The metaphor of reading a book and closing it's cover is definitely overused. However, it's used often because it seems so suitable. Just like the seasons, all things come to an end.
I have exactly 10 days of teaching left before final exams arrive for my classes. Therefore, each block of students only has 5 remaining classes until they are completely finished for the year (other than the final exam the following week). Not only is this ending, but so is rec volleyball (playoffs are on Wednesday) as it my training for my 25k trail race (takes place Saturday). By the time July hits, my weekly schedule will be blank. In many ways, it makes me sad... but in many ways, it can't come soon enough. I'm exhausted quite regularly, my marking pile never seems to disappear, and there's always some student problem to fix. Also, it seems like when I'm in the house, K isn't and vice versa and now that she's re-starting cardio bootcamp on Monday, she'll be starting up her busyness (not to mention her new job starts the same day).
I guess we're in a time of flux... we've become distant with the craziness of late, but I can only hope that summer brings sunshine, walks in the parks, and some time to find each other again. Sometimes it's just too easy to lose touch with everything important in life because we get so busy, well, living. Bring me the sunshiney days and starry nights and the loving eyes of the one I love.
T
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The myth of stupid questions
As a teacher, I feel as though I need to clarify the age-old idea of "there are no stupid questions".
My response to this? It's B.S. Why do I think that? Let me tell you (in a round-about way that comes back to the question later...
Students can be lazy. No, not all students, and no, not all the time. But quite often, they're lazy. They want the teacher to do the work FOR them. They want to sit back and "learn" everything through some miraculous form of osmosis I've never encountered... it's like they'd be a great audience for that sort of hypnotic-like sleep learning where you play a CD with information on it while you sleep and when you awake... EUREKA! Brains!
I got in an argument with a student a few months ago about something similar. Yes, I realize that, as the adult in the situation, I should not argue with students. However, she insisted. She was upset that I was unfairly negative to her in class, and that I was always telling her that she was wrong. There was a long history of encounters behind this, but this was definitely one of them. And the thing is: I didn't deny it.
The reason I didn't deny it was because she was CONSTANTLY wrong. Or, at least off-topic. And I'm not the type of person to say that it might be her interpretation and that's fine, but I was looking for something else... I'm a bit more blunt as I want them to understand that it was a myth to believe that anything can be interpreted in any way and, in reality, there are a finite number of ways we can interpret literature. She didn't really appreciate this academic perspective and simply thought I was being "mean".
I'd ask a question about a topic and she'd put up her hand. When I called on her for a response, she'd often get away from the textual discussion at hand and dive into a personal tirade on what she believed. Now, I'm all for having beliefs... but they have their place, and the academic environment of literary analysis isn't it.
An example would go as follows: I begin to make a point that physical descriptions of characters in stories DO NOT dictate WHO the characters are or necessarily what they are like. Just because the character has blonde hair does not mean that the character has any characteristics that only blondes hold (Disclaimer: I'm very aware that some authors do, in fact, utilize physical descriptions in order to develop a certain facet of a personality. William Golding does this shamelessly in Lord of the Flies). However, I wanted to make the point that when we discuss character in a story, the physical description is generally meaningless unless the author intentionally connects the two. In essence, it was a discussion about stereotyping and unfair assumptions being made without evidence to support it, which is a much more universal lesson than they realize... we, as readers must rely on evidence from three main sources: what the character says, how the character acts, and what the other characters (or the narrator) say about the character in question.
I connected this to our real lives... I made a comment that, "Just because Joe-Blow dyes his hair doesn't mean I can assume anything about his personlity. I could, but I would be working on stereotypical assumptions. This is the same as saying this: Bobby-Lou has blonde hair so she must be unintelligent." So, my little friend put up her hand and said, "If you knew Joe-Blow, you'd know that the dye-job DOES say something about him." I conceded the fact that this was wholly possible, just like blonde girls can be unintelligent and skinny guys with glasses can be interested in Friday nights spent working out mathematical equations. I explained, though, that in literary analysis we cannot assume this and we MUST focus on evidence from the text. The same goes for life.
