Well, kinda funny.? As in I will laugh about this some day.
I made a vow to not talk about my job on a public platform, (even when it’s really really funny) partly because its a bit of bad form, and partly because as a teacher I am essentially a public servant, and I take that seriously, as I do teaching.? But occasionally things approach a level of absurdity that must be shared.
So let me tell you a hypothetical story, with a lot of disclaimers.
I.? A.? 1. I love teaching.? If teaching was all about imparting knowledge to young willing minds, I’d be all there.
I. A. 2. If teaching was occasionally about imparting knowledge to young less-than-willing minds, I’d still be all there.? Enthusiastically.
I. A. 3.? If teaching was about ridiculous paperwork, broken computerized gradebooks, and copy machines that work twice a month, still there.? I’d do a little venting, but I’d still show up early and stay late, work most evenings on my lessons, and spend Saturday nights grading for 9 mos. out of the year.
But sometimes teaching is this quirky endurance test that is more reminiscent of one of those contest reality shows.? My (hypothetical) schedule made all the more insane by traveling? between two schools and six grade levels, this season’s extra special twist including sharing six (yes six) different classrooms.
Now if you took the average businessman and told him he had to continue to do his job effectively while moving to a new location every hour of the day, he’d probably not be thrilled.? Send him to offices currently occupied by employees who don’t particularly want to share their space, and things can get a little dicey.? Take away his access to necessary supplies and equipment and then stick him in front of 30+ middle school students and expect some semblance of order, well, you’d better provide the tranquilizer blow darts or he’s hypothetically toast, sister.
The funny part of the story came about after discovering that in one classroom the typical ratio of 1 student to 1 desk/ chair was askew (as in butts > chairs), and after trying to correct this via all traditional channels, I finally stormed, exasperated, into the principal’s office.? He was incredibly helpful in that he not only wrote the problem down on a post-it, but resolved to pass it on to someone else (phew.)? And then, much to my surprise — he offered me another classroom.
[A little background: not only is current classroom #6 on my list, it is quite ill-suited to teach my subject matter, which involves clay and paints and numerous messy materials.? The room has no running water or sinks, and just to add insult to injury, no working pencil sharpeners and a clock that spins like the exorcist halfway through the class like clockwork.? (That is the only thing it does like clockwork.)]
ANOTHER classroom?!?? I’m sure there was, hypothetically, such a look of shock and horror on my face that he said “Onlyifyouwant!Youchoose.Nopressure.” as fast as he possibly could choke out.? “But… it has sinks,” he said carefully.? Sinks..?? Real… sinks??? (So you know there has to be a catch, or they would have put me there months ago.)? Where is said room, I ask cautiously?
Oh, down the hallway… keep on going… past the gymnasium… in…
…the boys locker room.
If I had to make this any more surreal, I couldn’t.? I teach in what most people consider to be a “wealthy” district.? And I am (hypothetically) not kidding.
I’m not sure what tomorrow holds, but I do know that today held plenty enough for me.? Laugh with me later, willya?