Sub? Credential Up? Would You Like Fries with That?

I used to joke about the fact that I'm a teacher and therefore have no marketable skills.  Other teachers who have been lawyers or in business--they could return to the private sector, but I was stuck in education.  It was funny to say because of course I had no desire to be anywhere else.  I wasn't "stuck"; I loved my job.

Now that I've joined the ranks of the millions of unemployed teachers, my former joke is just not that funny.  A job posted on http://www.edjoin.org/ (California website for jobs in case you are on the hunt, too) is quickly gobbled up.  District paper screening has now become a wondorous exercise where administrators can choose from among hundreds of qualified candidates before they ever have to schedule interviews.  Staying within my district for at least a year or two after my layoff seems to make sense; at least they know me here.  If I move to another city or state, I will line up behind the hundreds they have laid off, the teachers they know and mostly love.  What are my chances then? 

So what do we do, oh teachers not teaching?  Some of us apply to everything and wait for the phone to ring.  Others, like me, have begun substitute teaching.  I will have to write more about this later.  The combination of liberty and humiliation that accomany subbing in your former school deserves its own blog. 

Another option is to "credential up", as I've been calling it.  I don't have lesson plans to write or papers to grade, so I may as well study for other credentials.  Last year, when I knew my layoff was looming, I attempted to stave off the snarling, wretched beast by arming myself with the CSET in Social Science. Taking the first two parts before giving birth to my fifth child and the last part just after returning from my eight week maternity leave, I felt I might make myself invaluable.  My logic was that if they had to cut sections from my department again, then being a utility player made sense.  Unfortunately, my district apparently doesn't have the budget of the New York Yankees.  If they cut in English, they also cut in Social Science.  Last year the cuts were deep enough that cobbling together a two-department schedule didn't happen. 

"I'm sorry, we're putting you on waivers, Mrs. Weigel.  We just don't need someone with a gold glove and a .327 average."

My theory might have made it into practice if my administration had made different choices, but that, too, is another blog...or another legal brief...I haven't decided.  My principal now likes to remind me that I didn't officially have my social science credential until after the March 15 deadline for layoffs. He's actually right about that.  The third test was scheduled the Saturday after my Monday c-section on March 8.  I'm such a slacker. I mean isn't that why they have morphine?


Whatever my hopeful plans were, doubling my credentials failed to save my job.  However, I will not be deterred!  Give me more #2 pencils!  Point me toward the community college testing center!  I am now embarking on a multiple subject credential.  This quest is more daunting considering I haven't given math much thought in the past twenty-three years.  My worthy and formidable opponents--Geometry and Algebra-- may be my downfall.  I already sense a cold fear when my ten year old queries, "Mom, can you help me with my math?"  It's unlikely that I would apply for a job as a fourth grade teacher who has to teach math.  Cold fear on a daily basis just isn't a positive work environment.  However,  I might want a seventh grade core class where I could teach social studies and English, so it's back to my Kaplan review book and prayers:  repeated, desperate, humble prayers that the Lord will just mercifully allow me to pass. 

It seemed to work last time when I took the World Civ. portion of the CSET after spending the night before the test hosting a birthday party for my eight year old and four of her friends, followed by my two year old's vomit fest -- Performances every twenty minutes!  Midnight till 6:00 AM!  No Cover!  I went bleary-eyed with no caffeine to my test.  (Nursing that newborn, remember?  Sheesh!  Keep up!)  The fact that I passed is simply more evidence that there is an all-powerful God who is merciful because I didn't study.  I didn't sleep.  I didn't follow any of the sound test-taking strategies we all lecture about to our students.  I didn't even eat breakfast for crying out loud.  I was the Standardized Testing "Don't" Cartoon with a black box over my eyes, and I still passed.  Thank you, Lord.

While I pray for Divine Intervention again, I also study math long-forgotten.  I review the parts of the cell, research child development, and remind myself again about phonemes and morphology.  I do it all because I need a job, any job, and it will probably be in teaching.  It's hard to sell yourself for a marketing position by explaining that you've been "selling" curriculum to judgemental and apathetic teenagers for years.  Do I have "management experience"?  Well, I've been managing 175-200 people everyday for 180 days per year.  And my clients are not easy to manage!  The skills are there, but they are in such a foreign context for the business world that it's difficult to make a career jump fourteen years later.  I'm "credentialing up" because I have to.  I love to teach.  I want to teach, but for now, I'm just subbing, studying, and embracing my new normal as a...

