tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76605740333850810412024-02-08T09:48:21.405-06:00Where I Has Been.The Comings and Goings of a High School Drama Teacherfancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-88728794455865799282011-02-18T20:11:00.002-06:002011-02-18T20:18:09.991-06:00Student Quote of the DayI have three best girl friends in one of my English classes. Ordinarily they drive me nuts with their incessant need to gossip about boys, shopping, and who knows what else, but every once in a while it's totally worth it. The thing that you need to know is that one of the girls, "Kelly" is bi-racial-<br /><br />Kelly: Mrs. D, did you go tanning?<br /><br />Me: Uuuuh..... no? I've never been tanning in my life.<br /><br />Kelly: You look tanner than usual.<br /><br />Me: Nope, I'm my usual pasty self.<br /><br />Jennifer (to Kelly): Do you tan? You're always so dark.<br /><br />Kelly: No, you idiot. I'm half black.<br /><br />I had to walk away. Quickly. And go talk to another group. If I didn't, I'd have inadvertently laughed in poor Jennifer's face.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-86853089881525338602011-02-13T19:17:00.002-06:002011-02-13T19:31:25.770-06:00Because my job's not hard enough...I've had a really bad week.<br /><br />I'm used to challenges. I just wish they didn't decide to fall into my lap at once. Or be so emotionally charged. Let's just get to the point; this week I was diagnosed with lupus. It makes teaching interesting. Typing and writing is uncomfortable, but since it's been caught early it probably won't get any worse, or go into my organs (which means my sister can keep her kidney- she's thrilled). My students know, or at least know my hands hurt, so they're willing to help pass out papers and whatnot, which helps.<br /><br />The harder challenge is that my mother-in-law, a woman I love dearly, has just been given a very grave diagnosis. To take this job, we moved 4 hours away, and part of me is wracked with guilt over that. We found out on a Friday, so I have to pray I can get through Monday without breaking down in front of my classes.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-30364879039963335372011-02-09T10:49:00.003-06:002011-02-09T18:11:25.672-06:00Student quote of the day<div>Teaching Speech isn't my forte. And the class I have is proving to be especially challenging; because it's an elective, they seem to think they don't have to do the work or can screw around and be disrespectful. the past two weeks have seen me approaching each class period with dread; however, today seemed to be a turning point. They were better behaved, more respectful, and overall made me feel much less homicidal than normal. We're talking about symbols and the meaning behind them. I gave them a worksheet that had the Twittter logo on it. Then this happened:</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike: I hate Twitter.</div> <div> </div> <div>Me: Me too. I never got the appeal.</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike: The logo is like a backwards F.</div> <div> </div> <div>Me: Oh, so it is. I never noticed that.</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike: Yeah, it's like it's making fun of Facebook. And Mark Wahlberg.</div> <div> </div> <div>Me: ::blink blink:: What does the Twitter logo have to do with Mark Wahlberg?</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike: Didn't he invent Facebook or something?</div> <div> </div> <div>Me: ZUCKERberg, dear. Mark Zuckerberg invented Facebook.</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike: Oh. I got my Bergs mixed up. I hear he's a douche. (turns to the German exchange student, Jon) Hey Jon, do you know anyone named Berg in Germany?</div> <div> </div> <div>(Jon looks confused.) </div> <div> </div> <div>Me: Berg is a suffix, Mike.</div> <div> </div> <div>Mike (to Jon): Is there anyone with a name that ends in Berg in Germany?</div> <div> </div> <div>Jon: There are eight million people in Germany. I'm sure there are a few.</div> <div><br /><br /><br /></div> <div>So maybe this class doesn't suck.</div>fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-66494923716463828502011-01-31T08:24:00.002-06:002011-01-31T08:38:57.313-06:00Here's what you missed-Some of the highlights of my job include the mundane day-to-day comings and goings of high school. I like getting to work with teenagers, even though teenagers are, generally, giant hormonal balls of emotions hellbent on driving me insane. That aside, I have a pretty good rapport with my students. They come in in the mornings and are generally chipper and at least talk to me (the girls come into my classroom to use it to primp; I have a wall of floor to ceiling mirrors. It's the highlight of my day).<br /><br />But you know they trust you when the shit hits the fan.