test in science is to make a game unfair).

She starts shouting instructions to her class WHILE I am talking to mine.  THEN she told some boys in my class to move because they were in the way.

FUCK it love – you have an entire oval to do your shit on and you bring your class within a few metres of mine and THEN complain???

…when I went over to ask her to give us some space  to finish up (quietly so the kids couldn’t hear) she said “it doesn’t really matter what you get done because you are only the supply teacher”.

Rioght.  It’s on Biatch.

I was civil to her for the rest of the week, but also  supremely unhelpful.
“So sorry, we are still using that equipment (that I brought from home), you’ll have to find something else to use”.
“Oh darn it, we finished up the remaining (resource I brought from home), you’ll have to find your own”.
“So sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted that – I only photocopied enough copies for my class”.

All done in my patented passive-aggressive style.

While I hate having to work like that, I felt so much freer and better.  I wasn’t frustrated.  I wasn’t feeling angry.  I wasn’t feeling upset. I was feeling on top of everything and I was flying!

… meanwhile, my class shone like the diamonds that they are.

….meanwhile, my kids begged me to stay until the end of the year.

….meanwhile, we got on with the business of  teaching and learning.

…..and meanwhile, the special ed teacher who works with some students in my class casually mentioned that the spec. ed unit was really happy with the work I’ve been doing with their kids.

….and meanwhile the spec ed aide that works in my class mentioned my work with the head of spec ed.

…. and meanwhile, the head of spec ed has passed on his recommendation that I be given my own class next year to the principal.

 I know.!!!!!

Nothing is set in stone.

I still might not get the job I want.

I still might get stupid, nasty, bullshit crap pulled on me from young idiots who think they know it all.

But that doesn’t matter to me, because it feels like my work has been noticed.

It feels like I have come out shining despite what seemed to be two deliberate attempts to disrupt my teaching*.

…and it feels like you had a hand in this.

…. it feels like you did some whispering for me.

Thank you.

I miss you.

I love you.




*There was another incident earlier in the week involving a photocopier, me trying to be helpful, and a wild goose chase that could have put me in the wrong place at the wrong time were it not for a fabulous aide).



505 days…..

I’ve been on class last week and this week.

The class is made up of a mixture of “my boys” from last year and some kids from the other class I spent quite a bit of time with.  Plus some awesome year 5s.

I love it.

I want to keep them.

….and at least some of them want to keep me.  (So lovely to have a beautiful Yr 5 girl beg me to keep teaching her for the rest of the year).

But …

on the down side, I am working along side one of the 20-somethings.

She’s quite good, this girl.  I give her a lot of time which she happily absorbs.

but then proceeds to shit all over me at other times because she is 25 and still knows everything.

about everything.

My natural instinct is to help others.

she likes my help.

I have some default setting that demands that I help where needed.

But she has a happy knack of pissing me off just as we wind up for the day by uttering the dumbest and most condescending crap.

stupid things like:

“At the end of the day, you are the classroom teacher and you can do whatever you want”.

Ummmm … no.  I can’t actually.

Nor can you, love.

These people called kids have opinions on what we do in class and so do their parents, despite you thinking they are all morons (some are but most just want to see their kids educated).

Not to mention that I am technically a supply teacher who is duty-bound to stick as closely as possible to the prescribed activities set by the actual classroom teacher who is currently having a few weeks R&R.

I guess this really isn’t a big deal.

It’s nothing really.

But I miss downloading the shite to you each evening.

I miss talking to someone who understands how frustrating some people can be.

Someone who can remind me to laugh off the pompousness that some of our young teachers are so good at.

You would have made a joke about it.

You would have made me laugh.

and I miss that.

I miss you.

I love you.


479 days….

I am so sick of putting up with idiots at work.

Specifically, one 20-somethings that knows EVERYTHING about kids.

She was in a flap because she had to look after her boyfriend’s 3 yo niece that evening and she was feeling ill.

So I suggested she use Mother’s Box-shaped Helper (TV) and some well placed DVDs while she reclined on the couch with a few advil and a box of tissues.

I’ve used this tactic many a time in the Before when Greg wasn’t home.

I remember being heavily pregnant with H, feverish with a cold and literally falling asleep on my feet whilst looking after a very adventurous 22 month old K.  Some well placed blocks and a Boo-Bah’s DVD bought me a little nap which got me through the day.


