Job Satisfaction

(n)
Realizing that, even though first-quarter grades are due tomorrow and you still have thirty-five projects to grade and you share a workspace with three other people who like to chat,

.....not to mention the lunch room for the entire Department, which happens to be standing behind you yelling things like WHY DID THE SCHOOL BUY THIS GRADEBOOK SOFTWARE? and WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CATCHER IN THE RYE IS OFF THE CURRICULUM???

......and you also have to type out and turn in all of your lesson plans from the past two weeks tomorrow too, and you only have a third of them done, but apparantly MAKE SURE YOU COME SEE MY BAND PLAY ON FRIDAY is very important to talk about right now...

.....and kids are coming to dump more work in your lap because they suddenly realized that maybe a 30% isn't the grade they want to show their Moms, and maybe their English teacher wants to read this fist-full of crumpled homework from four weeks ago....

....even though really bad school pizza was for lunch today...

...at least I'm not getting a talking-to for folding pizza boxes too fast and making the other box people look bad. At least my work related problems do not involve pulling globs of pork fat out of a sink drain.

*sigh*
This is the life.

Faith...

....works.

*so. happy.*

I actually saw the whole thing the other night; Carl couldn't handle the idea of just turning off the TV and going to sleep????

So we watched. And had a hell of a day yesterday. But it was worth it.

Vigilance

Those of you who have ever flown somewhere and had the thought cross your mind that the plane's engines were definitely going to explode, plunging you 40,000 feet to your fiery, depressurized doom; I have a question for you. Were you seated over a wing?

And while watching that metal blade slice through the clouds and the heat of it's passage distort the displaced air, were you ever seized with the absolute certainty that if you took your eyes off that wing for even a millisecond, the wing would surely snap off?

I have flown many times. I have flown ten times the number of elections in which I have voted. Tell me, frequent voters. If you take your eyes off the TV; fiery doom? I didn't think so four years ago...but then...

...and now, I am very sleepy, and after all, we don't vote by Neilson ratings...

Are you aware that most airplane parts are not bolted, nailed, stapled or screwed together, but glued?

Dear America,
I'm going to count to ten. When I open my eyes-you know what I want to see.
I have faith.
Love,
Mo

October

It's been a busy October for us. We've all been working hard and squeezing as much family time as possible into the weekends. We've managed to do some cool Autumn harvesty type things, like drink cider and hug pumpkins,


...and Carl and I even mustered all of our collective creative energy to get a costume together for Wendy. Behold! The butterfly costume from Old Navy!


I didn't say our creative juices amounted to much. Hey, we had to choose between the butterfly, the kitty cat, and the poodle. You try to make that decision before lunch, surrounded by swarms of snarky moms and cranky kids, all rabid for spectacular Old Navy Halloween deals!

Wendy did love the Trick-or-Treating, though. As soon as she realized that she would get TREETS! LOOK DADDY! I GOT TREETS! just by knocking on doors, she was all about it. Her favorite Halloween treat is candy corn. Weird kid.


She got a good haul for someone so short. We came home with that black bucket filled to the top. We-I mean she made out pretty good!

Tentatively....

I find myself in a conundrum.

Day in and day out, I experience countless situations that I would normally blog about in a heartbeat. There are the caricatures I could draw of the other teachers in my department. There are the endless moments of absurd bureaucracy that rival and often outshine any Office Space moments I ever had back at H & R Crock. (For example, the observation that an administrator scheduled for tomorrow, and then canceled after I spent all weekend preparing for it.) And the students. Oh. Oh the humanity. I would normally be blogging all of them til my fingers bled, there are so many gorgeous, mockable moments.

But I can't. Because talking about that sort of thing online...isn't that the sort of thing that can get you canned faster than a dolphin in a tuna net?

OMG, my people. I actually have a job that I don't want to get fired from.

I'll loosen up soon. I'm sure. I'll stop looking over my shoulder, expecting it to all be taken away and to wake up delivering pizza again.

I can tell you about how I am a "floater-" a designation just as awesome as it sounds. For those of you not in the know, being a "floater" means that I am one of the teachers without a room of her own, who travels from class to borrowed class, pushing all of her materials around on a cart. Only I don't even get a cart, because my rooms are downstairs and my "office" is upstairs, and although pushing a cart full of homework and office supplies down the stairs would be fun...you get the gist.