Did she just let it go? Nope. She kept on going. She explained that she could tell things about people by the way they dressed. I explained to her that she was starting to get away from the point and the whole problem with stereotypes is that they're often inaccurate or completely untrue. Did this deter her? Not a chance. She kept going, trying to convince me that everyone is limited to how they dress in her mind, so she should be able to talk about it in her paragraph. Just to be able to move on, I pointed out that the fact that she was simply wrong because it was a superficial assumption and she simply couldn't do so, especially in a liteary response. Her response? She got upset and started making rude comments about me to her friend.
There was also an essay written about a moral dilemma... we'd talked about moral dilemmas in a short story and then I gave them a news article, asking them if the man in the article SHOULD have received a reduced sentence in jail for carrying out a mercy killing on his daughter who suffered from cerebral palsy, constant pain, and had the developmental capacity of a three-month old (she was 12). In her essay, she made countless errors in various areas, and ended off by saying, "I know [the daughter] would have been sad to see her dad go to jail. And I know that God would have forgiven him, so why can't the government?" I explained that these personal assumptions were fine to hold in her own worldview, but their overtly personal and unfounded nature had no place in a formal persuasive essay. Her response? I was unfair and she could believe that if she wanted. Again, there was a complete disconnect between what the expectation of the assignment was and my explanation of instructions, and what she wanted to say and believe. This was only one episode out of many (so don't assume that I overreacted in one isolated situation), and although I could've borne a single confrontation, repeated challenges of this sort without a sincere interest in actually improving and understanding the perspective of the other person deflate me to the point where I find that I lose all patience in the matter.
It got me thinking about a lot of things, and frustrated me to no end. It made me realize that some kids don't want to learn or understand or improve their skills... they simply want someone to take their word for it... they don't understand that without an interest in understanding and learning from their mistakes (and they do, in fact, make many mistakes), they just won't improve and succeed.
This brings me the long way around to the quote I put up on the board in my room (I have a whiteboard behind my desk that I fill up with quotes about various things from famous people)...
"Some say that there are no stupid questions, but we must be quick to see the flaw in such reasoning... unless the question is asked with a sincere interest in the pursuit of truth and knowledge, all questions find futility."
I didn't attribute the quote to anyone, which surprisingly made the words garner more interest than most of my other quotes. A few students asked who said it... I simply responded with the question of, "what do you think?" Most said they liked it, and only then did I attribute the saying to someone... me (yes... this is a shameless celebration of my nugget of wisdom. Just passing it on)
:)
T
My response to this? It's B.S. Why do I think that? Let me tell you (in a round-about way that comes back to the question later...
Students can be lazy. No, not all students, and no, not all the time. But quite often, they're lazy. They want the teacher to do the work FOR them. They want to sit back and "learn" everything through some miraculous form of osmosis I've never encountered... it's like they'd be a great audience for that sort of hypnotic-like sleep learning where you play a CD with information on it while you sleep and when you awake... EUREKA! Brains!
I got in an argument with a student a few months ago about something similar. Yes, I realize that, as the adult in the situation, I should not argue with students. However, she insisted. She was upset that I was unfairly negative to her in class, and that I was always telling her that she was wrong. There was a long history of encounters behind this, but this was definitely one of them. And the thing is: I didn't deny it.
The reason I didn't deny it was because she was CONSTANTLY wrong. Or, at least off-topic. And I'm not the type of person to say that it might be her interpretation and that's fine, but I was looking for something else... I'm a bit more blunt as I want them to understand that it was a myth to believe that anything can be interpreted in any way and, in reality, there are a finite number of ways we can interpret literature. She didn't really appreciate this academic perspective and simply thought I was being "mean".
I'd ask a question about a topic and she'd put up her hand. When I called on her for a response, she'd often get away from the textual discussion at hand and dive into a personal tirade on what she believed. Now, I'm all for having beliefs... but they have their place, and the academic environment of literary analysis isn't it.
