Month: May 2016

Adults often measure each other by their net worth, but children have their own currency: popularity.  I witnessed an interesting phenomenon during Kindergarten lunch today.  A student was checking his own status on the barometer of his popularity among his classmates.  He stood up at lunch and yelled out, “Who wants to come to my house?”  It was not an actual invitation, and his mother would have been horrified to see 20 children lined up to go home with her at the end of the day, but the boy was gratified to see that every hand in the class was raised and several were offering suggestions of what they would do if they were lucky enough to be chosen for such an honor.

Likewise, an invitation to a birthday party or play date gives the issuer an enormous amount of power.  Such an invitation or the retraction of such an invitation can make or break a child’s day and their standing within the class social structure.  The most dreaded curse of a young child’s life can be the simple phrase, “You’re not invited to my party anymore!”  A child will go to great lengths to avoid receiving that pronouncement.

They say it never rains but that it pours.  I got a call last week from the head of the music department at Hope Christian Academy in my town.  Right before I was offered the job at Pemberton, the name of this school kept popping up everywhere I turned: in conversations, newspapers, flyers in my mailbox.  I’ve learned from past experience to pay attention when this happens, because it usually means I’m supposed to act on it.

I never thought about teaching at a Christian school before.  Public school employees tend to look down their noses at educators in the private sector.  No one ever says it, but it’s implied that private school teachers are the losers who couldn’t get a job teaching at a “real” school.  In general, it is believed that the true quality of the teaching in a private school is inferior to that of a public school, because the teacher has to bow and scrape to the will of the parents of the students rather than do what is best for the students’ learning.  I didn’t want to become one of those teachers.

Anyhow, Hope Christian’s name kept popping up, so I printed off another copy of my résumé and took it by the school.  The secretary buzzed me in, and I presented her with my résumé saying, “I think I’m supposed to give you this.”  When I explained that I was seeking a classroom teaching position, she replied that the director of the school was out at a funeral, but she promised to give my résumé to her when the director returned.  I thanked the secretary and left.  That was two months ago, and I really hadn’t given it much more thought.

Then, just last week, Patty, Hope Christian’s music department chair, called and asked if I would meet her for coffee.  She didn’t mind meeting in the evening after I got off work, and she didn’t mind driving all the way to Netherville for it, either.  We agreed to meet at a coffee shop far enough away from Pemberton that there was little chance of my being seen by Pemberton parents or staff, but which was conveniently located on my way home and hers.

“I know that you said you wanted a classroom teaching position, but would you consider teaching music?  There’s an awful lot of music in your background,” Patty asked.

“Well, yes…I think I would.”

I hadn’t planned on teaching music.  In fact, when I was growing up, I was dead set against it.  My mother and my aunt were elementary vocal music teachers.  In fact, when my mother started teaching, she taught it all: instrumental, as well as vocal, music plus art.  I watched my mother made miserable in her job by increasingly unrealistic demands, an unreasonable boss, and uncaring students.  My aunt was often in fear of losing her job from one year to the next, because music was always the first thing the administration in her school district threatened to cut.  I couldn’t bear to deal with students who didn’t care for the thing about which I was most passionate, and I wanted a career that would afford more job stability.

When I went to college, I thought I would end up teaching at the college level, because I did love music, and many of my mother’s friends who were teachers often told me I had a natural talent for teaching as they watched me work with some of their students.  I felt very comfortable in the classroom.  However, as I worked on my doctorate, the universities (and potential employers) kept upping the requirements for attaining my degree and for gaining employment.  There were almost no jobs to be had anyway.  None of the people I watched graduating ahead of me could find jobs in our chosen field, and they ended up working in the business world.

Additionally, I’d been working so hard for so long, I started getting burned out.  Then my mom died, and I started questioning why I was doing all of this.  Was it for her?  Was it for myself?  If I was completely honest with myself, shouldn’t I know something about the business world if that was where I was going to end up?  To make a long story short, I did a complete 180-degree turn and changed schools and earned a Master of Business Administration degree instead of continuing work on my Ph.D. in music.  Everyone who knew me was in shock.  I’d never had a business class in my life before that.  But I digress.

Patty and I chatted about several possibilities: conducting a band or choir, giving private lessons, teaching classroom music.  I was particularly intrigued by the thought of teaching classroom music and quite petrified at the thought of having to lead a band or choir after all this time of not doing it.  I was very candid about my thoughts and feelings.  I had nothing to lose.  I have a job.  But like the opportunity with the other interview I had last week, I wanted to see where this one led.  We parted amicably, with nothing offered on either side, but promising to stay in touch.

