I interviewed Tuesday of this week for essentially my dream job: good school, great colleagues, almost no commute, growth potential, great salary, curriculum I actually want to teach, and generally kids I know I will enjoy. (I'll explain why soon.) It is under two weeks from the start of school, so I would have figured they would hire fast. As of 5:00PM on Friday, I had no answer. Maybe they already snagged someone else. Maybe they were still deciding. Maybe they were just waiting to hear from my references. Maybe my current district was fighting back somehow...? Who knows. In any case, I was more or less in panic mode all weel, not because I fear unemployment, but because damn it...this job would make life so much easier and more pleasant, whereas my current job sometimes (actually sort of often) makes me cry. I am not generally a superstitious person, but to get a job that I desperately want - one that presents truly excellent conditions all around - there are a number of things I will shamelessly do.
1. Make an article of clothing. This harkens back to my college days when any challenge - however insignificant or life-altering - was met with the creation of a sigil, some kind of token, or another hand-made receptacle for all the intention I wanted to send in the direction of a particular endeavor. Before I got my current teaching job, I made a ridiculously complicated skirt out of a dozen or so different patched together fabrics. It took days, and remains one of my favorite articles of clothing, despite the fact that the job I made it for turned out so...dubious. This time around, you created some time constraints, so I kept it simple and just made a simple skirt out of dragon and phoenix patterned brocade.
2. Acquire a Ganesh. He has been my guy for a number of years, and we happen to have a number of shops around that sell pretty neat Ganesh sculptures, jewelry, images, etc... Your little green Ganesh came from a shop downtown, and I'm still pretty convinced that him hanging out by your bed is one of the few things that made me feel safe/sane leaving you in the hospital. I don't necessarily need to buy a Ganesh; it can be a drawing, an online image, something borrowed from a friend, or whatever. This time around, I opted for a fairly actively posed Ganesh from one of the weird import stores in Portland with lots of gold and green all over him, and he will live in my classroom forever and ever and ever. (And ever.)
3. Paint my toenails. I find that identifying a somehow significant color and painting it onto my body makes me feel more actively engaged in the process of getting whatever it is I'm trying to get. Sure, I'm sitting on the couch eating ice cream at 10:00 at night while I wait for the alarm to go off to remind us to give your 11:00 meds, and I haven't moved anything more than my arms in the last two hours, but my toes are red...like the school colors...and passion...and...er...the insides of tenth graders...?
4. Buy earrings. I bought earrings before I went to tour Bard, which almost immediately preceded my applying to the college. I bought earrings before my moderation panel, and apparently did a spectacular job. I bought earrings before my senior project panel, and actually before graduation just a few weeks later. I bought earrings before interviewing for my first teaching job. (Incidentally, I did NOT buy earrings before I got my current job, which I can only think means SOMETHING, but what I cannot say.) So...I bought earrings while I was out with your Uncle Cameron last weekend. They are shiny big spirals and I really like them.
5. Sort of creepily drive past the place of potential employment and yell at the building. This was SUPER convenient for this particular job, as the school is just a few blocks from home, but really no less weird than if I had to travel farther. Basically, the technique is this: I drive past the building at a normal speed, and loudly announce to it that it will give me a job. I do not bargain, I do not mince words, and I do not offer any reason for why I deserve the job in question. I simply state that I should have it. I think a construction worker saw this happen on Wednesday, and he definitely did not know what to do about it. Maybe I should only do this with jobs that aren't a few blocks from where I live...
6. FREAK THE F*CK OUT. Inevitably, invariably, and with frustrating certainty, I will freak out after a job interview so badly that some amount of time (ranging between a few hours and a few days) is completely lost to self-doubt, overanalysis of the interview/application/how I smelled that day/etc..., and fairly crippling depression over what I eventually determine to be my failure. Every damn time, I get a certain amount of time past the interview and decide that I have not gotten the job. It is then that I launch myself into a spiral of self-loathing that only really resolves when I get the job in question. If I don't completely lose my bananas for at least a little while, nothing happens. If I demolish my self-confidence, ruin my sleep and eating cycles, and generally become a loathsome bore to all my loved ones, I get the job.
After four days of waiting, at 5:30PM on the Friday before the week before school starts, I was offered the job. Yes, your Dad was about ready to lock me in the bathroom to cry quietly in the bath tub, fully clothed, with the water running. Yes, I was gearing up to add a loop past the school to every errand I had to run, regardless of whether that errand was in that direction or even as far away. Yes, I had bought, worn, and surrounded myself with everything I needed to supposedly ensure success. I have a very weird sixth sense about this sort of thing, and as much I seemed to have lost faith and gained both doubt and loathing, I kind of knew from the beginning that this would work out. So, I guess I have to add to the list...
