It's Over

It's over. I am outta there.

I wanted to write a nice post about how proud I am of my seniors, who graduated Monday night. I am proud of them--particularly certain ones who worked really hard in my classes--but the truth is, two "graduates" should not have received diplomas tonight because they did not truly pass my class for the year. I compromised my academic integrity by not putting up more of a fight when asked to fudge and inflate and give the nod.

One student flunked his final exam, along with his final test, along with lots of other stuff this year. If only he'd shown up in class, done his homework, listened to lectures, and maybe participated in class discussions, he would have done fine. He passed anyway, since I let him retake the exam (he made a higher failing grade than before the second time around). I also had to do some fudging, curving, and re-weighting of grades for everyone.

Another student did not take his final exam but wrote a paper as an "alternative exam" because of a learning disability. Only thing is, he plagiarized his paper, almost word for word, from a popular "CliffNotes" type site on the internet. He should have gotten a zero and failed. If only he'd made an effort on his own--like he's done for the past semester--I would have felt somewhat justified in passing him. The plagiarist passed anyway. The school simply wanted to rid its hands of him, since he would never truly pass on his own.

I feel sick over this. The keynote speaker spent some time talking about integrity. As he spoke, I just sat there feeling like I wanted to throw up. I'm probably taking this too seriously. I've always taken academics too seriously, I suppose. Even when I was six, I took school too seriously. But this is serious. I feel like I should go to confession or something. "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned." Would this be a sin of omission? Whatever. Apparently it's not all that important.

I'm so glad it's over. I'm ready for a year's worth of seething rage, ugly bitterness, and acrid cynicism to end. I am definitely writing from a place of bitterness tonight. I resigned from the job last week, though I may return next year to teach a single section of a single class. I don't know. The academic integrity thing makes me think I don't deserve the title of "teacher" anymore. Kind of like Atticus saying he could never again tell Scout and Jem what to do if he didn't defend Tom Robinson. I don't think I can ever tell students what to do anymore, since they can slack off and b.s. and plagiarize and not have to deal with any real consequences.

My resignation was very hush-hush, but it seems that everyone knows now. Parents were even telling me at graduation how sorry they were that I wouldn't be teaching English next year. So, since everyone else knows, I'm now telling you, dear readers.

I loved many things about teaching, and there are things I'll miss about it. I'll miss the joy of ... well, teaching. I love the students, the subjects, and my co-workers ... but I'm just not cut out for the teaching life.

Someone, please tell me that I shouldn't take this so seriously and that I should lighten up. But only tell me that if you really believe it.

I Met My Replacement Today

She's good. She's going to be really good. She doesn't know what she's getting into, but that's OK. I'm giving her all of my lesson plans, handouts, essay assignments, quizzes, tests, etc.--anything that will help her.

She and my principal both are responding with disbelief at how generous I'm being. It's not that I'm being generous. I just don't want her to have to go through what I went through last year, or she'll be the one resigning next May. Maybe my years as a tech writer taught me not to be possessive of my own work. I don't know. But I'm making her a CD of all my work tonight. It'll give her plenty to look at over the summer.

The school really wants me to remain on a less-than-part-time basis and teach a writing class. I want to. In fact, I'm the one who suggested. If my writing-career schedule allows for it, I'm going to do it. It would be a way for me to continue teaching, to be a part of a school that I love (I really do love the school), yet still have flexibility and time to myself. It'll also be more stuff I can add to my grad school application.

So, life is very good. I'm going to shut down this blog in a few days. I think it's served its purpose.

After All That Agonizing ...

I resigned today. Several hours later, my principal called me at home. They have a replacement for me, and they were wondering if I could talk to her (the replacement) tomorrow and let her know what my plans were, curriculum-wise, for the school's English program next year.

Sure, I'll be happy to.

I also got an e-mail from a company I worked for several years ago and was told that, if I'm looking for any freelance writing work, to please let them know because they have plenty that I can do.