An example would go as follows: I begin to make a point that physical descriptions of characters in stories DO NOT dictate WHO the characters are or necessarily what they are like. Just because the character has blonde hair does not mean that the character has any characteristics that only blondes hold (Disclaimer: I'm very aware that some authors do, in fact, utilize physical descriptions in order to develop a certain facet of a personality. William Golding does this shamelessly in Lord of the Flies). However, I wanted to make the point that when we discuss character in a story, the physical description is generally meaningless unless the author intentionally connects the two. In essence, it was a discussion about stereotyping and unfair assumptions being made without evidence to support it, which is a much more universal lesson than they realize... we, as readers must rely on evidence from three main sources: what the character says, how the character acts, and what the other characters (or the narrator) say about the character in question.
I connected this to our real lives... I made a comment that, "Just because Joe-Blow dyes his hair doesn't mean I can assume anything about his personlity. I could, but I would be working on stereotypical assumptions. This is the same as saying this: Bobby-Lou has blonde hair so she must be unintelligent." So, my little friend put up her hand and said, "If you knew Joe-Blow, you'd know that the dye-job DOES say something about him." I conceded the fact that this was wholly possible, just like blonde girls can be unintelligent and skinny guys with glasses can be interested in Friday nights spent working out mathematical equations. I explained, though, that in literary analysis we cannot assume this and we MUST focus on evidence from the text. The same goes for life.
Did she just let it go? Nope. She kept on going. She explained that she could tell things about people by the way they dressed. I explained to her that she was starting to get away from the point and the whole problem with stereotypes is that they're often inaccurate or completely untrue. Did this deter her? Not a chance. She kept going, trying to convince me that everyone is limited to how they dress in her mind, so she should be able to talk about it in her paragraph. Just to be able to move on, I pointed out that the fact that she was simply wrong because it was a superficial assumption and she simply couldn't do so, especially in a liteary response. Her response? She got upset and started making rude comments about me to her friend.
There was also an essay written about a moral dilemma... we'd talked about moral dilemmas in a short story and then I gave them a news article, asking them if the man in the article SHOULD have received a reduced sentence in jail for carrying out a mercy killing on his daughter who suffered from cerebral palsy, constant pain, and had the developmental capacity of a three-month old (she was 12). In her essay, she made countless errors in various areas, and ended off by saying, "I know [the daughter] would have been sad to see her dad go to jail. And I know that God would have forgiven him, so why can't the government?" I explained that these personal assumptions were fine to hold in her own worldview, but their overtly personal and unfounded nature had no place in a formal persuasive essay. Her response? I was unfair and she could believe that if she wanted. Again, there was a complete disconnect between what the expectation of the assignment was and my explanation of instructions, and what she wanted to say and believe. This was only one episode out of many (so don't assume that I overreacted in one isolated situation), and although I could've borne a single confrontation, repeated challenges of this sort without a sincere interest in actually improving and understanding the perspective of the other person deflate me to the point where I find that I lose all patience in the matter.
It got me thinking about a lot of things, and frustrated me to no end. It made me realize that some kids don't want to learn or understand or improve their skills... they simply want someone to take their word for it... they don't understand that without an interest in understanding and learning from their mistakes (and they do, in fact, make many mistakes), they just won't improve and succeed.
This brings me the long way around to the quote I put up on the board in my room (I have a whiteboard behind my desk that I fill up with quotes about various things from famous people)...
"Some say that there are no stupid questions, but we must be quick to see the flaw in such reasoning... unless the question is asked with a sincere interest in the pursuit of truth and knowledge, all questions find futility."
I didn't attribute the quote to anyone, which surprisingly made the words garner more interest than most of my other quotes. A few students asked who said it... I simply responded with the question of, "what do you think?" Most said they liked it, and only then did I attribute the saying to someone... me (yes... this is a shameless celebration of my nugget of wisdom. Just passing it on)
:)
T
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Days
I know pretty much nothing about Einstein's Theory of Relativity. However, I think today is one of those days that proves his theory. The influence of emotion and sensation on the human experience determines time, determines space, and so many other things. In all reality, it determines life. Today drags, and continues, and meanders miserably and slowly into the grey, overcast, Tuesday afternoon. The end of work signals nothing more than a transition to something else, but but the transition will only bring more slow movement... more silent voids.
Only anxiety remains strong.
T
Only anxiety remains strong.
