Posts Tagged ‘secretary’

Before we’re allowed to go to the teacher job fair, we’re required to create a packet. This packet should include, in no particular order and in conjunction with a few other requirements, our resume, our set of references and a philosophy statement. I finished these weeks ago, but I wanted our on-staff, full-time faculty adviser to take a look at them. My philosophy statement uses some pretty tough language.

My appointment was two weeks ago, but it never happened.

She was gone all that first week because her dad died. She was gone all last week for the same reason and it was spring break, besides. Therefore, at yesterday’s very first opportunity and at the early hour of 9:15 a.m., I called to schedule something for this week.

The voice coming over the phone tells me that she has plenty of openings for rescheduling this week. Naturally, all of these openings are between the hours of 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. I don’t know about your school’s schedule, so I’ll fill you in: I’m still going at 3 p.m. I’m not sure about her schedule.

You’d think she’d stay as late into the night as it would take to catch up on appointments, especially considering that she was the one who was gone for the last two weeks. I suppose she is, and all those slots are filled, but I am unsympathetic. After all, I am the wronged party, he opined haughtily.

I told the receptionist that yes, indeed, I once had an appointment and, during the alloted appointment time, our full-time faculty adviser had been unavailable. I went back and forth between being placed on hold and bickering for some time until I pulled the “I guess I’ll just have to go without an appointment, then” card.

That worked. I talked to the adviser herself, though undoubtedly in an appointment at the time. It turns out our adviser would be just able to squeeze me in Wednesday at 3:30 p.m.

There are so many ways that this could have been a whole hell of a lot easier. I won’t go into details.

Moral of the story? Never do anything at the last minute. Note that “at the last minute” apparently means six weeks in advance.

This tightly cropped and messed-a-little-with picture, courtesy of Kate, describes the student teaching experience.

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I’m somewhere around week five’s upward trend. Little comfort, because it won’t last very long.

I’m feeling confident about my ability to keep the rapscallions under control, and I’m feeling more and more confident about my ability to plan a lesson that might even teach something they end up learning, but despair is on the horizon.

I’ve already begun to start planning curricula for next year, and it takes a hell of a lot of time. I’m only three weeks into 11th-grade U.S. history. I’m thankful that its three weeks on presidents, maps and timelines double as the first six weeks of 8th-grade U.S. history.

I’d be fine if I didn’t have anything else to do. The chances of nabbing a job teaching American history are slim to none, so I’ll probably end up teaching a different subject while I plan a whole new curriculum.

It’ll be harder, as I’ll have other obligations. You know: making copies, answering phone calls, doing paperwork, grading papers and homework. Oh, and because I’m a new teacher, I’ll get to coach, sponsor or mentor something.

I’ll be busy enough already with contractual obligations. Inevitably, good teaching will have to wait. How depressing.

Moral of the story? Teaching would be an easy job if we all had secretaries. That would leave us time to plan new, exciting or even worthwhile lessons from the get-go.

A recent discussion on this post brought up an interesting hypothetical thought, expanded as follows.
There are two math teachers. Due to budgetary restraints and a surprisingly crowded and eager math department in your average urban public high school, you need to fire one of these newbie teachers.

a. The competent geometry teacher who knows not much more than first-semester calculus, one who has quite a lot of charisma.

b. The resident whiz who knows his math stuff — whatever that entails — but lacks so much charisma. Think Steven Hawking.

Ideally, of course, you want a teacher with the both good qualities and neither caveat. Unfortunately, gene splicing our clones is still morally reprehensible.

For another game, switch out “charisma” for “verbal acuity” or “math” for “a subject area lacking a teacher shortage.”

You have absolute control over the fates of these young people. Scratch that — you have absolute control over the fates of these young gentlemen.

To complicate the issue, in staff meeting behavior and non-pedagogical usefulness they are identical, including the wideness of their smile at the perpetually frustrated secretary who really can’t be bothered right now. If ever in the same room, they’ll say exactly the same thing at exactly the same time, discounting intonation, delivery and personality. It’s starting to annoy the department chair.

Hypothetically, who would you fire?

Oh, and don’t worry; they’re math teachers. Their equally qualified selves will get hired somewhere else.

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