Obviously I know sweet FA about kids compared to a 26 yo childless teacher because, and I quote, she has been “teaching for longer” than me.


Suffer in your Kleenex then love…..

…and I hope to God that she never has to learn the hard way that sole parenting requires a few tricks and compromises to get through the day.

It’s NOT the same as single parenting.

Nobody else can rescue you from your children’s exuberance when you are too  sick to care for them.

Twice the work on half the income…


Sole parents are Superheroes.


I miss you

I love you.


PS – big things are happening in blog land.  Tonight, my first guest post should appear on Widow’s Voice.  Exciting!

Dear Darl, it’s May 21, 2011

446 days…

I realised yesterday that while I outwardly feel strong and capable, the inside of me is still so very angry…

You see, twice in the past two days complete and utter selfish aresholes have made me feel like serving up a dose of “so you  think YOUR life is bad??? Well have a go at mine”.

The first time was in the staff room at work …. apparently my  conversation with someone on the supportive school committee about our need  for a school chaplain* was not as important as their need or a new staff room microwave and their need to tell said person Right Now by yelling their demand from the other side of the room and so I was talked over the top of, then “shushed” by  arsehole#1 because they needed “to talk about something  more important”.

(I’d only just said that the police chaplain was so supportive to us the day you died and so having one on the school staff would be a great move for the supportive school committee).

I could have slapped the bitch.

But I didn’t.

I seethed.  and then I just went to a higher power (deputy principal) who agreed with me and had set the wheels in motion wrt getting us a chaplain.

Then yesterday, I went to buy chook feed from the local produce store and the pleasant red-headed man wasn’t there, but Mr Cranky- Pants Arsehole was.

As you know, a bag of  chook feed  weighs 20 kg so the usual practice is to find a bloke that works there, tell him which feed I want.  Proceed to register, pay for feed (which incidentally has no prices on or near it on the shop floor)  and then he carries it to the car.

Not yesterday…. areshole #2 looked up from the register, sighed and said “can I help you” whereon I said that I’d like some chook feed.  Then he gave me a look, shrugged his shoulders and said “well … how much do you want, which one, what’s the price” as if I should  be able to guess a) what he had in stock and b) his non-displayed pricelist. He gave the impression that he was annoyed that I didn’t have a bag of chook feed on my shoulder so he could just take my money and sit back down again.

I was so put-out by his attitude that I meekly accepted whatever chook feed he deigned to sell me, and when I asked if he could carry it to the car he said “I guess you don’t shop many places where people carry things to the car for you”.

“Well no areshole … most places with 20 kg bags of feed have trolleys and an actual floor that isn’t made out of cow dung so I’m able to manoeuvre it to the car by myself.”

Except I didn’t say that.

I smiled and nodded because I have to be polite at all costs.

I let him *throw* the feed in the boot and drove off ….. with the wrong feed.

Later, I wanted to go back and rail at him that no matter how shitty his day was, I could top it; my life is worse.

I wanted to tell him to suck it up and put on his big-boy pants and to grow up a bit —>  Nobody you love is dead (I know this because I know his sisters and the rest of his family very well – they are much nicer!).

I wanted to tell him that he was being a total arsehole.

But I didn’t.

I just won’t ever give him any more of my money.

But I’ll take the kids into his dingy, dusty, smelly shed and let them annoy the living crap out of him and his pet bird for half an hour and leave without buying anything.

’cause technically, that’s not being impolite.  Passive Aggressive maybe…. but he’s too self-absorbed to notice that anyway.

….so back to the main point …

I am angry on the inside.

Inside the inside.

The bit that only gets rattled by sudden strong emotion.

I am seething with rage that arseholes  surround me and  yet you are not here.

I’m angry that both these idiots  get to suck oxygen from the air and live and breathe and love and laugh and you don’t.

I’m angry that God took the wrong man.

I miss you.

I love you.


*We need a school chaplain, given that *2* families lost a parent last week, bringing the number of sole-parent / widowed households to 12 within the school.  I realise that there’s a body of people who don’t want school chaplains who read my blog, but I would suggest that I might just know a lot about which I speak when I say that I would rather have a school chaplain over another  school counsellor.  I’ve worked with both as both teacher and parent of kids who *need* a chaplain at school far more than they need the counsellors who’ve ummed and arrred and basically made life more difficult.  I’ll stick with the  psychologist we see privately AND chaplain as my preferred option.