T
Monday, May 19, 2008
The (in)ability to embrace uncertainty
Some days, I feel like a walking paradox. I need structure, but I rail against it. I need certainty, but I provide myself and others with none. I often despise ambiguity and just want it told to me straight, but I, myself, am ambiguous and ambivalent and I don't know what to do about it. I need control, but give it up to others regularly. I can take charge, but I don't mind being the sheep. I thrive in the quiet, but idleness makes me crazy. And I want patience from others, but I fail to be patient myself.
The previous few months have shown me exactly this. My last post likely hinted at it. I get inside my head and become trapped, uncertain, scratching to escape. I know I need to let go of things, but I hold on to them greedily, like a rottweiler. Can it be that I hold the key to my own imprisonment? If so, why do I insist on hiding my mode of escape?
I realize this is clear as mud and likely makes little sense to the three friends who continue to indulge this wholly egotistical practice of blogging, but we all need an outlet. Running has been one of the latest outlets, but I can only run so far and so long before body gives out and my mind remains. But the impulse to write stays strong, just as it did when I was just an angsty teen looking for an argument or some way to engage with the world around me. So I guess I'll keep on writing and trying to figure out my life. Pen to paper, foot to pavement... question to question to question...
T
The previous few months have shown me exactly this. My last post likely hinted at it. I get inside my head and become trapped, uncertain, scratching to escape. I know I need to let go of things, but I hold on to them greedily, like a rottweiler. Can it be that I hold the key to my own imprisonment? If so, why do I insist on hiding my mode of escape?
I realize this is clear as mud and likely makes little sense to the three friends who continue to indulge this wholly egotistical practice of blogging, but we all need an outlet. Running has been one of the latest outlets, but I can only run so far and so long before body gives out and my mind remains. But the impulse to write stays strong, just as it did when I was just an angsty teen looking for an argument or some way to engage with the world around me. So I guess I'll keep on writing and trying to figure out my life. Pen to paper, foot to pavement... question to question to question...
T
Monday, May 12, 2008
The pursuit of tangibility
I have a fundamental flaw in my ability to believe. I'm a skeptic… a cynic… a person who is often unwilling to take things at face value. I need proof… something tangible I can hold in my hand, hold up against a light, sink my teeth into in order to prove its validity and value. At the end of the day I need something I can grab onto without doubt… if doubt exists for any reason, I may release it unto its own accord. Show me God and I will show you faith. Aye… but there's the rub.
How can any man believe without seeing… trust without knowing for certain? I need to see… to trust… to be shown. But what of faith? By definition, faith is not something proven, but something trusted without this structure… without proof… without the solid foundation of tangibility. It lies outside the human sensory experience and must exist intellectually. It is a time where we must abandon the "seeing is believing" mentality to dive head-first into the pool that is faith. Herein lies the problem. My problem? What if my pool of faith is too shallow for such diving? What if I feel as though my pool has been tainted… how does it become clean? I'm not sure if this will make sense, but is it even possible to taint such a pool? Is it possible to drain such a sea?
Not only do I feel a need for tangible proof in anything deemed suspicious or uncertain, but other areas of my neediness have created problems in my relationships as well. I'm quick to trust, but also quick to be cautious. I'm quick to love, but also quick to be critical. I give much of myself, but I also need reinforcement and support. It's like I'm extremely willing to empty the contents of my cup, but I'm also quick to need it refilled in return. I am not so selfless that I can give without receiving… I'm not referring to goods and things, but emotional needs. I give, but I must also get.
How do we go about releasing the anxiety related to losing sight of our faith to return to a place where faith is regained or rediscovered? I guess this is my path… my journey.
As C.S. Lewis said, "For the longest way round is the shortest way home."
T
How can any man believe without seeing… trust without knowing for certain? I need to see… to trust… to be shown. But what of faith? By definition, faith is not something proven, but something trusted without this structure… without proof… without the solid foundation of tangibility. It lies outside the human sensory experience and must exist intellectually. It is a time where we must abandon the "seeing is believing" mentality to dive head-first into the pool that is faith. Herein lies the problem. My problem? What if my pool of faith is too shallow for such diving? What if I feel as though my pool has been tainted… how does it become clean? I'm not sure if this will make sense, but is it even possible to taint such a pool? Is it possible to drain such a sea?