<br /><br />The first incident happened during finals week. I had a student OD on pills. In my class. I'm not 100% sure how I handled it; looking back, I know I handled it correctly, by my brain snapped into survival mode and I can't explain the how or the why. About a week later, as I was grading English journals, I found a victim's outcry in a student's journal, which about knocked me over with a feather. I turned it in to the administration like I'm supposed to, and that student was supremely pissed at first, but they've at least calmed down to the point that we can be in the classroom together and I can help on papers, homework, etc. It's been a weird couple of weeks.<br /><br />On an upside, a former student contacted me via Facebook to tell me that she's naming her kid after me. Which is EXACTLY what I needed to hear. I directed her years ago, when I was still doing clinicals for school and she was a senior. She was in a rough patch and I came along at just the right time, I guess. She's expecting her second now, and her baby will have my name as a middle name. Which is the awesomest part of my job.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-36997153853471704002011-01-30T10:08:00.002-06:002011-01-30T10:20:30.492-06:00Okay, so here we go...There's been so much to post, so I did what any sane person would do- I avoided it.<br /><br />There are many reasons why I avoided it. The biggest being that as the job unfolded, events transpired that were not in the job description. Namely, the best parts of the job as it was described to be in the interview, the interview by which I based the decision to uproot my and my husband's entire lives and move to a different STATE, had been given to someone else. The whole deal was very shady and back-door; I was very angry. VERY angry. Like, stormed-into-the-principal's-office-and-demanded-to-know-why-I'm-here angry (hey, I didn't yell and I didn't curse, so all in all I did pretty good). And I'm pretty sure I was lied to on three separate occasions concerning the situation, but I realize that I am a first year teacher. We are pretty dang low on the totem pole 'round these parts. My options were to 1. keep my big mouth shut and keep the job I've been searching for for two friggin years, or 2. take a stand and, while it may be noble and right, noble doesn't pay the bills.<br /><br />It was very hard to resign myself to "defeat". I know it's not defeat, since I still have a job, but it's not the job I thought it was. Ergo, in my mind, it's defeat. Or at least it was. I have a hard time at times accepting that I'm a grown up; all those middle school insecurities come flooding back at times like this and so here I am, the new kid, who thought she was getting her dream job, but sees the best parts going to the popular kids, and those popular kids aren't inviting me to come play.<br /><br />All of this transpired in late August and early September. It's now late January and I'm just now able to let go of all of the negative feelings. I resisted the urge to post here for all these months because I knew that it would be reactionary to the anger and hurt; one could argue that maybe I needed that outlet, but instead my poor husband got the brunt of it. I couldn't bear to put the black feelings into black and white because even if I ended up deleting it later, I would have seen it in print and that makes it all so final.<br /><br />So I learned to let go. It was hard, and it will be hard to see someone else doing what I love, what was promised to me, but I'll get trough it. Lord knows I have enough to keep me distracted.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-42201487284927452812010-08-26T20:53:00.004-05:002010-08-26T21:01:44.998-05:00Never a dull moment.Today we launched right into Theatre History. I warned them all ahead of time that I totally geek out over this stuff. And, true t form, I did. But not because I'm overly enthused about theatre history.<br /><br />I got to explain to them the plot line of Oedipus Rex.<br /><br />The faces on these kids was *priceless*. And the highlight was this exchange:<br /><br />Me: <span class="UIStory_Message">So Oedipus marries the queen and has kids with her. She also happens to be his mother.<br />Student: UGH! That's worse than incest!<br />Me: *blinkblink* Honey, that IS incest.<br />Student: Yeah, but, like, it's so much worse than if it was his sister or brother or something.<br />Me: Uuuuuh.... I don't think think they differentiate. Incest is incest.<br /><br />It took everything in my power to not spout out, "If you can't keep it in your pants, keep it in your family."<br /></span>fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-10047768784952939902010-08-24T13:36:00.003-05:002010-08-24T13:40:14.933-05:00What do I need....1. A bigger desk.