🎓 Binder Crimes and Admin Lies: How One Teacher Survived a Surprise Ambush

So there I was, minding my own prep period—my legally protected time to plan, prep, or—oh I don’t know—not be emotionally waterboarded by a mediocre administrator with a superiority complex.

But of course, AH (short for Administrator Hero) had other plans. He called me into his office with no warning, like I was being summoned to Mount Doom for a binder-based inquisition.

👔 The Accusation: “You Want to Fail Students”

Let’s be clear: I’ve been grading student binders the same way for six years. No surprises. No complaints. No lawsuits. Just good old-fashioned academic accountability. But this year, somehow, my system is suddenly “concerning.”

According to AH, my grading method shows that I “want to fail students.” Yes. That was a real sentence said by a real adult in charge of evaluating teachers.

Not that my system needs improvement. Not that there’s a better strategy. Nope. Full villain arc. Intentional academic sabotage. Muahahaha.

And then, just when I thought the performance was over, he drops the line:

“You’re a bad teacher.”

Not, “Here’s some feedback.” Not, “Let’s look at student data.” Just a blanket judgment. Like he pulled it off a fortune cookie written by an underpaid ed tech consultant.

🔁 The Broken Record

When I pointed out—politely, mind you—that he was repeating himself, he just… repeated himself louder. Because in his mind, if his point isn’t landing, it must be a volume issue.

There I was, asking to respond like an adult in a conversation, and he was escalating like we were in the final round of a WWE match called “Binder Slam: Admin Edition.”

So finally, I said: “I don’t know how to make you happy.”

And the thing is—I do know how to make him happy. I don’t want to. Because it would mean giving up my professional autonomy in exchange for a sticker on my forehead that says “I obey.”

And that’s not teaching. That’s just theatrics with paperwork.

Let’s be honest: AH doesn’t want better grading. He wants compliance. He wants to feel like his idea was so revelatory that I’d abandon six years of professional practice and fall to my knees thanking him for saving my students from evil binder points.

🧾 The Title I Twist

But wait—because why stop there?—he throws in a little legal drama:

“We’re a Title I school. You can’t require students to bring their own supplies.”

I’m sorry, what?

Here’s the actual deal:

• ✅ I can’t penalize students for not bringing supplies. Totally true.

• ✅ I can encourage families to send materials when they’re able.

• ✅ I do provide backup supplies for any student who needs them.

So no, asking students to bring a pencil is not a violation of the Geneva Convention. It’s just... being a teacher. In a classroom. With actual logistical needs.

📧 Operation: Cover-Your-Behind

After that inspiring little tirade, I did what any veteran educator with a migraine and a file folder full of receipts would do:

• ✅ I sent a calm, ice-cold email confirming I’ll implement his “suggested” changes.

• ✅ I clarified—politely, professionally—that I always provide supplies to students in need.

• ✅ I requested a new evaluator from the principal, because if I wanted to be talked over, misrepresented, and scolded for no reason, I’d go argue with the copy machine.

The emails were written in a tone I like to call: “I’m being nice, but you’re on thin ice.” Translation: I’m documenting this entire interaction in case I need to defend my pedagogy while crying in the parking lot.

🎤 Final Thoughts: From Binders to Battle Scars

Here’s the moral of the story:

I’m not a bad teacher because an administrator with a God complex told me so. I’m not trying to fail students. And I’m definitely not violating federal law because I asked for a hole punch.

I’m just a teacher. Doing my job. In a system that sometimes mistakes power for professionalism.

So yes—I’ll grade binder pages as warm-ups. I’ll restock my pencil cup. I’ll send the email. But if someone tries to make me feel small for refusing to turn my classroom into a compliance circus, just remember:

Theatrics with paperwork isn’t teaching. It’s just admin cosplay.