Not only do I feel a need for tangible proof in anything deemed suspicious or uncertain, but other areas of my neediness have created problems in my relationships as well. I'm quick to trust, but also quick to be cautious. I'm quick to love, but also quick to be critical. I give much of myself, but I also need reinforcement and support. It's like I'm extremely willing to empty the contents of my cup, but I'm also quick to need it refilled in return. I am not so selfless that I can give without receiving… I'm not referring to goods and things, but emotional needs. I give, but I must also get.
How do we go about releasing the anxiety related to losing sight of our faith to return to a place where faith is regained or rediscovered? I guess this is my path… my journey.
As C.S. Lewis said, "For the longest way round is the shortest way home."
T
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Fighting the rain
The forecast wasn't wonderful. Leaving the house at 6:30am, I knew the cosmos may not conspire to give us sunshine, but I guess they were willing to conspire in one way. How was I to know that the conspiracy would feature rain and wind and more rain?
I shook out the nerves I was feeling as the race approached. After reaching the destination and hopping on the bus out to the start line, I could feel the nervous butterflies beating actively in my gut. "There's nothing to be nervous about... this is just for fun." It's funny how there are things you know... but all the knowing in the world can't help you shake the fact that you feel something else, contradictory and completely unavoidable.
We arrived and hopped off the bus, and I noticed that although it was obviously overcast and a bit chilly, rain was absent. It was dry on this part of the road, so I thought maybe, just maybe it wouldn't be too bad. I saw our fearless leader... the man who has been running my training clinic for the past few months, and you could sense the excitment in him. This was just another day on the road for him... another day to strap on the shoes and give 'er. I could sense his relaxation and thought again that there's nothing to be nervous about... just put one foot in front of the other and you'll be fine.
The race began and the action plan went through the window. I planned to start off at a slow pace... barely a jog, and pick it up a bit each kilometre. Unfortunately, my feet had other plans and within a minute I was striding at my typical pace comfortably. I knew this may not be the best idea, but sometimes I just let the feet do the talking. I'd never run a road race of this distance before, but I wasn't about to get in an argument with the things that were getting me home. I shut out the intimidation of the uber-runners with their fancy gear and years of experience, and simply put rubber to the pavement.
A few minutes later, the sky started changing and soon it was spitting. And the wind picked up slightly. And the spitting trickle turned into a more intense spray. And the spray turned into rain. By mile four, I was soaked. By mile five, I could hear sloshing in my shoes. And by mile six, I could feel my jacket collecting rain and become more heavy and begin to slowly shred my nipples, a layer of skin at a time. Because of this predicament, off came the jacket. But then it was cold. But at least my shirt wasn't moving around... I'd rather feel the slapping of my wet jacket against my legs than the uncomfortable burning sensation on my sensitive parts.
Needless to say, I slogged through the final four miles in some discomfort. I haven't discovered the joy of bodyglide quite yet, but an investment will be made soon. I ended up running the race in a respectable time (1:18:50), but I'm paying for it... sore chest (bleedy nipples), lower-back chafing, and some mild leg pain from I-have-no-idea what. But it's over and done with and I happy to say I did it. The route featured some fantastic scenery and I was pleased with my performance... my breathing and gait were contolled, the hills didn't bother me, and I think if the weather was better, I may have shaved off a number of minutes from my time. But, a pancake breakfast and some dry clothes at the finish did well to soothe the discomfort. Mmmm... pancakes.
I have another 5 weeks to go until the race I'm actually prepping for. I'm still somewhat scared because it's much longer (more than 1/2 marathon length), and there's a tonne of hills, but it should be a good test for me. And should be something I can be proud of for a while to come (as long as I don't die). I'd spend more time explaining my plans, but I've got a leg to ice.
T
I shook out the nerves I was feeling as the race approached. After reaching the destination and hopping on the bus out to the start line, I could feel the nervous butterflies beating actively in my gut. "There's nothing to be nervous about... this is just for fun." It's funny how there are things you know... but all the knowing in the world can't help you shake the fact that you feel something else, contradictory and completely unavoidable.