7. Know the outcome in advance. Hudson, there are some things I just know. I just knew when I had found the right college, I just knew that your Dad and I were meant to be together (awwwww...), I just knew when I applied to grad school that I would get in, I just knew that you were a boy, I just knew that you were ultimately going to be okay, I just knew we weren't going to wait long for your heart, and I just knew that I would get this job. I really need to learn to trust my gut and possibly skip that pesky step #6, but if I did, would everything still work?
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Monday, September 5, 2011
I don't wanna.
If you're anything like either of your parents, Batman, you will both dread and be irrationally excited about the first day of school. I'm pretty sure this is a normal way of approaching the beginning of a ten month long experience that is, on many levels, comparable to a Chuck-E-Cheese birthday party. You're justifiably scared to touch or be touched by most of the people and objects there, the food sucks (unless you bring your own, which you sometimes have to sneak in or face ridicule for bringing), there are threatening people everywhere, and you're more or less trapped until it's over with no one but the few other sane individuals there for company until the party is deemed over. Wow...that makes my job sound terrible. It's really not that bad, and school actually is fun! I swear! Perhaps what I really meant is that going to school is like being both the disgruntled parent at a Chuck-E-Cheese birthday party AND the hyperactively excited child who legitimately wants to be there. Yes. That makes me want to cry much less.
Many of the things NOT to be excited about are obvious. Suddenly, there is going to be work to do. All the time. There will be sixty-something little human beings dependent on me for not only vital literacy skill development (no pressure there), but also for advocacy, emotional support, and compassion for the fact that they are basically hormone grenades in assorted stages of peppering one another with psychological shrapnel. I have some coworkers who, to use the kindest terminology possible, are less than awesome, and they happen to be some of the people I need to deal with the most. The self-conscious questions of "do these people actually like me," "am I actually doing a good job," "how can I actually follow through on everything," and "how the hell am I going to keep myself sane through all of this?" have already been weighing on me for weeks, if not months.
One of my biggest worries is being focused on the "right things," whatever those may be. One of the truly beautiful aspects of this summer was being able to focus almost exclusively on you, Batman. Even when I was feeling totally crappy, I could spend basically all of a day plopped on the couch, hand over where I assumes you were floating, and just think positive thoughts at us both. It was absolutely fine to spend hours of a day reading pregnancy blogs and birth stories, or anal-retentively researching potential additions to your absurdly carefully composed registry. I've been feeling you wiggle around since about week fifteen (at least I'm almost positive it wasn't just gas in the beginning), so now as we approach week nineteen (holy crap), I'm pretty fixated on all those little kicks and pops. I'm bummed that your Dad can't feel them yet; they're so sporadic that I can't even get my own hand to the right spot by the time you've stopped, even less get him across the room and onto my tummy. I'm pretty positive I won't need to stop teaching at any point to say "Ooh! Kicks! Check it out!" even though there definitely will be girls who would LOVE to get their hands on you, but I am worried that I will be so distracted by your very existence that paying attention to the kids I get PAID to pay attention to will become a challenge.
So, what's so good about starting a new school year? Back to school shopping!!! New clothes are a major bonus...assuming you have a wonderfully loving grandparent or parent who is willing to take you clothes shopping. When you have to pay for these exciting new duds yourself, some of the thrill is sucked away from the experience. New school supplies are ALWAYS exciting, regardless of who is footing the bill. I'm not going to even attempt to downplay my irrational passion for school supplies, because doing so would be like trying to tell a giraffe that they are not tall. It would be irrational and a lie. Your father and I both get this glazed-over, hazy, small-child-on-Pixie-Sticks-style twinkle of excitement in our eyes when we enter an office supply store. We practically get a buzz off the smell of fresh paper and just-opened boxes of pens and pencils, and the tinkle of paperclips through our fingers is like the bells on Santa's sleigh. I don't exaggerate. Watch us sometime. You'll be charmingly embarrassed.
Of course, there are more intangible things to be excited about, too. Even though I was never any sort of popular kid, I loved coming back to school to see how the score would settle out this year. Who pulled their head out of their ass over the summer, and who stuck theirs up there? Who is coming back sobered and mature, and who had one of those awful hormone surges that will make them absolutely intolerable? Frankly, these dichotomous changes are EXACTLY the same from age five through age...er...retired. Some coworkers are substantially awesomer than I remembered them to be (although my being pregnant may have something to do with their more cuddly natures), and some people might as well be threatening wedgies and writing nasty notes about other kids on the bathroom walls. Yay human nature.
