Kinder Kinders

Spent the day with two half day kinder classes today. The morning went really well. The class was wonderful. Kids were ready to follow directions and listen. Yes, they behaved like kids that young are expected to. But they also followed directions. They didn't run in the hallways. They were quiet when asked to be quiet. They raised their hands. They helped each other, said they were sorry when they needed to, and made my morning fly by.

And then the pm class arrived. Oddly the kid who was stuck to his mom's side when I came to the front of the school to pick them up turned out to be the best kid in the class. Followed directions, the whole bit. Think he must've been meant for the am class. The pm class could not all be quiet at the same time to save their lives. Thye were unable to follow directions - no doubt because they were talking - or to treat anyone with respect. I'm talking basic respect here, after all I know it's kindergardners. One kid had a comment about everything I said. 'yeah, yeah, yeah, we know.' And he ran in the halls, jumped onto and off of a chair, annoyed the kids around him in line, and stole a kid's paper and replaced it with his own that had been written on. Yeah, that's just one kid. And every time I spoke with him about his "choices" (that's what we call them, you know, choices. But that's another blog post.), he said he knew that he wouldn't treat his regular teacher like that. Thanks, kid.

What would have been nice is if the teacher had bothered to warn me that she had the devil incarnate in her afternoon classroom. But no, no such warnings were issued. It would have been nice if the kids knew how to treat "guest teachers" (another silly euphemism). It would have been nice if this kid's parents had bothered to parent him. Or if he'd stayed home from school today.

What a day. Glad to work, don't get me wrong. But it amazed me (really, it did) how two classes in the same day could behave SO differently. Yet another lesson learned as a substitute teacher. When I got home, I had an e-mail request to work for a 4/5 grade class. Yes, please.

Hope and Faith

After much soul searching, I decided to start applying to positions outside of this state. Oregon is not willing to support education in the way it needs be financially supported, so students and new teachers are getting shafted. It is dismal, and seems to get worse every year.

I recently applied to several positions in a small town in Wyoming. When you have submitted close to 200 applications, it is difficult to get excited about the positions anymore. But this one seemed different, and held a lot of potential. I sincerely wanted the job, and felt like I would be a great fit. I researched the area, examined the curriculum, checked into potential residences... I was full of hope, bursting with enthusiasm.

I touched base today with the secretary to see what the status was. They are hiring 9 people, and I wasn't even considered for an interview. Oh.

Hope can be so cruel.

It is so brutal to be refused again and again and again. Yet I am told by the professionals I work with not to lose hope, that I am a great teacher, to keep trying, that it's just the economy, that things will turn around. Not one of those phrases helps me pay bills or provides me with the same feeling I get when I am teaching. But they all give me hope, which is then dashed when I dare to entertain it.

I am not a particularly religious person. I figure it is a personal decision, and everyone finds the belief that fits them. For me, I believe that there is a plan for me, a path to follow, and that things happen for a reason. Maybe I didn't get the job in another state because there is one waiting me closer to home. Maybe I would have been miserable there. I won't know the "maybe" until the plan plays out. So I have to maintain a sense of faith.

The great thing about faith is, you can always say that things haven't played out. You can procrastinate the results. And in that way, you can maintain your faith in a way that hope cannot. Your hope gets squelched periodically, and just about that time, your faith in the future grows just a little bit more.

I don't know about my faith or hope in Oregon's future. But I suppose I have to maintain my own.