Kindergarten Cop.
In a nutshell (a tiny, booger-infested, suffocating nutshell), I taught kindergarten. I substituted for a friend, despite my better judgement. I knew that teaching kindergarten was hell on earth…and she taught in Inglewood (drinking 40s, smoking blunts, and stabbing people with broken shards of glass is pretty much the norm), otherwise known as Downtown Shadyville. The school/kindergarten I taught at was called “Downtown Value”…doesn’t that sound like a hardware store or something?
I, as you know, am a short, chubby, Asian girl with glasses. I am not scary. I am not in-your-face with the ghetto fabulousness. These areas do not scare me. I don’t give a shit about the “Dangerous Minds” type of students that often give me the evil eye or tell me that they want “2 choice – orange chicken and sweet and sour pork”. Whenever I teach high schoolers, it is business as usual. Normally, I would casually show them the middle finger and walk away…often times after I spray them with Mace.
On the other hand, I cannot (legally) spray 4 yr. olds with Mace or show them the middle finger. I’m not allowed to slap a ho or kick a dick. I’m contractually obligated to mind my Ps and Qs. Also, I have never, ever taught kindergarten before. Hell, I don’t even like to babysit anyone younger than 17.
So I wake up at the butt-crack of dawn (5:00am) and get ready. Class starts at 7:30am. I find the school fairly easily (I just followed the sounds of gunshots and crying babies) and park my car. The school is situated underneath a freeway overpass and two miles west of Skid Row. I cringe. I park my car and lock it. I walk two blocks and rush back to my car to make sure I locked it. I walk away and pray that my hubcaps will still be there when I return. I pray that my car will still be there when I return.
I walk to the school and in 5 minutes am surrounded by really, really ugly kids running around the yard. Okay…they weren’t all ugly…just the majority. I hear screams and parents yelling for their kids to “shut the fuck up! Or they’ll get it at home”. I hear my stomach gurgling. I hear the crows cawing and death breathing down my neck.
I head over to the classroom and shake my head as I see red paint (or blood) smeared all over the walls. I smell glue, cheetos, and bug spray. I sit down and wait. I felt like a gladiator waiting to enter the lion’s den. I see a rush of rugrats racing into the classroom like a stampede of diseased cattle.
My knees shake. I introduce myself. The kids introduce themselves (tongue showing, middle finger waving, paper ball throwing). I start the lesson. They ignore me. The day progresses and everything is a blur. The only thing I remember is walking out of the building after school is dismissed and smiling as I felt the sun shine upon my face. I also remember some kids eating wood chips, stealing gold fish crackers, peeing on themselves, pooing on themselves, biting each other, and narking on each other. I do NOT want to have kids.
I will adopt the 17 1/2 yr. old Italian boy of my dreams. Anyways, kindergarten is like a bad prison movie. I was scared, tortured, and ridiculed. On the bright side, my car was not stolen and my hubcaps were intact.
I can pretty much say without hyperbole…that kindergarten is hell…absolute hell.