<br />2. To never wear heels to school AGAIN (even though I know I will completely ignore this advice with the next cute pair I foolishly justify buying with "Oh! I can teach in these!" No. No I can't).<br />3. My paycheck.<br />4. To be able to print worksheets and not be sent to 6 different people to fix my inability to log on to a computer.<br />5. An instant understanding of EVERYTHING MY COLLUGES ARE TALKING ABOUT. What the hell is a Power Indicater? I have to use them, and I don't know what they are...<br />6. A beer.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-49179957491876419992010-08-24T09:39:00.003-05:002010-08-24T09:40:29.400-05:00I will survive.I made it through Freshman Orientation. Which isn't much of an accomplishment since classes are all of 10 minutes long and they come to me. Though the air conditioner in my room is not working and I'm waering pants and sweating balls.... now more meetings.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-73338396029926344242010-08-23T07:23:00.002-05:002010-08-23T07:25:49.565-05:00I feel like the bottom just fell out. But in a good way.You know that ride at amusement parks that uses <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">centrifugal</span> force to keep you plastered to the wall while the floor drops away? And the whole time you're screaming because you're terrified but enjoying every last minute of it?<br /><br />Today's my first faculty institute. Tomorrow is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Freshman</span> Orientation. Wednesday is the first day of school. I kinda feel like I'm on that ride.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-89636993016581581302010-08-19T00:00:00.002-05:002010-08-19T00:04:36.233-05:00We have arrived!So we've been in Indiana for 19 days, and in that 19 days we have moved in, unpacked everything we can with no furniture, scoped out the IKEA catalog for all the cool shit we're going to buy when I start getting paid, gotten my school keys, set up my classroom, learned where some of the stuff is at school, went to the beach, spent about 100 hours in the pool, missed a meeting, had 6 others, picked out a textbook, started writing curriculum, went to family events twice (which is so. Much. Closer now...), gotten lost about a billion times, and have had a general blast.<br /><br />I'd write more now but the Unisom just kicked in.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-68480508043013606182010-07-17T09:57:00.001-05:002010-07-17T10:13:41.245-05:00Moving blows.I hate moving. I hate packing, I hate schelepping, I hate unpacking. And since this will be roughly my fifteenth move in 12 years, you'd think I'd have this down pat. But I don't; I procrastinate as much as I can and then stress the fuck out at the last minute. So far, par for the course. The excitement of getting a job and the initial rush to pack has ebbed, and knowing that I have two weeks is dangerous. "Oh sure" I tell myself, "you can watch the weekly SVU marathon all day because you're not moving for two whole weeks."<br /><br />Maybe I should pack up the TV.<br /><br />It also doesn't help that we're moving back into an apartment. The place we're in now is amazing- it's a 100 year old duplex with hardwood floors and an upstairs and a basement. There are built-ins and original tile in the bathroom. It has completely spoiled me for having to move back into a beige apartment. The *only* reason haven't held out for something better is that there IS nothing better because we have dogs. Our little guy, Ziggy, is no problem, but Shelby is a big dog (60-70 lbs) and most of the places have weight limits of 30 lbs. So this place will let us have both, and it has a pool and is 20 minutes from the Indiana Dunes, so it won't suck while it's still warm out. Winter will be boring, I'm sure, but by then I'll be ass deep in the spring musical, so maybe I won't notice.<br /><br />I think I'm fixating on the move because once that's taken care of, I will have to write an curriculum and prepare for the coming school year, and if I didn't admit to being nervous, I'd be lying. Excited, but terrified.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-45151238423099076642010-07-04T14:30:00.003-05:002010-07-04T14:41:19.625-05:00YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME HOW MUCH?!?I got a job.<br /><br />A REAL, BIG-GIRL, CAREER TYPE JOB. Holy hell, I'm in such a state that I got it several days ago and I'm just now posting this. Because it's in another state, and I have to move, and I've been packing and looking for a house and OH MY GOD I HAVE A JOB!!!!!!!