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Day 420-422…

ANZAC day was spent quietly at home.

I have a slightly different take on the day to most …

… I choose to remember the wives left behind.

… the mothers and fathers.

…and the children.

For every soldier killed in war, the flow-on effect destroyed many more lives.


Tuesday 26/4 was a holiday as Easter Monday and ANZAC day fell on the same day this year.

We spent the day huddled inside out of the rain and wind watching Harry Potter.  Again.

That and I booked a phone reading with a psychic my friend recommended.

In July.

Because that was the earliest phone appointment I could get.

If I wanted to see her in person, I’d have to wait until next year.


Wednesday 27/4 was the first day of school for Term 2.

…for the kids as I am apparently not starting back until next week.

I think.

I hate this job uncertainty, and yet I’d rather work at this school than be more certain of ongoing work at another school…

Anyhooo … the kids enjoyed going back to school to see their friends while I went to see the financial planner.


I need to see a solicitor about the farm … just to formalise *MY* expectations even though GC is unwilling to sign anything or to plan farm succession.


Really must do this soon…


While I was in the city, I took some photos of ANZAC square for my 365 project (this week’s theme is remembrance) when a man came and asked if I could help him.

It seemed he needed asthma medication, however he didn’t have his wallet and needed $10.

I offered to take him to the nearest chemist and buy him some.

Apparently he “didn’t want to trouble [me]”.  If I were to just give him the money, he could get it himself.

So I told him that I was a widow bringing up young kids on my own and did he really want to take my money?…. (and I didn’t add “take it for booze/ drugs for yourself”).

My offer was to buy him ventolin from the chemist across the street or nothing.

He shrugged and walked away.


I didn’t need this today.

Not when I’m nervous about my ongoing work.

I miss you.

I love you.


Dear Darl, it’s April 21, 2011

416 days….

Hooray – the deck has been started.

D was back this morning with a bloke called Andrew, his son and an excavator guy ….. all the footings are dug and the piers are in.

Unfortunately, with tomorrow being Good Friday, no more work will be done until NEXT Thursday …. but still, I’m excited.

In the middle of the excitement, we all went to the dentist.

The kids loved it.

I cowered in fear until it was my turn …

…and yes, my wisdom tooth does have to come out … but aside from hat … all good.

H may have an issue with his lower jaw but I’m not convinced there’s anything to worry about yet.

and I prepare, for the first time ever, to Completely Ignore the Christian Easter traditions and embrace it solely as a public holiday.

with chocolate.

I may take the kids to church on Easter Sunday, but I will be there as a non-praying, non-singing, non-participating person.

The same way I endure musicals so that they have the opportunity to decide whether or not they like it instead of me just refusing to take them at all.

Very freeing to think I don’t have to mentally participate.

I may eventually go back to religion, but for right now, I am so white-hot-livid with God that I refuse to take part in anything that glorifies him.’

he took you away, and for that, I hate him.

But I love you.


398 days…

I got sleep last night.

But I dreamed a lot which meant I don’t feel rested.

I had a particularly vivid dream, which woke me up … but typically, all I can remember is that I was more amazed that I sounded like such an officious wally in my dream.  Somehow, I  clearly remember asking someone in a dream if they were “going to keep up this pretence” as it would be “detrimental in the long term”.

I also remember drafting an eye-poppingly, epiphanous blog post about widowhood.  It was bloody brilliant and I told myself that I’d remember it in the morning.

Of course, I can only remember that I was happy about the amazing post … but can’t remember any of the actual content.

Bloody typical.

At least I got some stuff done today…. washing, shopping, cleaning … and fight referee.

….and then your nephew came to visit us in the afternoon. It was nice to see him and I suspect that he has a girlfriend now (I know – he’s so quiet I despaired that he would ever find anyone).

He has even offered to come and do some electrical work here once the deck is in.  Hooray!


K had a big melt down just now.  I thought she was all whiney because she missed out on a treat tonight (they had milkshakes and the most awesome chocolate and strawberry hot cross buns for afternoon tea)….

but she was just missing you.


and I don’t know what to tell her other than that it IS wrong and it DOES suck and that she IS allowed to cry and rant and rage at the wrongness of it all.

Because no matter how many times some well-meaning knob writes or says something about “sucking it up” because they know someone else who has it worse and is all happy and shiny …. > THIS < particular brand of shit is Just Plain Wrong.

and will always be wrong.

