By the way...that was my first blog ever.
If anyone in the world happens to read it, please drop a comment on me. I would even be gracious to read one that told me I am an embarrassment to English teachers world-wide for flagrant comma abuses and absurd recurrent elipses.
At least I know then that you read it...
Saturday, August 12, 2006
My Ninth One-Year Plan
There is nothing as depressing as entering a store, such as a Target let's say, in early August only to be bombarded with "BACK TO SCHOOL" sales. I think for us teachers this marks the beginning of the beginning, so to speak. Whereas most adults, and by most I mean those with school age children, approach the back to school bonanza as a welcome sign that other adults in this world will soon take responsibility for their children between the hours of 7am until 3pm-ish, perhaps later if they are involved in a sport or club, for me...(sigh)...I prepare to suck it up for my ninth one-year plan. Let me explain...
Eight years ago I was a bright eyed and eager college graduate from what most would consider a well known and respected Boston-area University. (No, not that one. They didn't accept me...What the hell is a "Crimson" anyway?) I had recently excavated myself from a period know by my friends at the time as "the dark-days", which consumed the entire second half of my senior year of college, and wasn't all too sure what to do with my life. Granted, I had double majored in English and Education but the idea of going back to high school after I fought so hard to get out in the first place didn't seem to make much sense to me. I did the most logical thing I could think of to preserve my sanity...I became a bartender in a local Irish Pub in the Boston area. There certainly would be very few high school age kids in there.
Life was great. I worked hard, made good tips, slept in 'til noon everyday, and enjoyed my job immensely. I knew, though, that Mom and Dad would not be pleased if I told them I was taking the education they mostly funded and was using it to decorate the foam of Guinness Draughts with shamrocks (which is not easy to do, mind you). I sent out resumes...I had one interview. Apparently, I rocked. They hired me.
It was a train wreck.
I distinctly remember wanting to not return to school after the Christmas vacation (and yup, it was a "Christmas Vacation"...It's a (gulp), Catholic school, more on that later, if interested). I returned, learned that the plight of the first year teacher is one that is nationwide, and decided that if I quit after the 1st year, I was a quitter. If I quit after the 2nd year, I had made a choice. That was my plan. A 2-year old job is easy to explain leaving...examples?
"I wasn't challenged by the students." (Lie).
"There wasn't any opportunity to get involved in the school." (Lie)
"I don't like working with kids." (Lie)
"There was no opportunity for professional development." (Big Lie)
"The money wasn't any good." (Ok...true, but there's that whole "higher purpose" thing...)
So I didn't leave after year one, but I had plans to get out of there after two, no doubt about that.
Funny how things work...That was eight years ago.
Anyway, I still hate going to Target.
Eight years ago I was a bright eyed and eager college graduate from what most would consider a well known and respected Boston-area University. (No, not that one. They didn't accept me...What the hell is a "Crimson" anyway?) I had recently excavated myself from a period know by my friends at the time as "the dark-days", which consumed the entire second half of my senior year of college, and wasn't all too sure what to do with my life. Granted, I had double majored in English and Education but the idea of going back to high school after I fought so hard to get out in the first place didn't seem to make much sense to me. I did the most logical thing I could think of to preserve my sanity...I became a bartender in a local Irish Pub in the Boston area. There certainly would be very few high school age kids in there.
Life was great. I worked hard, made good tips, slept in 'til noon everyday, and enjoyed my job immensely. I knew, though, that Mom and Dad would not be pleased if I told them I was taking the education they mostly funded and was using it to decorate the foam of Guinness Draughts with shamrocks (which is not easy to do, mind you). I sent out resumes...I had one interview. Apparently, I rocked. They hired me.
It was a train wreck.
I distinctly remember wanting to not return to school after the Christmas vacation (and yup, it was a "Christmas Vacation"...It's a (gulp), Catholic school, more on that later, if interested). I returned, learned that the plight of the first year teacher is one that is nationwide, and decided that if I quit after the 1st year, I was a quitter. If I quit after the 2nd year, I had made a choice. That was my plan. A 2-year old job is easy to explain leaving...examples?
"I wasn't challenged by the students." (Lie).
"There wasn't any opportunity to get involved in the school." (Lie)
"I don't like working with kids." (Lie)
"There was no opportunity for professional development." (Big Lie)
"The money wasn't any good." (Ok...true, but there's that whole "higher purpose" thing...)
So I didn't leave after year one, but I had plans to get out of there after two, no doubt about that.
Funny how things work...That was eight years ago.
Anyway, I still hate going to Target.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