<br /><br />There is the eternal cynic in me that doesn't trust this 100% until the paperwork is signed. Like, we told our current landlord that we're out at the end of the month and I nearly had a panic attack because in 27 days we'll be homeless unless I find us something, and dear GOD WHAT HAPPENS IF THEY CALL AND SAY, "HA HA, JUST KIDDING!" AND WE'RE STUCK IN FUCKING INDIANA LIVING OUT OF A UHAUL???"<br /><br />I'm better now. Largely because in the interview the principal let it slip that I was the only applicant that had the right kind of certification and also because I'm going up on Wednesday to sign my letter of intent and to look at a house that's 3 blocks from Lake Michigan (BEACH!!!). And dreaming about my new position as a Drama/English teacher in a high school. Holy shit, I'm terrified. However, the theatre I will be occupying for what I hope is a long time seats over 2,000. Which is larger than the "state-of-the-art" facility my college alma mater spent millions and 6 years building. HA! Take that, higher education!<br /><br />I should point out that at the time of this posting it is the 4th of July and I've been drinking. Because right now, a beer is a better idea than packing. Woot!fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-79940965787678760842010-06-19T15:13:00.002-05:002010-06-19T15:19:56.678-05:00Okay. Maybe not so depressing.I have another job interview on Wednesday. It's another out-of-state job, but since it's right on the Indiana border, I'll actually be closer to my family in the Chicago burbs than I am currently, and we're in the same state. Aside from that, the other advantages includes 1. It's not Illinois, which has it's head so far up it's ass when it comes to education that 200,000 teachers have been laid off statewide and programs have been cut due to lack of funding, and 2. the principal, who sounded really nice and not the least bit intimidating, said she was having a hard time finding someone who could teach both Drama and English (which I find odd, but I'm not questioning fate). So, I went and actually bought a new dress (more out of necessity, since stressing over finances has me down about 20 lbs., and they frown upon you showing up to interview naked...) and I'll go to the 'rents the night before (mostly so I can weasel a free mani/pedi out of my mom), and I'll keep y'all posted. I'm sure if I get it, you'll hear the celebratory screaming.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-85109759007168071672010-06-08T22:54:00.002-05:002010-06-08T23:05:09.809-05:00This is the most fucking depressing blog ever.I really wish I had good news. Lord knows I could use it about now. I'm on the tail end of another meltdown... it's amazing what kind of stupid shit will set you off when you're already fragile. There's this Jack-in-the-Box commercial, the one with the talking sandwiches, and a secretary pops her head in to gently chide the large-headed CEO about something or other. I went to college with that secretary. She has apparently started getting nationwide campaigns, and I can't even get a job at fucking Target. I gave up the idea of being a professional actor because I didn't want to have to work three jobs to make ends meet (HA!). I want to teach because I wanted to make a difference in the world, even if it's just in the lives of a few kids. And now I'm willing to give that up just to have a steady paycheck. Hell, health insurance would be nice, but let's not go crazy here. I'm finding that I'm overqualified for anything around here, yet underexperienced to actually land a job in my field.<br /><br />I want to go to bed for a week.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-1380888261176916372010-06-05T19:09:00.003-05:002010-06-05T19:10:45.141-05:00Let's take a new route, shall we?There are two openings here in town for English teachers. I have applied for both. I have also spent money I could scarcely afford on fruit arrangements for the superintendents of those districts to catch someone's attention enough to maybe get an interview.<br /><br />Keep your fingers crossed.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-50850426418326636902010-05-13T14:21:00.004-05:002010-05-13T14:33:33.206-05:00Le LetdownSince all the Regretsy fuckery, I've had two job interviews. I'm pretty sure those events are mutually exclusive, but you never know; the universe may have decided to cut me a break. The first one was at a Catholic high school about 20 minutes from my parents, which is nice in that I'd be able to stay with them rent free and unpleasant in that they are insane. But I'd be able to come back here on the weekends and we could save for a house.<br /><br />Now, despite my atheism, I went to a Catholic school, so I know how the game is played. Also, so long as no one tries to convert me, I have no qualms with the religious. I panicked a little when I was asked in the interview if I was "spiritual" or "religious", but I managed to squeak out some kind of satisfactory response while avoiding the words "I", "don't", "believe","God", and "exists". So I left feeling pretty good about the whole thing, and the interview was even on my mother's birthday to boot.