(I cannot emphasize the "r" in the title enough. CART lady, not cat lady. I have to draw the line somewhere).
I'll explain the title via an equation:
Certified high school English teacher + no classroom = cart lady
A couple days ago I had a meeting at Lehi high where I'll be teaching in the fall (you don't know this because I never bother to mention anything remotely pertinent on this blog. Sorry). Toward the start of the meeting the head of my department casually said, "...and you know you're a traveling teacher, right?"
Here's what happened in my head: First, I imagined tearing my shirt in half grief-style, while yelling: "No, I didn't know that! That's why all my teacher-fantasies have included decorating my classroom and being super organized and finally finally having my own space! I was going to hang Jack Handy quotes on the wall!" Followed by me hitting my head repeatedly on a desk.
Here's what happened in real life: "Oh."
Essentially, the district is unable to build schools as fast as we need them, so teachers are having to share their classrooms to supplement the growing demand. For me, this means I'll be teaching in four different classrooms and hauling my crap on a cart in between class periods. I'll be homeless.
I dealt with this blow in the following stages:
1. Denial. (this followed shortly after the scenario above). "Oh? No classroom? Well that's great, actually. I'm too much of a free spirit anyway. I'd rather be homeless--what an adventure!" (And I continued trying to channel star-girl attitude).
2. Admitting disappointment. I almost tricked myself into thinking I was happy about the gypsy-esque nature of my job but then, when I was home and cleaning my kitchen, I let out a sigh and said, "Crap." Once this was said, my star-girl facade faded.
3. Chocolate chip-eating. This was the only treat I could find in our inadequately-treat-stocked apartment.
4."Oh, well."
Whining is not going to change the fact that I don't have a classroom. So, despite this being a far from ideal situation, I'm going to have to make the best of it. I think I'm (maybe) up for the challenge. After brainstorming with my family, here are some activities I'll be able to do as a cart lady that would have otherwise gone untapped:
1. Entering class daily in a weird pose atop a rolling cart.
2. Selling candy bars to students from my cart/trolley between classes to supplement my low income. (I'm particularly fond of this idea).
3. Bedazzling said cart.
4. "Accidentally" ramming annoying students with cart.
5. Riding cart down ramp while squealing, "weeeeeee."
Wish me luck. Oh, and here's my "classroom":
I'll explain the title via an equation:
Certified high school English teacher + no classroom = cart lady
A couple days ago I had a meeting at Lehi high where I'll be teaching in the fall (you don't know this because I never bother to mention anything remotely pertinent on this blog. Sorry). Toward the start of the meeting the head of my department casually said, "...and you know you're a traveling teacher, right?"
Here's what happened in my head: First, I imagined tearing my shirt in half grief-style, while yelling: "No, I didn't know that! That's why all my teacher-fantasies have included decorating my classroom and being super organized and finally finally having my own space! I was going to hang Jack Handy quotes on the wall!" Followed by me hitting my head repeatedly on a desk.
Here's what happened in real life: "Oh."
Essentially, the district is unable to build schools as fast as we need them, so teachers are having to share their classrooms to supplement the growing demand. For me, this means I'll be teaching in four different classrooms and hauling my crap on a cart in between class periods. I'll be homeless.
I dealt with this blow in the following stages:
1. Denial. (this followed shortly after the scenario above). "Oh? No classroom? Well that's great, actually. I'm too much of a free spirit anyway. I'd rather be homeless--what an adventure!" (And I continued trying to channel star-girl attitude).
2. Admitting disappointment. I almost tricked myself into thinking I was happy about the gypsy-esque nature of my job but then, when I was home and cleaning my kitchen, I let out a sigh and said, "Crap." Once this was said, my star-girl facade faded.
3. Chocolate chip-eating. This was the only treat I could find in our inadequately-treat-stocked apartment.
4."Oh, well."
Whining is not going to change the fact that I don't have a classroom. So, despite this being a far from ideal situation, I'm going to have to make the best of it. I think I'm (maybe) up for the challenge. After brainstorming with my family, here are some activities I'll be able to do as a cart lady that would have otherwise gone untapped:
1. Entering class daily in a weird pose atop a rolling cart.
2. Selling candy bars to students from my cart/trolley between classes to supplement my low income. (I'm particularly fond of this idea).
3. Bedazzling said cart.
4. "Accidentally" ramming annoying students with cart.
5. Riding cart down ramp while squealing, "weeeeeee."
Wish me luck. Oh, and here's my "classroom":
I have no idea why blogger has highlighted and provided ads at random. Please excuse.
ReplyDeleteOh that stinks! Prof. Grierson got all of our hopes up, I guess. Haha.
ReplyDeleteI think you should pretend you are the which selling chocolate frogs on the Hogwarts Express.
All of the above sound like good coping methods. Also I love your blog. You are so funny. I am still waiting to hear about my own classroom... But I won't lie, I have expressed my fear to my husband that I too will have... A Cart.
ReplyDeleteFunny blog! Glad I stumbled into you. Being a traveling teacher isn't so bad. You'll be like that hippie guy from Fiddler on the Roof who married the middle daughter.
ReplyDelete