Vignettes

Here are some vignettes from my life over the last two weeks since I have not had the time to keep everyone updated as I wish. Or really reflect online like I want to.


Ms. Timon, the principal, stood in front of me with an assignment I gave that afternoon to write a persuasive letter. If her frown was any bigger it would have connected again below her chin and she would have swallowed her own face. I had assigned the letter 2 minutes after I had explained freedom of speech and the power of word choice- my kids must have heard- swear a lot. It read. "I am sorry I couldn't fucking do the damn assignment. My fucking dad died, and he was freaking shot in the fucking head. I wanted to kill the bastard that did that fucking shit..." Sometimes I am not a good teacher. Almost always, my principal is there when this happens on the macro scale. Good thing I am so smart and good looking otherwise i would think I was cursed with bad luck :)


With 4 minutes left in our meeting during lunch on Tuesday, Ms. Timon said, "oh yeah, and next week Mr. Brossart and Mr. Maddox will be no longer switching students, they are to be self contained." I had to feign shock and slight disapproval as my insides screamed "Hell Yeah Aunt Katy!!!" as loudly and happily as a blond boy in a cut off t-shirt and jort overalls seeing a gator weighing.


The door was slid open by a bearded man in a red visored helmet. He smiled at us, leaned out, leaned back in and then fell out of the plane at 14,000 feet. The wind was cold and the man strapped to my back said it was our turn. At that point I was wondering if I peed myself while I fell if my terminal velocity was faster than my urine's. Then after leaning out, leaning in, leaning out and falling away from the airplane I realized what I wanted to do this summer. We rotated and I saw the horizon rushing closer and closer and felt more peaceful than I ever could have imagined while strapped to a dude named "Boston" and having very recently having fallen out of an airplane.


My ACP advisor leaned back in her chair. This signaled for me to get comfortable, she was going to lecture me again. During class, while I should have been monitoring to make sure my kids were focused on learning. And if they were focused, I wanted to make sure they were doing it at least close to correctly. I settled in and she said, "Mr. Brossart, when we first met I had you pegged as just another clown. Now, well I can see you are one of the best interns- you have the makings of an intern of the year." Not bad. If I am going to be missing valuable instructional time I might as well be flattered.


John Glenn, who is now over magic and officially obsessing over ninjas, told a kid not to fight him because I told him that they weren't allowed to. This marks the first and only time he to date he had ever obeyed a teachers instructions that didn't immediately pertain to his grade. Bells rang, trumpets sang, and it felt like I had just high fived God.



They only had bald wig-caps for black people, and because of that I was kneeling on the floor of the kitchen at a friends house with a pillow in my mouth and a double shot of vodka in my stomach. The floor was cold. It was 11:30 at night. I had to be at school for conferences in 7 hours. I still had a lot of work to do. The pillow in my mouth didn't allow me to remind those I was with of this. I also didn't have that long to think about it. Because seconds later I had a safety pin shoved through my ear into a potato. Sure it was conference time. Sure I was way behind and sleep deprived. That doesn't take away the sweetness of the idea of googling how to pierce my own ear, doing it with two soon to be even closer friends and nearly completing my plan b costume of being a pirate. Now all I had to do was find some mascara for my beard.


The sunset on the roof of my building was breathtaking, heart breaking, and beautiful. I was smiling. My boys had just finally done it! SJU rugby was going to the final 4 for the Midwest, after 3 years of losing in the sweet 16. SJU rugby had broken the hump and was a powerhouse. Nationally ranked in Goff on rugby and peaking they sounded incredible. And as I watch the sunset I had to fight feelings as ugly as the sunset was beautiful. That was my fucking title, and Baits' and my hard work that got them the chance to reach that goal. He and I never got to reach that height, and now I have to smile and cheer from 3000 miles away while knowing I can't be a part of it, and wishing with too much of my soul that I could have done that. And somehow, even knowing I am loved, I can't shake the feelings of envy and wish I didn't want so bad for someone to call and thank me for the chance they have...
The sun disappears and a friend appears to remind me in the dusk that I am a teacher now. Helping things grow and then having them succeed without me is my job. Get used to it. Nay, thrive on it.


Conferences drain the energy of almost any teacher, and mine became an impromptu HA meeting for recovering Heroine Addicts. Twice. Both ended in hugs, with hope for a better future eating gently away at the edges of the dispare that heroine and conferences can give a person. That is until I remember I still have a girl that was kidnapped by her own mother and we still don't know where she is.


I have 3 kids that want to be fifth grade teachers now. Sometimes being Mr. B rocks.