<br /><br />Though I felt really good about the interview, I went ahead and made arrangements to interview one state over just for the hell of it. I figured it couldn't hurt, and since my dad offered to spring for a hotel room, it's win-win. And despite being in essentially a one horse town, I figured "quaint" can get me through the burgeoning career for a few years. And *that* interview was even better than the Catholic school interview (maybe because God didn't figure in). It was pretty laid back, which was nice considering the 5 hour drive I had to get there and back (in the rain, btw...). I had a small crisis when I though about moving even further from my family than I currently am, but $38K a year speaks volumes when the previous years haven't even broken $18K between multiple jobs. Which, by the way, is AWESOME.<br /><br />Well, as soon as I manage to get myself embroiled in pretty heavy rush hour traffic, the Catholic school calls. And as soon as I saw the number on my cell, I just knew that I didn't have a chance in hell (thanks for nothing, Jesus). The principal was nice enough on the phone, telling me I interviewed well and I made his choice hard, but ultimately they went with someone with more experience. Which I find highly ironic, because how in fuck are you expected to get experience if you're currently in your third summer of job hunting??? He did offer, with my permission, to pass my resume on to any other school that happens to be in need of interviewees (or second-stringers, I though to myself), which I thought was pretty cool of him. So, all I had to hang on to was the long-distance job.<br /><br />Until this morning.<br /><br />I should point out that it's my husband's birthday today. We were on our way to take advantage of Denny's free Birthday Grand Slam breakfast when I got the call. Which was that ultimately, they went with someone else, but I had been a close second; that it was not that I interviewed poorly (far from it, I was reassured), and that he was sorry I had driven so far for nothing. I was quite proud of the fact that I didn't burst into tears until I hung up with the guy, but then I had to cry all over my husband, who was probably looking forward to a saline-free birthday.<br /><br />So, I interview well, I am articulate and I present a clear vision for what I expect in my students and from a position within a district. But I'm only second best. Now I know how Miss Congeniality feels: stabby.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-61615526761109678042010-04-21T19:05:00.002-05:002010-04-21T21:14:52.707-05:00Ch-ch-ch-ch changes.....I've had officially over 20,000 views to my <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/44791521/authentic-college-diploma-and">dipolma</a> in a week. And the stories that have been shared with me have been truly appreciated; some warm, some tough, some funny, all appreciated. It's put everything into perspective for me... I know I'm not doing what I want with my career, but I get my bills paid every month, even if there's nothing left afterward. I own, but I have a roof over my head that keeps me warm. I may eat pasta 5 nights a week, but I'm not starving. It's hard at times to keep all this in mind, but I'm trying...fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-38693648312504393232010-04-16T12:44:00.002-05:002010-04-16T12:54:29.305-05:00This has been the most productive sick week ever.I have only worked one day this week. Partly due to whatever Martian death flu I've been inflicted with and partly because job #3 ran out of work. If they don't scan in the work fast enough and we catch up, then we get an instant day off. Which is nice when you feel like concentrated ass, but it sucks when it's paycheck time.<br /><br />Since I found myself with copious amounts of "free time" and since the Etsy thing exploded on Wednesday, I've been able to be crafty this week. Which is nice; I was going through withdrawals. The downside is that if I go too fast or bend over, I get dizzy. So it's been slow. I thought I was all better a few days ago and probably over did it... woke up the next day and felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I hate being sick.<br /><br />In other news, I just got off the phone with the Department of Education. Why are they so damn nice? My federal loans have been in deferment pretty much since 2002, and they are all just so freakin lovely and willing to help when I'm down and out. Not like Sallie Mae, who could give two shits that between three jobs I can't afford the monthly payment because they want more than I make in a month and a half. And the customer "service" reps are bastards. There. I said it. Jerks...