I am more than a little excited about all the attention I'll get. Yeah, I know...for someone who embarrasses as easily as I do, and for someone who dislikes being the center of attention so much, I think I can easily shift the focus from myself to you. I'M not the one being praised for completing simple tasks competently despite being pregnant: YOU'RE the one being lauded for allowing me to retain some degree of competence. I'M not the one that random coworkers seem disposed to attempt to force-feed: YOU'RE the one to whom they want to give those extra baked goods and candy. Being pregnant in a school means the Nosy Nelly-style streams of critical advice, but (as I've been told, and can only hope is true) much more sedate students and an endless fountain of maternal/paternal words of encouragement. I'm working off previous experience and shared advice here, but I'm really keeping my fingers crosses that things are just generally easier enough that my total lack of focus (ooh, look, something shiny!) balances things out.
This may all be childlike optimism, but Batman, that optimism is just about all that gets human beings to walk back through the doors of a school come September.
Many of the things NOT to be excited about are obvious. Suddenly, there is going to be work to do. All the time. There will be sixty-something little human beings dependent on me for not only vital literacy skill development (no pressure there), but also for advocacy, emotional support, and compassion for the fact that they are basically hormone grenades in assorted stages of peppering one another with psychological shrapnel. I have some coworkers who, to use the kindest terminology possible, are less than awesome, and they happen to be some of the people I need to deal with the most. The self-conscious questions of "do these people actually like me," "am I actually doing a good job," "how can I actually follow through on everything," and "how the hell am I going to keep myself sane through all of this?" have already been weighing on me for weeks, if not months.
One of my biggest worries is being focused on the "right things," whatever those may be. One of the truly beautiful aspects of this summer was being able to focus almost exclusively on you, Batman. Even when I was feeling totally crappy, I could spend basically all of a day plopped on the couch, hand over where I assumes you were floating, and just think positive thoughts at us both. It was absolutely fine to spend hours of a day reading pregnancy blogs and birth stories, or anal-retentively researching potential additions to your absurdly carefully composed registry. I've been feeling you wiggle around since about week fifteen (at least I'm almost positive it wasn't just gas in the beginning), so now as we approach week nineteen (holy crap), I'm pretty fixated on all those little kicks and pops. I'm bummed that your Dad can't feel them yet; they're so sporadic that I can't even get my own hand to the right spot by the time you've stopped, even less get him across the room and onto my tummy. I'm pretty positive I won't need to stop teaching at any point to say "Ooh! Kicks! Check it out!" even though there definitely will be girls who would LOVE to get their hands on you, but I am worried that I will be so distracted by your very existence that paying attention to the kids I get PAID to pay attention to will become a challenge.
So, what's so good about starting a new school year? Back to school shopping!!! New clothes are a major bonus...assuming you have a wonderfully loving grandparent or parent who is willing to take you clothes shopping. When you have to pay for these exciting new duds yourself, some of the thrill is sucked away from the experience. New school supplies are ALWAYS exciting, regardless of who is footing the bill. I'm not going to even attempt to downplay my irrational passion for school supplies, because doing so would be like trying to tell a giraffe that they are not tall. It would be irrational and a lie. Your father and I both get this glazed-over, hazy, small-child-on-Pixie-Sticks-style twinkle of excitement in our eyes when we enter an office supply store. We practically get a buzz off the smell of fresh paper and just-opened boxes of pens and pencils, and the tinkle of paperclips through our fingers is like the bells on Santa's sleigh. I don't exaggerate. Watch us sometime. You'll be charmingly embarrassed.
Of course, there are more intangible things to be excited about, too. Even though I was never any sort of popular kid, I loved coming back to school to see how the score would settle out this year. Who pulled their head out of their ass over the summer, and who stuck theirs up there? Who is coming back sobered and mature, and who had one of those awful hormone surges that will make them absolutely intolerable? Frankly, these dichotomous changes are EXACTLY the same from age five through age...er...retired. Some coworkers are substantially awesomer than I remembered them to be (although my being pregnant may have something to do with their more cuddly natures), and some people might as well be threatening wedgies and writing nasty notes about other kids on the bathroom walls. Yay human nature.
I am more than a little excited about all the attention I'll get. Yeah, I know...for someone who embarrasses as easily as I do, and for someone who dislikes being the center of attention so much, I think I can easily shift the focus from myself to you. I'M not the one being praised for completing simple tasks competently despite being pregnant: YOU'RE the one being lauded for allowing me to retain some degree of competence. I'M not the one that random coworkers seem disposed to attempt to force-feed: YOU'RE the one to whom they want to give those extra baked goods and candy. Being pregnant in a school means the Nosy Nelly-style streams of critical advice, but (as I've been told, and can only hope is true) much more sedate students and an endless fountain of maternal/paternal words of encouragement. I'm working off previous experience and shared advice here, but I'm really keeping my fingers crosses that things are just generally easier enough that my total lack of focus (ooh, look, something shiny!) balances things out.
This may all be childlike optimism, but Batman, that optimism is just about all that gets human beings to walk back through the doors of a school come September.
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