Yup. I did the right thing--though I'm taking the summer off before I even begin to think about another job. Luckily for me, that's OK with my husband (it was his idea, actually).

I'm going to try freelance writing and teaching. My school is very interested in having me teach one class next year (a writing class that combines expository writing with creative writing), and I would really love to do that. I love teaching. I just don't think I can take another year of full-time teaching at this particular school.

My sister, a 10-year veteran of teaching, knows the details of my situation. She thinks I'm crazy to have stuck it out for the entire year. Maybe I am. But I know I've made the right decision, and I'm hopeful for the next phase of things.

I'm going to write more on this later. For now, I'm feeling pretty exhausted and am going to go to bed early.

A Step in a Direction

I set up an appointment with my principal for after school today. I didn't know what I was going to tell her. I didn't think I had the guts to resign. So I just went in, sat down, and told her, very honestly and not too emotionally, how I've been struggling with this decision. I told her the honest truth--that I was concerned for my mental health. Because when it comes down to it, I'm not considering leaving because of the salary or the hours or any of that. My main reason for wanting to leave is that I've become a nervous wreck, and I've been a nervous wreck for months now. If you've read my other blog with any regularity, you've probably noticed it.

She was surprised that I was thinking about leaving, but she wasn't surprised at the reason I gave her. She is well aware of my "mental (lack of) health" struggles--I warned her about them before she ever hired me. She was very supportive and kind, and it made me feel like less of a heel for thinking I should quit.

I realized today that I'm a big part of the problem. I guess I knew that, but I haven't wanted to fully admit it. Some people can handle the crazy scheduling and the lack of standards and the roller-coaster style life on stage. You teachers who have done this for years--y'all are among those that can handle it. Some people just can't. It's not that I can't handle stress; it's just that I can't handle the kind of stress that's been part and parcel of this job.

I also push myself too hard. I once joked that having me work in a school is like having an alcoholic work in a bar. I love learning, planning, teaching, etc., so much that I put 200% percent into it when I could really get away with much less. If I had some sort of mentor standing over me saying where to draw the line of effort, or where I should lower my standards and where I shouldn't, maybe things would be easier. Maybe I would learn how to cut corners--or which corners to cut--if I stuck around for another few years. But it's never been something I've been particularly good at doing. And the work environment isn't the most conducive to personal growth of any kind.

It all goes back to mental health. This past year has been a disaster for me, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Maybe next year will be easier, but then again, maybe next year will be worse. I don't think I'm willing to take the chance of finding out. If it's worse, I may not survive it.

So I didn't resign, but I gave my principal a heads-up that I'll likely resign. She said she would pray for me, and that, whatever my decision, I should let her know soon so that they can begin looking for a replacement. Our meeting ended on a positive note. Of course I was boo-hooing by the time it was over.

I think I've done the right thing. While I didn't resign, I've moved to a much better place than where I was before the meeting. I'm feeling much better tonight than I was this morning, when my stomach was in knots and my throat kept closing up. Much better.

First Draft of Schedule

I went to the principal today to ask if she could look over my exam review guides and tell me if I'm expecting too much or too little from my students. As she was looking at them, I noticed that a very early draft of my schedule for next year was on her desk. My planning periods will be first period and seventh period. As for the rest:

2nd: American Lit
3rd: Composition
4th: World Lit
5th: British Lit
6th: Fundamentals of Lit

So far, they're keeping to their promise of not giving me an English class for seventh period.

I'm sick over this. Yes, CaliforniaTeacherGuy, it's an INFP trait--or, more specifically, a "P" trait to think and think and think and not act. I'm usually pretty good about acting on things, but not this time. I just wish I wouldn't give myself an ulcer in the process. It seems like so many factors are involved.

Pre-Exam-Week Thoughts

I've written two exam review sheets, and I have one to go.

What saddens me is that these students' study skills are so poor. A few will do well on the exam, and most will do poorly--no matter how easy I make it. I tried to teach study skills here and there this year, but it's been a losing battle. I even begged to be able to teach a study-skills elective during second semester this year (I know, I'm crazy), but it didn't happen.

