apparently, I hate myself

I will not do the after-school program. It's too much work for no payoff, the kids are just whacked, and I'd have to deal with the Sociopath. Besides, the logistics of speeding from one school to another with no prep time in a borrowed room...it makes me cringe. Plus, I write a brilliant curriculum every time--no, really!--only to watch my lessons fall apart because attendance is spotty, I can't assign homework, and the kids who are there only show up because they're made to. They eat their free snack, socialize, ignore the lesson and ask me to give them things. Anything. They want art supplies, they want books, they want my drawings, as long as they don't have to pay for it. I am a softie in that department, because although I grew up poor, my dad would always make sure we had paper to draw on and some decent markers/ pastels/ watercolor pencils. I have shelled out no end of my own cash to buy kids sketchbooks, paints, brushes, you name it. I gave these kids everything I could for the last three semesters...then I realized they were playing me. There's one girl who sketches independently, and she comes from a family with nine kids. She uses what I give her, so I keep her well-supplied. All the rest of 'em just take what they can because it's free. They won't sketch, they won't write, they won't even do the assignments. Screw that.

So what happened? I got roped into doing two days a week of the afterschool program, because they're lacking art people. Hmm, I wonder why. (Why are there no emoticons for syrupy sarcasm? O yes, that's right, emoticons are wretched and awful.) I thought I had hardened myself sufficiently to call the shots in this area of my life. Yes, I would do almost anything for my grant coordinator, who was my first friend in this shithole, but I thought that "almost" meant "but not that lousy afterschool nightmare".

True, I'm in a rough place financially, and this would take a little pressure off, but the added stress is really not something I need. They really buttered me up, too, telling me how kids are asking for me as a teacher, what a great rapport I have, no one else can do it...actually, it's that no one else WANTS to do it. The Sociopath sees herself as an instrumental part in this program, and just keeps micromanaging more and more, and she's utterly clueless. Thus, the great teachers are being driven away, and the decent pay is attracting the townsfolk, thus we wind up with classes on Scrapbooking and Acrylic Nails. This is just blissful to the Sociopath, as she feels that the kids need something they can relate to, taught by people they can relate to (read: people like her).

Why, then? This is a new zenith of self-loathing. Damn this rainy weather.