We arrived and hopped off the bus, and I noticed that although it was obviously overcast and a bit chilly, rain was absent. It was dry on this part of the road, so I thought maybe, just maybe it wouldn't be too bad. I saw our fearless leader... the man who has been running my training clinic for the past few months, and you could sense the excitment in him. This was just another day on the road for him... another day to strap on the shoes and give 'er. I could sense his relaxation and thought again that there's nothing to be nervous about... just put one foot in front of the other and you'll be fine.
The race began and the action plan went through the window. I planned to start off at a slow pace... barely a jog, and pick it up a bit each kilometre. Unfortunately, my feet had other plans and within a minute I was striding at my typical pace comfortably. I knew this may not be the best idea, but sometimes I just let the feet do the talking. I'd never run a road race of this distance before, but I wasn't about to get in an argument with the things that were getting me home. I shut out the intimidation of the uber-runners with their fancy gear and years of experience, and simply put rubber to the pavement.
A few minutes later, the sky started changing and soon it was spitting. And the wind picked up slightly. And the spitting trickle turned into a more intense spray. And the spray turned into rain. By mile four, I was soaked. By mile five, I could hear sloshing in my shoes. And by mile six, I could feel my jacket collecting rain and become more heavy and begin to slowly shred my nipples, a layer of skin at a time. Because of this predicament, off came the jacket. But then it was cold. But at least my shirt wasn't moving around... I'd rather feel the slapping of my wet jacket against my legs than the uncomfortable burning sensation on my sensitive parts.
Needless to say, I slogged through the final four miles in some discomfort. I haven't discovered the joy of bodyglide quite yet, but an investment will be made soon. I ended up running the race in a respectable time (1:18:50), but I'm paying for it... sore chest (bleedy nipples), lower-back chafing, and some mild leg pain from I-have-no-idea what. But it's over and done with and I happy to say I did it. The route featured some fantastic scenery and I was pleased with my performance... my breathing and gait were contolled, the hills didn't bother me, and I think if the weather was better, I may have shaved off a number of minutes from my time. But, a pancake breakfast and some dry clothes at the finish did well to soothe the discomfort. Mmmm... pancakes.
I have another 5 weeks to go until the race I'm actually prepping for. I'm still somewhat scared because it's much longer (more than 1/2 marathon length), and there's a tonne of hills, but it should be a good test for me. And should be something I can be proud of for a while to come (as long as I don't die). I'd spend more time explaining my plans, but I've got a leg to ice.
T
Monday, May 05, 2008
Although I knew it had been looming...
... the anniversary has passed. This is a post from just over a year ago, when I lost one of my students from my practicum school.
RIP K.L.
T
RIP K.L.
T
The world of anxiety
It's that time of year again... posting season.
For the non-teachers out there, it is a time of importance only in the areas of getting outside and enjoying fresh air. Sure, for some it is the stressful time of tax season (or the release of stress post-tax-season), but for most persons in Canada, it's just a newly sunny time of year.
For new teachers, though, it's a time of year that is met with a combination of dread and excitement. When I say "posting", I mean the posting of new job opportunities. Gaaa!
Last week it began. It always starts with a round of jobs posted for those who already have (or are in a seniority level where they can apply for) continuing positions in this district. Many of these jobs have certain people in mind, and are posted in such a way that very few people (other than the anticipated prospect) would have the qualifications to take on the role. Examples are similar to this: "Secondary School looking for a qualified individual who can teach the following: senior English, Social Studies, Dance and Psychology". Or... "Senior Math teacher needed who can also teach Physical Education and Foods". Some are simply retirements and people leaving the district, but even those often have a certain someone special in mind.
Realistically, most people aren't qualified in all these random areas and the people that may be qualified are likely not interested in teaching such a smorgasboard of classes. However, the one person who the administrators have in mind IS looking for exactly this job, particularly since it's unlikely that all the necessary qualifications may not be needed when the teaching schedule gets finalized over the summer or early in the fall. Playing politics, people... that's what it is.