I'm testing my dear students on everything we've done this year. No specific questions about, "What was the name of Duncan's brother in Macbeth," but more overarching questions: identification of story elements, poetic devices, etc.; interpretation of figurative language, symbolism, themes, etc.; and not-too-difficult specific questions that they'd better darn well remember. Questions will all be recycled (but reworded) from old tests, or at least most of them will. The essay will require them to assimilate what they've learned over the year.

Thing is, there are some students that are good at assimilating. They think for themselves. They may not always be right, but their minds are working.

Other students are experts at spitting back exactly what I've told them. I hate that. I don't want a memorized, written transcript of my lectures. Even if I ask them to come up with an answer for themselves, they merely spit back what I've said in class. I have tried, tried to get them to do otherwise. But it's like some of them just don't get it.

I think, "Next year. Next year I'll work harder on that."

But there most likely won't be a next year. Although many of you have encouraged me to stick it out another year, I am leaning toward not doing so. I don't want to quit teaching altogether, but I think my days at this school are definitely numbered.

I was sad this afternoon, though. I was talking to a mom who said that she and her husband, along with several other sets of parents, had been planning to take their kids out of our school next year. But then, when they learned I was going to be teaching all four sections of English, plus composition, and that their kid was going to have me for their English teacher, they'd decided to keep their kid in the school.

More to ruminate on, or a sign that, if I'm going to resign, I need to do it sooner rather than later?

This is so hard.

Carnival of Education

The Carnival of Education for the week is up at NYC Educator. I submitted something from this blog. Thanks to all who have hopped over here from there!

Job Fair, and Some Thoughts

I'd never been to a job fair before, so I didn't know what to expect. It was to start around 9:00, so I got there at about 8:50. Drove all over creation before I could find a parking place. It was about 9:00 when I finally began the walk toward the huge crowd of prospective teachers milling around outside the job-fair building. I soon found myself in the first of many lines that I'd stand in that day.

I eventually signed in and made a name tag ("just put your name and area of certification"). I wrote my name and ... hmm. I'm not certified. I put "English 9-12" anyway. That's supposedly my specialty, or at least the area I will be certified in once I've gained enough credit for the state's lateral-entry teacher-certification program.

Most people there seemed to be recent college grads and were dressed in interview outfits--the blazer and such. I felt a little underdressed, but I did notice that the older attendees (of which I was one) were also a little less dressed-up than the younguns.

First stop was the lateral entry booth. I talked to the woman there, picked up a list of requirements, and told her I'd be at her presentation in an hour. Then I started visiting the tables. Each table represented a school district and had vacancies listed. There were a few English vacancies. I stopped at every district within 45 minutes of my house. When I got to my own county's table, I told them how much I'd love to teach in the Podunk County school system. They were very gracious and encouraging and asked if I'd be willing to teach middle school English and science. "Sure," I said. "I love middle school, and I'm teaching science this year anyway."

At 10:00, I went to the lateral-entry informational meeting. They told me a few things I didn't know and a lot I already did know. The woman who was giving the presentation made lots of nervous jokes about being an unappreciated, underpaid teacher. I appreciated her efforts, but the jokes got a little old. She talked about the requirements for becoming a principal ("just how easy it really is"), and I found myself thinking, "Hm. I might be a good principal."

Then something happened. I sat there and thought to myself, "What am I doing here? Why did I just tell the Podunk County rep that I would love to teach middle school English and science? I most certainly wouldn't love to do such a thing. Why am I thinking about being a principal? When did I start thinking this way?"

See, the whole reason I went into teaching--the whole reason I've ever gone into any line of work--was to enable me to write more. My true calling is to write, and maybe by writing, teach. I love teaching, and I seem to have a gift for it. But, as noble a calling as it is for many, it's simply a means to an end for me. Or it started that way.

