The Shittiest Rainbow

Posted: April 27, 2009 in sad teaching stories, wife


Leprechaun is in da HIZZY!!!!

The Irish aren’t very good at hip-hop.

But that’s not what this is about.

My wife teaches at an inner-city school.

(queue music from that movie with Michelle Pfeiffer as a teacher in that rough school)

Mmmm.

Pfeiffer.

Sorry.

But you can’t argue that Pfeiffer she’s not Pfeiffer worth interrupting Pfeiffer your thoughts.

Pfeiffer.


So my wife came home from work the other day and said to me:

“You know…some things just don’t work in this school.”

I assumed she meant “speaking English,” or “not getting pregnant by age 7,” or “killing another student for his fine, fine treads, yo.”

Kindergarten is tough these days.

ABC’s?

More like:

ABCDef…fuck this shit an’ HAND OVER THE WALLET, BE-ATCH!.

I may or may not have just yelled that out loud here at work.

Oh. Look.

Human Resources is here.

Looks like “out loud” was probably the correct answer.

Fuck.


Back to the story.

So, my wife was referring to one of the activities she gave her kindergartners to do to teach them about colors and their individuality as people.

The activity is called:

The Rainbow of Me

Awwww.

That’s just fucking precious.

The kids get a blank drawing of a rainbow.

They then have to color it in using the colors of certain things about them and make their very own “personalized rainbow.”

So each section of the rainbow has a different thing about the child, like:

1) Favorite color
2) Color of their skin
3) Color of their eyes
4) Favorite color
5) Color of their hair

Normally…this is a good activity.

NORMALLY.

Remember where my wife teaches?

Yep.

Inner-city school.

So, here’s what she got:

(click to enlarge…that’s what she said)


Um.

Jeez, Yamilex…

(Really?…Yamilex…? It sounds like a fucking anti-depressant)

Might colorful picture you got there.

Let’s try another one:


Jesus Christ.

That rainbow is a sea of fucking brownness.

Adding insult to injury…

Liam here decides that the brown construction paper is the best way to go for mounting purposes.

Nice call, Liam.

You see, my wife neglected to realize when she passed this out…

…that all her students are Puerto Rican or Dominican.

A melting pot? Sure.

A melting pot of chocolately, cocoa goodness!

These Puerto Rican girls won’t have flaming dyed red hair until they’re at least 12 or so.

Maybe they should redo the rainbow activity then.

Or let their kids do it.

They’ll have three of them by that age.

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