Teacher Not Teaching

Mom, what's for dinner?

It's Saturday, so if you're a teacher, you might have had a hearty, delicious dinner with your family.  I mean soccer season isn't in full swing, so you weren't at a field somewhere all day, right?  Not teaching has allowed me to reflect upon how poorly I plan for dinner.  You might think that after five children and a decade to become a working mom diva, I might be able to fix dinner regularly.  Alas...

Yet unemployment has also meant no excuses.  I can't say I have papers to grade, or that a needy parent had me on the phone after school.  There are no staff meetings (let me just pause and allow the bliss of that reality to wash over me like a cool, refreshing spring).  Therefore, when my two year old pipes up at 4:00 PM with "Mommy, what's fo dinnow?"  I should have an answer. 

For the past two weeks I've managed to compile a weekly menu for dinner.  Yes, Teacher X, after taking roll and passing out that oh-so-meaningful worksheet, I planned meals. 

How did I do it?   

1.  My own, poor brain.

2.  My husband's wonderful cookbook of family recipes, lovingly compiled over the past ten years.  Someday I'll convince him to publish it, and we will finally retire wealthy, well-fed and satisfied, but for now, it just helps.

3.  http://www.allrecipes.com/


4. http://www.foodnetwork.com/ :  Giada and Alton, if you're out there, will you marry each other and become my family's Alice?  We'll build a room off the kitchen.

5.  Refusing to turn into the drive-thru line, either by sheer force of will, or by guilt upon recalling the articles on child obesity and fast food marketing that I forced my senior classes to analyze. 

These have helped me actually know what's for dinner and stick to it.  Also, I had to stick to it because I bought the weekly groceries at one time.  Some of you are thinking, "So what?"  For me, this is a minor miracle.  I like to joke that we enjoy shopping like Europeans, but really I'm at my local grocery store everyday because I haven't planned ahead.  I'm trying to leave behind the relaxed, no-structure attitude of my twenties...

I left the body, the freedom, and the red wine behind, so why not the slacking as well? 

Time will tell if I can continue this small, sweet structure of knowing what's for dinner.  Until I'm teaching again, there may be hope. 

What do you tell your two-year old?  What's fo dinnow at yo house?

39 Months and Counting...

Thirty-nine months.  That's how long I have until my district, the one I've devoted myself to for the past eight years, formally ends my layoff package and wishes me a sad farewell.  That's a long time, but it's perhaps not long enough to recapture the students lost to the competing charter school (read: we'll give your kids a laptop and not require that they read anything, so come on down!), not long enough to generate jobs in a local economy of fast food, retail, and...what the heck do people do for a living here?  People certainly don't open new businesses in the 65% of retail space currently unoccupied in our small town.
 Therefore, those thirty-nine months may not be enough time for my superintendent to call me one fateful morning with those words I long to hear, "I have good news.  We'd like to invite you back."   However, thirty-nine months is plenty long enough to watch Bank of America politely take back my house, and to see my family migrate like modern-day Joads in the opposite direction, in search of work and a new home.  Ah, California schools.  Livin' the dream. 

It's probably obvious this is my first blog, but I have time on my hands, so I thought I'd give it a try.  If you are an unemployed teacher, join in!  Commiserate!  If you are still holding onto your job, this blog will make you appreciate your sick leave and prep period, and envy the fact that I'm blogging and not grading poorly written essays about the symbolic significance of card games in Of Mice and Men.  Yes, high school English teacher; you got me.  You may be surprised to find that this California teacher has just as much frustration for my union as for my administration.  The "Public School Question", like "The Woman Question" in 19th Century England is complicated, and the answers won't be simple.  But, if you're reading this, you already knew that.

I'm currently subbing in my own district, so after fourteen years of teaching, an M.A. in Education and endless hours of meaningful curriculum development and assessment, I am reduced to taking roll, pushing "Play" on the DVD, and passing out worksheets.  You know we can't be trusted.  I understand.  I was once you, but now I'm just a...

Teacher Not Teaching.