Saturday, October 10, 2009

Minimums

It was my third day teaching in the same middle school. A bit of a novelty to have such consistency. I was covering a teacher who has been out often for meetings, and is working with a student teacher - someone who fell to my watch. Today, after one of the last classes, a heavy-set girl had words with the student teacher about me. The young teacher explained to me later how this particular girl had trouble with female subs. This particular girl had also waltzed in late, whilst the young teacher was talking announcing something - a double disruption. And you think the girl has a problem with female teachers?

And then, I catch myself. I used to not be such a proud teacher. I'm not sure where this has come from, but while I scramble for a living, scramble to keep together some sort of dignity - I realize I'm trying to stand on what I was, what I accomplished, because I feel no pride in who I am now. Who I am seems to hold little value in relation to the present. I can't help feel angry. Angry at the things lost. Things not gained. Things at a standstill. Maybe, mostly I'm angry at myself for not taking adversity by those thorny horns and showing it who's boss.

I sat in an interview today to work for 6 hours a week at the community center for eight dollars an hour. I sat and smiled a small phony smile (which, by the way, I'm not very good at), while the director explained the history of the community center, the best and worst of it. His only questions were if I had any questions. I had a couple of questions that simply repeated bits of the thousands of bits of information that he had prattled off to me. And that was it. There were no personal questions. I had waited 15 minutes for the interview to begin, and then, the public service announcement was over, informed that I would be told Monday (after 7 other interviews), whether I would had the job.

Then, I went to my volunteer job (is it still volunteer when done with such resentment?). I am supposed to be in charge of the afterschool care. I arrive to the masses running around outside. Sometimes there is a teacher outside, sometimes there is none. I ask, "Who's here with me?" And everyone conintues running around and playing. Then I go all Tasmanian-Devil on them, tearing up the grass and most yell, "My mom's in the parking lot over there!" because the kids' parents are charged by the school if with me passed a certain time. The kids continue to play and run around, I learn that two are with me, and one takes off before I get her name. Tolga says,
"You're like a shepard, but the sheep don't know you."


No kidding.

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