We miss you.

We love you.


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Dear Darl, it’sd March 18, 2011

382 days…

I finally paid the $1665 for your headstone today.

I stopped by your new digs (jk – I crack my own shit up these days) to say hello.  I don’t feel like you are there so it seemed kind of pointless.

K was home sick – Dad looked after her (! I know!) while I went to the bank and out to the cemetery.


The other big brave thing I did happened when I dropped H off at school ….

I noticed *two* new supply teacher that I’d never seen before.


Considering that I knew Bron asked for me *specifically* for today for my beloved 6/7s,  and I didn’t get a call, I went in to see the new deputy bitch principal.

She feigned ignorance that I wasn’t already working today … until I pointed out that what she had me down for was *last week*.

She has promised to call Kez or me FIRST for future Friday supply days, but I’ll see how it goes.

I’ll see if the supply – Friday thing improves and if not, I’ll whinge to the HOC who, as far as I’m concerned, wears the  pants at school.

I consoled myself that I couldn’t have worked anyway with K sick again … but that’s MY choice, not DPs.


I’m so sick of doing everything myself.  Couldn’t something PLEASE me handed to me on a platter at some point?  It happens to other people … why not me?

A bit more whispering on your part wouldn’t go astray…

God I miss you .

I need you here.

I miss your warm, smooth skin to snuggle into at night.

I love you.




Dear Darl, it’s March 16 2011

380 days….

Well – the guy from the insurance company didn’t turn up this morning – it’s now tomorrow morning.

Please, PLEASE whisper in his ear for me.


I had a run in with my least favourite teacher today.

Last year I found her opinionated and rude (and, ironically, always  late for playground duty)… and forgetful that other people may just know a little bit more about life (and kids) than she does.

She is only young … but in the fashion of the young (and stupid), she already knows how to do everything.

My TA and I were 5 minutes late getting to her class today – a few issues in the previous classroom (both with ASD kids and a separate behaviour issue) meant that I had to update that classroom teacher with a bit of info….

So when we walked next door we were met with “You are 8 minutes late” (her clock is fast).  She decided that calling this out to us from the other side of the room (and in front of all the Yr 7 kids) was appropriate.

This pissed both Michele and I off because we ARE usually on time … and sometimes it is really hard to be in two places at once as our timetable dictates. (We both finish and start classes every half hour … no travel time between classrooms allowed for).

I just answered with “That will happen from time to time”.

She had nowhere to go from that.

But this teacher pisses me off in a more general manner as well … again in the manner of on who already knows everything….

You see, this teacher has refused to employ the Free, Ready Resources from our fantastic literacy coach.  I mean this stuff is gold … and it’s printed, laminated and available to be hanging on the wall in an instant…

but no.

There are very few  literacy posters anywhere in her classroom,  (or maths, SOSE or Science posters for that matter).

A bit of art.

Two reading strategies.

That’s about it.

But nothing to remind kids what a noun is (they need constant reminding) and God help them if they ever have to deal with adverbs.

…and this has pissed off the literacy coach – the woman with more  literacy teaching experience and knowledge in her little finger than the rest of the school combined.

So I’m not alone in feeling quite annoyed with her smart-arse attitude.

…and somehow, that makes me feel a lot better.

Except that I wish you were here to let me vent about it to your face.

You were such a good listener … as I guess I was when you needed to vent about your work.

I miss you.

I love you.


379 days….

I’m feeling a little pissed off tonight…

I was tutoring this afternoon when the phone rang – so I let it go to the machine.

It was a guy from the insurance company about the water damage.

At 5:01 pm, I was listening to the messages when he rang again (a whole 15 minutes after the initial phone call).

He wants to come here tomorrow morning – I told him it was not convenient.

So now he is coming at 7-7:15 am tomorrow morning.

Because it fits with HIS schedule.

and then he said “it doesn’t sound like something you can claim anyway”.

I assured him that 2 different people from his company had told me that I more than likely could.

I’ll be asking or a detailed report with reasons WHY it’s not covered if he says “no”.

I’m not happy.

This is the shit YOU are meant to deal with.

You are meant to bamboozle him with engineering terms and shit until he says “yes, we’ll cover the repairs”.

NOT happy about this situation – will need your help tomorrow.


I miss you.

I love you.