New Beginnings
It's been a long time since I've written but I'd really like to get myself into the habit of doing this daily.
So here's what's going on today: it's the first day of school (for teachers). In the beginning of August, I was hearing (and reading online) fellow teachers lamenting the fact that summer was coming to an end. It's fine, I thought! I love my job! I have plans for next year! I was going to start a blog of book reviews. I was going to work more closely with the arts teachers and their seniors. I was going to upgrade my book club to make it more interesting.
And then. I got a call from someone at central office asking if my special ed certification was still valid. It is, but I asked why. She said, "I wanted to talk to you about the recent changes in your life." I said, "I wasn't aware that my life was changing." Long story short, the superintendent cut my position. In a move to save money, she decided that a bunch of librarians and school counselors were just not needed, and she cut me. It was purely based on saving money and seniority. It didn't matter how good I was at my job. She didn't care.
So now I am put back into a special ed position. I'm at a school where I know nobody, across town from my old one. I did meet with the principal, who seems great. I also met with the woman whose job I'm stepping into. (She left on her own. She wasn't laid off.) I learned a few things, one of which was that in this school the special ed teachers don't really get prep periods. That will change. I have no problem bringing that to the union and complaining. My new desk is held together with duct tape. Literally. Two of the drawers won't open because of the tape. The custodian told me he would try to get me a better one. If he can't I will buy my own damn desk because I am a professional and I need a workspace that actually functions.
Guys, I am bitter. I am sad. I am angry. The last time I worked in special ed, it really affected my mental and physical health. It's a very stressful job. It's not the kids. It's their parents and it's the endless paperwork with legal deadlines. And I had an extremely horrible coworker last time, which my boyfriend keeps reminding me won't be the problem this time. At least that guy's not there! Boyfriend has been trying to make me feel better but there have been so many tears. I worked so hard to change my life and get out of special ed and find a job I loved. I found one. I was great at it. I felt challenged and respected and was allowed to be creative. And now I'm being sent back to the job I hated. Literally back to hell. Of course, I keep hearing that I should be grateful to just have a job but I'm not there yet.
I went back to my library the other day and packed up all the things I'd brought to work over the past two years. Pictures that were on my desk of my mom, my cats, and Boyfriend and me. The calendar of my nephews that my sister and BIL made us for Christmas. Board games and Halloween decorations, and my little shelf of action figures and dolls of famous authors and figures from history. My framed posters that I bought from the Mark Twain House and the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. The apple-shaped pad of paper that was a gift from my first practicum teacher back in 1998. Yup, I still have it. It was a lot of stuff. Some of it I've already found homes for here in our apartment. The literary toys are set up on my little bookshelf on the stairs. I've started putting up some of the fall decorations since it's that time. And the desk stuff is in a tote bag ready to come with me to my new job today.
I'm really not OK with this. I don't think I ever will be. My old desk was huge and beautiful and wooden, with two working computers. I had a prep time. I freaking loved that job. Did I mention that?
So now I'm going to focus on self-care for the rest of 2018. I haven't lost any weight and I need to, so I'm going to work out every day. I'm going to adhere to my diet. I'm going to get enough sleep. I'm going to read and study my foreign languages every day. I need to make some kind of routine to make sure I do it all. It will be good for me in the long run.
So here's what's going on today: it's the first day of school (for teachers). In the beginning of August, I was hearing (and reading online) fellow teachers lamenting the fact that summer was coming to an end. It's fine, I thought! I love my job! I have plans for next year! I was going to start a blog of book reviews. I was going to work more closely with the arts teachers and their seniors. I was going to upgrade my book club to make it more interesting.
And then. I got a call from someone at central office asking if my special ed certification was still valid. It is, but I asked why. She said, "I wanted to talk to you about the recent changes in your life." I said, "I wasn't aware that my life was changing." Long story short, the superintendent cut my position. In a move to save money, she decided that a bunch of librarians and school counselors were just not needed, and she cut me. It was purely based on saving money and seniority. It didn't matter how good I was at my job. She didn't care.
So now I am put back into a special ed position. I'm at a school where I know nobody, across town from my old one. I did meet with the principal, who seems great. I also met with the woman whose job I'm stepping into. (She left on her own. She wasn't laid off.) I learned a few things, one of which was that in this school the special ed teachers don't really get prep periods. That will change. I have no problem bringing that to the union and complaining. My new desk is held together with duct tape. Literally. Two of the drawers won't open because of the tape. The custodian told me he would try to get me a better one. If he can't I will buy my own damn desk because I am a professional and I need a workspace that actually functions.
Guys, I am bitter. I am sad. I am angry. The last time I worked in special ed, it really affected my mental and physical health. It's a very stressful job. It's not the kids. It's their parents and it's the endless paperwork with legal deadlines. And I had an extremely horrible coworker last time, which my boyfriend keeps reminding me won't be the problem this time. At least that guy's not there! Boyfriend has been trying to make me feel better but there have been so many tears. I worked so hard to change my life and get out of special ed and find a job I loved. I found one. I was great at it. I felt challenged and respected and was allowed to be creative. And now I'm being sent back to the job I hated. Literally back to hell. Of course, I keep hearing that I should be grateful to just have a job but I'm not there yet.
I went back to my library the other day and packed up all the things I'd brought to work over the past two years. Pictures that were on my desk of my mom, my cats, and Boyfriend and me. The calendar of my nephews that my sister and BIL made us for Christmas. Board games and Halloween decorations, and my little shelf of action figures and dolls of famous authors and figures from history. My framed posters that I bought from the Mark Twain House and the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. The apple-shaped pad of paper that was a gift from my first practicum teacher back in 1998. Yup, I still have it. It was a lot of stuff. Some of it I've already found homes for here in our apartment. The literary toys are set up on my little bookshelf on the stairs. I've started putting up some of the fall decorations since it's that time. And the desk stuff is in a tote bag ready to come with me to my new job today.
I'm really not OK with this. I don't think I ever will be. My old desk was huge and beautiful and wooden, with two working computers. I had a prep time. I freaking loved that job. Did I mention that?
So now I'm going to focus on self-care for the rest of 2018. I haven't lost any weight and I need to, so I'm going to work out every day. I'm going to adhere to my diet. I'm going to get enough sleep. I'm going to read and study my foreign languages every day. I need to make some kind of routine to make sure I do it all. It will be good for me in the long run.
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