The problem with such a system is two-fold: A) You have to be willing to play into the system by doing a bit of sucking up and self-selling... and, B) you must rank high enough on the ladder to actually have the possibility of playing such games. I, my friends, have no such luck. I'm at the bottom of the pole. So, until the leftovers are offered to the non-humans (A.K.A. those without any seniority status), I will be waiting in painful agony for news about work. Likely, it'll be June 23rd before I hear anything solid. Until then, it's all just rumours and hopeful expectations.
On a brighter note (read two ways!), I'm running in a 10-Miler race down in the southern Okanagan on Sunday! It should be lots of fun and good opportunity to see how I do when I'm pushing myself a little bit. I haven't been doing any real road-running as of late, so this'll be a bit of a challenge. Still, there should be a handful of the runners from the running clinic participating, and it's a small crowd that participates. K won't be tagging along because she's abandoning me tomorrow to head down to sunny California with her mom for a family wedding. She's gone until Sunday afternoon, so I'll be zipping down to the Skaha region, running my race, and zipping back before she flies in (as long as I don't die on the course!). While she's gone, I'm going to be a busy boy... volleyball, running, a potluck, a birthday party... oh, and I guess a bit of teaching too... so much to do in so little time!
Hopefully I can actually get some sleep tonight so I'm not a total wreck for the rest of the week. As we all know, though, hope is a feathered thing my friends, so I guess we'll just have to see how it all comes out in the wash.
T
For the non-teachers out there, it is a time of importance only in the areas of getting outside and enjoying fresh air. Sure, for some it is the stressful time of tax season (or the release of stress post-tax-season), but for most persons in Canada, it's just a newly sunny time of year.
For new teachers, though, it's a time of year that is met with a combination of dread and excitement. When I say "posting", I mean the posting of new job opportunities. Gaaa!
Last week it began. It always starts with a round of jobs posted for those who already have (or are in a seniority level where they can apply for) continuing positions in this district. Many of these jobs have certain people in mind, and are posted in such a way that very few people (other than the anticipated prospect) would have the qualifications to take on the role. Examples are similar to this: "Secondary School looking for a qualified individual who can teach the following: senior English, Social Studies, Dance and Psychology". Or... "Senior Math teacher needed who can also teach Physical Education and Foods". Some are simply retirements and people leaving the district, but even those often have a certain someone special in mind.
Realistically, most people aren't qualified in all these random areas and the people that may be qualified are likely not interested in teaching such a smorgasboard of classes. However, the one person who the administrators have in mind IS looking for exactly this job, particularly since it's unlikely that all the necessary qualifications may not be needed when the teaching schedule gets finalized over the summer or early in the fall. Playing politics, people... that's what it is.
The problem with such a system is two-fold: A) You have to be willing to play into the system by doing a bit of sucking up and self-selling... and, B) you must rank high enough on the ladder to actually have the possibility of playing such games. I, my friends, have no such luck. I'm at the bottom of the pole. So, until the leftovers are offered to the non-humans (A.K.A. those without any seniority status), I will be waiting in painful agony for news about work. Likely, it'll be June 23rd before I hear anything solid. Until then, it's all just rumours and hopeful expectations.
On a brighter note (read two ways!), I'm running in a 10-Miler race down in the southern Okanagan on Sunday! It should be lots of fun and good opportunity to see how I do when I'm pushing myself a little bit. I haven't been doing any real road-running as of late, so this'll be a bit of a challenge. Still, there should be a handful of the runners from the running clinic participating, and it's a small crowd that participates. K won't be tagging along because she's abandoning me tomorrow to head down to sunny California with her mom for a family wedding. She's gone until Sunday afternoon, so I'll be zipping down to the Skaha region, running my race, and zipping back before she flies in (as long as I don't die on the course!). While she's gone, I'm going to be a busy boy... volleyball, running, a potluck, a birthday party... oh, and I guess a bit of teaching too... so much to do in so little time!
Hopefully I can actually get some sleep tonight so I'm not a total wreck for the rest of the week. As we all know, though, hope is a feathered thing my friends, so I guess we'll just have to see how it all comes out in the wash.
T
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