Chuck Brooks is a teacher at Rosemount High School. His column appears every week.
- Member for
- 11 months 2 weeks
Hello September and now, goodbye September. One down and eight-plus to go! This year, my teaching load has changed after many years of the same schedule. … Archive Material -...
You realize, don't you, that to many students, teachers are not human, right? It's not something that is simply happening now. This has been the case for as long as I've taught. If I remember correctly, I am certain I didn't view my teachers as human either. They taught. When they were with other teachers, they spoke in tongues. A language, I was certain, I wouldn't understand.
I'm sick today. Not a good day to be sick. Pep fest in three hours. Outside. In 90-plus heat. Dance tonight until 11:30. I felt a little less than average this morning. I thought it might be allergies. It's happened before. However, as this day has progressed, I now know it's probably something more than that. It can't be, however. I have things to do.
Four down. A hundred plus to go. Yup. School is under way. The first weekend has arrived. There aren't a lot of teachers who need it!
Well, well, well. Here we are. A landmark edition for this column. With this specific edition of the weekly read, I mark the end of the first year of "The View From My Room." In all thus far, I've written, including this one, 50. The other reason this is a momentous week ... the party is officially over. Come Monday morning, the alarm clock will ring, and I'll drag myself over to the clock to turn it off. And the cycle of life will continue on its merry way.
Hello all. Hope you're enjoying the dog days of summer, which, oddly, have not been so doggish. The days have actually been beautiful, which is strange for August, when heat seems to ramp up. However, after our spring, we deserve this. I had a column fully written early in the week for you. I thought it somewhat fun and playful. Once again, I wrote it from my sister's kitchen on my final trip back to my hometown for the summer. I was proud of myself to have it written so early. Then, something happened. Friday night happened. Aug. 9.
There's a certain irony that begins to creep into my life at this time each year. It's no secret the idea of giving up the morning silence and a world free of grading essays is something I don't care to stand up and cheer about. Yet, hard as I might try, my mind begins to head in that direction, and I begin to think about ideas I might attempt in my classroom this year.