I put "office" in quotes there, because my "office" is actually a space shared with two other floaters, and also the department lunch room/lounge. Hells yeah. I'm movin on up.

Really, though, all of that is so low on my give-a-shit-o-meter. First-year teachers with classrooms, first-year teachers with a carts, and me? We all get paid the same. It doesn't really matter. I would probably find the cart kind of humiliating anyway. Eff em.

I goes where I please. (provided that it's 4th or 7th period. those are my drinking coffee and eating donuts periods.)

I'll tell you a good story as soon as I can think of one appropriate enough. I promise.

In Complete Contrast...

Dear internets,

When last we spoke I was feeling very disheartened. Sad. Desperate. Yes, even bitter. But that was two weeks ago, and I feel much better now due to recent developments that I haven't had very much time to sit and write about. I haven't had time to sit still for long at all. Because of my new job.

My new job at a school.

Where I now teach.

*does jig of joy*

I would like to sit and type all about it right now, but as you know, teachers (like me) get up early. And when teachers (like me) also have babies who still wake up at night, teachers (like me) are very very tired and want to go to bed at nine thirty. Which was twelve minutes ago.

I love you internets. I am not edgy or witty or interesting tonight, mostly because right now, I am too busy being happy.

Love,
Mo
xoxoxoxoxo

More Adventures of the UnEmployable

My job search involves one of those catch-22 situations.

They all want to hire someone with more experience, which I can't get unless someone hires me. I thought that some of my other interviews went well. No drippy squirrels or wardrobe malfunctions. I thought that some of them were actually pretty good.

I know it's egotistical to watch TV and see the stock market crashing and big banks going out of business and the unbelievable polls showing McCain ahead 6% and feel that of course all of these things would happen. What else would happen on a Monday when I was positive that one of my interviews would call me back, but no one did. What other kind of day could there be in a world that lets me think that I can use my many thousands of dollars worth of college education to provide for my family so that maybe we can pay the oil bills and pay off some debt and buy this house and not be so consumed by angst every single day; but then sees to it that no one calls me?

Bitter.

I'm sorry, internets.

Mo is bitter today.

Wherin I Prove Myself Classy.

Things to do at an interview to impress people (or possibly show that you are a tacky and horrible person):

1. When asked why you want to teach, reply "for the money." (Funny, right? I thought so.)
2. Wear only suit Monday. Go in to unexpected second interview on Tuesday morning wearing gray pants and button down blue shirt, looking like a Circuit City employee.
3. Arrive soaking wet because you forgot your umbrella, had to park in the back of the building, and just ran across two parking lots through drenching rain. Talk to lots of suits about your "love of literature" looking like a frizzy, drippy squirrel.
4. Realize that zipper is down and stealthily adjust the issue when principal in suit turns his back. Realize that secretary mostly likely saw you do that. (silently vow to burn these pants)
5. Ask blunt question about the school's system of rigorous testing using the phrase "chafe under restrictions."

Interviews suck.

The Mall. It's Like, TOO Much Fun.

Us: We are not buying you seventy dollar sneakers.
Her: But I need shoes.
Us: Not for seventy dollars you don't. Maybe forty or fifty. We can look somewhere else.
Her: *huff* Well, I'm. Like. NOT. Getting shoes. From...Payless. *huff*
Us: Cool. I guess we can go home then.

And we did.

We did not, however, spend that fifty dollars on bottles of wine and crab legs, like we were seriously tempted to do. Because we are good parental units and not yet driven to spiting a teenager, no matter how temporarily gratifying that might be.

You Have to Respect the Argument.

I am continually amazed at how sophisticated kid's opinions can be concerning complex topics. I really think people underestimate a child's ability to navigate the subtleties of social and political points of view and come up with their own substantial and often well articulated arguments.

For example, we took Wendy to the playground today for a Labor Day picnic, and I overheard this conversation between two boys who looked to be about ten:

"Who are you voting for?"
"Easy. Obama's got big ears, but Palin is totally hot. I'm a rebumlican now."

And this, my friends, is why I want to teach. Constant intellectual conversation.