When did I decide I needed to be an educational Wonder Woman who can design and teach five classes in a single bound--all during my first year on the job? When did I accept it as "okay" to work 100+ hours a week for less money than I made my first year out of college, and no benefits? Where did I lose myself in all of this? How could I have forgotten about writing?

I forget about it every time, though. In my last cubicle job, before I started teaching, I forgot about writing. I got so bogged down in the work of the job, and so frustrated and depressed by the boredom of it, that I had no energy left for creative writing when I got home. This past summer, which was supposed to be a summer of working on my novel, turned into a roller-coaster ride of short-term jobs mopping floors, wiping tables, and entering data into a computer.

I end up hating every job I have because, ultimately, it takes me away from my writing. I love teaching, but I've come to hate teaching at my school because it's so much of a do-it-yourself job that I barely have the energy to shower in the morning--much less work on a novel or a poem.

Back to the job fair. After this little epiphany, I went back to the the booths and tables and talked to a few more of the reps, some of whom were principals. I talked to one in particular who was looking for an English teacher and who, in looking over my resume, was really impressed that I'd thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail. I'm e-mailing him today and telling him that it was nice meeting him and I hoped he would consider me for the job. It's the best fit for me, subject- and grade-wise, as well as commuting-wise.

While standing in the many lines yesterday, we prospective teachers would talk about our current jobs and the types of jobs we were looking for. I stood with several experienced teachers in one line and told them about my job (not complaining ... just telling them what I do), and they looked horrified. "That's just too much," one woman kept saying. "That's just too much work for one person."

It is. It's too much, and it's wrecking my health. If I'm offered a job teaching high-school English in this or one of the two surrounding counties, I'm going to seriously consider it. The grass may not be any greener over there, but at least it'll include double the pay, plus benefits.

Back to school for me. My first-period class is starting to file in.

Questions Answered

The events today--the job fair, the teacher appreciation thing, several e-mails and phone calls that I had--answered a lot of questions. They weren't necessarily the answers I wanted, but they were the answers I got. Ironically (or not), they were the same answers I got several weeks ago--the same answers that I ignored in order to keep asking the same questions.

I have a lot to think about, and a lot to do. I was offered a summer job by the same company that I worked for (part-time) last summer. They'll pay me $12/hour for 20 hours a week. Know what that means? That means I'll make almost as much per month as I currently make per month for working about 100 hours a week.

I don't think I'm going to take the summer job, though. I did a lot of thinking today--a lot of thinking, and a lot of writing. A lot of working things out in my head. And the answers--the answers I didn't want to hear--kept bobbing up like the tennis balls we used to play with in the swimming pool. I tried to push them back under, but they wouldn't stay there.

So that's where I stand now. I don't want to write much on the questions or the answers tonight. But I will soon, once I'm better able to articulate them. For now, it's time for bed.

Big Day Today

I think today will reveal many things. This morning I'll go to the regional job fair for teachers. Public schools (including a couple of charter schools) from nine counties will be represented. I have copies of my application, my resume, and my transcripts, as required, and hope to chat it up with reps from the seven or so schools that are within driving distance of my house.

I'm not particularly nervous, but I'm aware of my shortcomings. I know that English teachers aren't in great demand, and it doesn't help me that I'm not certified and only have one year of experience under my belt.

On the other hand, I'm mature, have years of professional experience in other fields, have a master's degree, and am a published author. It also helps that my specialty is in teaching writing (I think).

So today is the job fair. But that's not all! Tonight is a teacher-appreciation banquet at my school. I will, along with the rest of the teachers, receive tokens of teacher-appreciation. I will not, however, receive a higher-than-expectedneeded raise or benefits for next year. Still, I think it'll be a nice banquet.

Will my experiences today tilt me in the direction of taking a new job? Or will they send me scurrying back to the old one, thankful for what I have? We'll see. I'm not nervous about the job fair or the interviews, but I do have kind of a jittery eagerness to know the outcome. I'm excited, but at the same time, I wish today was over already.

I'll be posting my reactions, reflections, and thoughts either tonight (if I'm not too tired) or tomorrow. Stay tuned.