<br /><br />Even though I'm greatfull that the feds are willing to work with me, the fact that I've qualified for economic hardship deferment for the last 8 years is depressing. And the worst part is that student loans are pretty much our only debt. It's not like we're driving fancy cars or wearing designer clothing; we get by on what little we can. And we're not malcontent about it, either. It's just our life and we do what we have to.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-37995919165785305562010-04-15T21:44:00.002-05:002010-04-15T21:47:54.034-05:00I'm still in shock. And it's wonderful!In about 24 hours, I have gotten over 10,000 views to my diploma on <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/44791521/authentic-college-diploma-and-embellishe">Etsy</a>. in fact, because I'm obsessing, I have gotten over 100 in the last half hour. This is awesome.<br /><br />I am currently fighting some kind of martian death flu, and have every intention of replying to all the messages I've received that warrant a response once I can string together a coherent thought.<br /><br />Thank you all, you nutjobs.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-12465587883379716372010-04-14T22:46:00.002-05:002010-04-14T22:52:44.119-05:00Holy hell.So all I did was put a snarky post on Etsy and suddenly I am overwhelmed with support from total strangers. I love all you nutjobs.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-57438086702294937402010-03-29T10:39:00.003-05:002010-03-29T10:58:05.310-05:00So, how are things?Alright, I will admit that I haven't been keeping up with this blog because it's too damn depressing. And I had a period of time there where all I wanted to do was go to bed and be unconscious. Not sleep, just be out because it was more appealing that the alternative, which is currently three jobs that add up to a grand total of a little over $13K a year. I'm living in the lap of luxury, folks.<br /><br />A lot has happened since I last blogged, but that mostly comprises me running around like a headless chicken trying to keep the days of the week straight. Mondays and Wednesdays, I work at the community college as a Master Tutor (which sounds more impressive than it is; Master Tutor = I have a college degree), then in the afternoons I babysit. Yes. I babysit. At 30. To pay my bills. Brilliant. Tuesdays and Thursdays I work 8 hour shifts grading standardized tests for a local company, and they're ESL tests, and the only thing that gets me though those days are some of the adorable answers the students write. Fridays are my "light" days, as I am only tutoring. For now, I have the weekends off, but I have been contemplating a fourth job. Which I already know would be a bad idea, but I'm just that broke.<br /><br />I am behind on Sallie Mae, which is to say that I haven't made a single payment, and my "deferment" is over, and I don't have $150 for another one month deferment. And the monthly payment they want is more than I *make* in a month. So that sucks. I did, however, grab some attention with the diploma I listed on <a href="http://http://www.etsy.com/shop/discoqueen">Etsy</a>. I went from a modest 900 views in a month to over 5100 OVERNIGHT. I have <a href="http://www.regretsy.com">Regretsy</a> to thank for that. They linked it on their fan page on Facebook and the response was overwhelming. I suppose the next step would be to get some media attention somehow, but I don't even know where to begin. It would be nice if someone came along and bought it, but I really posted it to bring attention to Sallie Mae's collection "tactics". Because telling me to move into a homeless shelter so I can send them my rent money isn't constructive. It just adds to my already tangible sense of fail.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-88402058364508799612009-09-27T22:06:00.003-05:002009-09-27T22:31:33.424-05:00No, really, I'm much better.After nearly 4 years in a crappy rental house, the husbo and I were fortunate enough to stumble upon this fantastic duplex that just *happened* to be available for rent. It also just *happened* to be bigger than our previous crapshack and just *happened* to be cheaper. Like, $210 A MONTH cheaper. So we've spent the last 15 days preparing, painting, packing, and finally moving. We're in the final throws of cleaning 4 years of grime out of the house, and even though there are a few things left to do, I swear the house is cleaner than it was when we moved in. And I bet the landlord will find some asinine reason to keep our security deposit.