I got a very nice phone call from the principal with whom I interviewed last week.  He had promised to make a decision pretty quickly and let me know personally, one way or the other, and he kept his promise.  Unfortunately, I did not get the job, but he was complimentary and wished me the best of luck in my current job.  I’m so disappointed.  It would have been really nice working in a public school much closer to my home where I already knew a friend, and I hate to say it, but I’m quickly growing very unhappy with my current job.  There is so much tension and stress.  I’m also very uncomfortable with some of the things I see being asked of Linda.  Whether they realize it or not, teachers are being cheated out of the hours they work.  Linda is told to change the time sheets on a regular basis.  The administrative office is monitoring our attendance and time clocks through the computer, and the second a class drops below the required student-to-teacher ratio, they’re on the phone demanding that we send a worker home, no matter how many hours the worker has been promised.  I know someday those demands will be made of me, and I don’t know that I can live with it.

Answer of the day:

We were talking about counting in our 4s class today, and precious Michael suddenly burst out with an addition problem, well beyond the math concepts we had been discussing.  I asked him how he got so smart and he replied with a grin, “My brain told me all I know.”

The phone rang in the office today while I was working on the accounting and Linda answered it.

“It’s Beverly.  She wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” I gasped.  What in the world would make her ask to speak to me?

“Hello?  This is Annie.”

“Annie, dear,” Beverly’s voice purred, “Mr. Martin and I were wondering, has the bank extended its Columbus Day holiday?”

“Umm…no.”

“Really?  Well, then, have all of the Netherville parents gone on strike and refused to pay their tuition this month?”

“No,” I half-way chuckled.

“Then why haven’t you made a bank deposit?” the voice changed to one with a malevolent edge.  I stopped mid-chuckle and swallowed hard.

“Well, not many checks have come in the last few days, since it is the middle of the month and most everyone has already paid for October, but even if they had, I am unable to complete recording any transactions in the computer for the school, because I haven’t been given a password that allows me access to that part of the system yet.”

“Why not!?” she snapped.

“I don’t know why not.  Linda has called to check on it several times, but we’ve never received it yet.”  God help me, I know I just threw someone under the Beverly Bus, but this isn’t our fault, and I’m not going to take the blame for it.  I don’t know who I just threw under the bus, but God help them, too.

“Well!  We’ll just have to see about this!”  With that, she hung up.

In a few minutes, one of the administrative office secretaries called back with my password and a warning from Beverly to make sure the November billing statements went out on time.  My, how quickly things get done when the boss doesn’t get her money!

I’m so excited!  I had a face-to-face interview with a principal at an elementary school in a neighboring school district to my home.  My name and résumé are still in the county-wide job search computer system, and he chose me from the information there.  He even agreed to let me interview in the evening when I explained to him that I had just taken a related job and the employers would not look kindly on me taking off for a job interview so soon after I’ve started working for them.  I think I had a good interview, and I want to give this a chance to lead to a job closer to what I was seeking in the first place.  It’s for a fourth grade position soon to be vacated by an expectant mother, and I would love that!  I certainly have more to offer than a recent college graduate, and my good friend, Charlene, works there as a part-time nurse and has promised to put in a good word for me.  That’s what really gets you the job in this area: knowing someone on the inside.  We’ll have to wait and see what happens, but at least it’s hopeful.

After all the “fun” from Grandparents’ Day on Saturday, the school is quite a mess.  Upper management expects us to be pristine in our appearance, but we found out they won’t pay for a cleaning service to come in and take care of it.  Guess who gets to do the cleaning…I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.  (Funny, I don’t remember applying for a janitorial service job.)

Marjorie’s surgery went well, and I am muddling through her duties, as well as mine, as best I can.  I still don’t have a password to get into the accounting portion of the school’s computer system.  Linda has called at least twice now to find out why it has been held up.  Today she was told that the person who assigns the passwords forgot to do it; the time before, Linda was told the person had been on vacation.  I don’t really care, but the owners will care very much shortly when they don’t get their precious tuition checks processed and deposited in their bank account.

So far, the only “perk” to taking on Marjorie’s duties is that I also (albeit, temporarily) get to sit at her desk.  No more perching on the broken cane chair for Annie for a few weeks!  Hurray!  My backside is grateful.

It is Columbus Day and despite the fact that our school was closed today, we still had to work.  It was an in-service day.  Heaven forbid we should have the day off.  How could we even think that would be a possibility?  (Sorry for the sarcasm.)  Yes, another day of being trained and lectured and bored.  I tried to glean from it what I could, but all I could think about was how nice it would have been to be home with my family today.

As if the last two days weren’t enough away from my children, I had to go in to work today, on a Saturday, for Grandparents’ Day.  The only thing that kept me from really resenting the imposition on my personal time was the happy faces of the children and grandparents.  The children seemed to have a marvelous time showing their grandparents around their classrooms, playing games with them, and having refreshments.  The grandparents seemed appreciative, too, for the most part, some of them a little more able to get around and take part in the festivities than others.  Some of the grandparents looked shockingly young.  Dare I say it?  Some almost looked my age!  I may be one of the older workers at Pemberton, but I am NOT old enough to be a grandparent.  Not yet, anyway.

My own two children are out of school this afternoon and all of tomorrow, but I am not.  It is an odd feeling not being allowed to care for your own children, because you’re supposed to be taking care of everyone else’s.  I don’t like it.