<br /><br />In work-related news, I like my job as a tutor, but still feel largely redundant in class. I'm not really there enough to feel like a giant ass full time, but the six hours I'm in class I never know how to "be". It's not my class, but I have an overwhelming urge to teach. To prevent anything that can be construed as overstepping my bounds, I don't say anything. The problem is, neither do any of the students. No one ever seems to willingly contribute to class discussion, and as a result, one professor in particular turns to me to answer questions. The only response I want to give is, "I already have two bachelors degrees. Why don't you ask your <span style="font-style: italic;">students</span>?".<br /><br />I do have little glimmers, though. I have a student who has "never written a paper before". He comes to me to get help, but he hasn't done any of the pre-writing assignments yet. Hell, he was provided with source articles that he hadn't even read yet. The paper is about weather or not Michael Vick should be allowed back in the NFL. Personally, I think he should be allowed to play ball again when his dogs can.... oh, wait, they're dead. But personal opinions get pushed aside when your goal is to get a student to do his damn work. So I ask if he's read the articles, and it turns out that he's read one... the one that supports HIS opinion, that Vick should be let back in. So I tell him, "The best way to construct an argument is to anticipate what the other side is going to say and make a counter-argument". Translation: Read your damn homework. He sat there and read it... and when he finished, he sat back in his chair, looked at me, and said he was going to change his mind. I got goosebumps... not because this kid suddenly decided to agree with me, but because he came to a conclusion based on research right before my eyes (okay, "research" is a loose term, but I'm going with it). I have no idea if he actually wrote the paper, though...fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-63711062597990069702009-09-08T00:57:00.003-05:002009-09-08T01:10:48.420-05:00This is better?As a part time tutor at the community college, I get to sit through two classes three times a week. It's basically a high school level class, so I mostly read or write shitty poetry for the amusement of my friends. I don't have the same one-on-one interactions with the students like I did in the high schools, and it bugs me. Mostly because everyone is so <span style="font-style: italic;">quiet</span>. It's not my class, so I can't start dancing on the desks to get their attention (well, I <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span>.....). Even in the hallways, it's too friggin quiet.<br /><br />The first class I sit through is at 8. Lord, 8 AM comes early after a summer of unemployment. And it's pretty apparent that the students are of the same mindset... especially the girl who's 8 months pregnant and comes in late every day, reeking of cigarettes. Lately, she's been sick, so she comes in, stinks up the place, hacks up a lung, and chugs Diet Mt. Dew. She's maybe all of 19, and she has a 2 year old. It kills me that I'm going to be 30 this year and have done everything in my power to *not* get pregnant.....<br /><br />In the second class, I have a student who has Flintstone feet. It's pretty insignificant, but I find myself staring at them for the whole hour. He wears the same pair of oversized Adidas sandals, and they offer a perfect view of his stubby toes. In my head, I have nicknamed him Fred.<br /><br />In other news, for those of you keeping score (the, what... 3 of you who read this?) my sister finally got a job. A real, grownup job with a grownup salary and grown up insurance. I am terribly, terribly excited for her, and relieved, and jealous beyond belief. She'll argue that she's been unemployed since February, which is valid... until I point out that I've been a glorified baby sitter for over a year and have *2* college degrees to her one. So I win the pity contest; hopefully the prize is a waiver for the massive student loans I'm staring down....fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-31956707089894914032009-08-29T13:49:00.002-05:002009-08-29T14:07:47.973-05:00I'm actually doing better.I still have no job, and had a melt down a few days ago in Office Max over twistable crayons. Crayons. I kid you not. They were a buck, too. What got me was thinking, 'hey, these would be great for my classroom. If I ever GET a classroom...', which set me off. It's another school year and I'm relegated to subbing. Again. I hate subbing, but you do what you have to, I guess.<br /><br />I have a part time gig as a tutor at the community college. It's 9 hours a week, and I basically sit there and either read or write. I've started a few short stories, which is mildly exciting. I gave up writing after I graduated from college the first time because I was preoccupied with, you know, working. So this has been win-win, I guess... $11 an hour to sit in a high school level class and write my own stuff so it looks like I care about what's being taught. At least it's not a remedial grammar class.<br /><br />I also have an hour in which I sit in the tutoring center and take students on a drop-in or appointment basis. Last Wednesday, after my first class, I had a pretty busy hour, what with the developmentally challenged student whose class had been canceled and came because he didn't know what else to do (which is actually a pretty good strategy, except he had no assignments to get help with, since, you know, his class was canceled) and a guy who wanted to know if I knew how he could get the information he needed out of a 100+ page reading assignment <span style="font-style: italic;">without doing the actual reading</span>. He wasn't even a student at the college; he's in a Master's program at a local seminary college. And this was for a Christian History class. I mean, this is what you need to *know*. This is history. Facts. Events. Dates. Information that is potentially relevant to, you know, <span style="font-style: italic;">what you plan on doing for the rest of your life</span>. There are no Cliff Noted for 2,000 years worth of triumphs, persecution, martyrs, dogma, Calvinists, popes, corruption, etc, etc, etc... And the best part was totally when the guy <span style="font-weight: bold;">answers his goddammned cellphone in the middle of my friggin' advice. </span>At that point I just wanted him out and contemplated telling him he'd make a really shitty priest.<br /><br />The hubbs and I will also be moving in a few weeks to a place that's bigger, nicer, and cheaper, if you can believe that. $210 a month cheaper, to be exact. When you have very little in the way of an income, every little bit helps. We also discovered a pretty kick-ass thrift store today after "breakfast" (it should not cost a couple $12 to get two mochas and a piece of cake, but it was nice to get out...), so when we get into the new place we can decorate it a la shabby chic and not spend a ton. It would only be cheaper if it were free.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7660574033385081041.post-69904931381355202942009-08-13T23:46:00.003-05:002009-08-14T00:03:25.360-05:00Fail.It's been over a week since I had that interview. The only criteria for when I'd hear back was "soon". Considering school starts in less than 20 days, I expected "soon" to be roundabouts the day after the interview. Maybe the next Monday. So I'm operating under the assumption that I didn't get it... it's almost easier to accept that. I suppose after a while one gets used to disappointment.<br /><br />Hey, speaking of disappointment, I had to grovel to my dad for money again. Well, it was less "groveling" and more like "hyperventilating over the phone while sobbing after he asked if we needed money". And since I hung up with him, I go through these swings where I can't stop crying (for once in my life I hope that's hormonal). I feel like I failed. I have always had this fear of failure, which explains a lot of my lackluster performance during high school; if you don't try, you can't fail. I partly gave up my dream of being an actress because I was afraid I'd fail (and partly because they never cast my ass in squat)... what do you do when you give up the unattainable dreams of your childhood for something more realistic, and you can't even reach that? And I never thought I'd be the one to play the numbers game, but I'll be 30 in four months and this is NOT what my younger self envisioned for my 30 year old self: sitting on the couch in the dark blogging about how miserable I am half the time while trying to hide it from the rest of the world. Jebus, no wonder I'm having a breakdown.<br /><br />And that "part time" tutor job, the ONLY FUCKING JOB I WAS ABLE TO GET REMOTELY IN MY FIELD is frustrating as hell, and I haven't even started it yet. I have been scheduled for 10 hours a week. Okay, part time is part time. <span style="font-style: italic;">However, </span>when those 10 hours are broken up into 2 hour segments <span style="font-style: italic;">five days a week</span>, we have a problem. I'm not even pissed that MWF starts at 8 am. What I'm pissed about is the five day a week thing. And of course it's scheduled so that subbing is out of the question... 8-10 am MWF, 2-4 TR. School has either already begun or is about to let out by then. What. The. Fuck.<br /><br />So tomorrow I will call the interview lady and discover my fate; I will then feed some cats for a friend, call the tutor coordinator and hope for the best, take another friend's kids to the pool, and pretend none of this shit is eating away at my soul.fancy spatulahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14764421247023701669noreply@blogger.com0