Parenting Without A License

Gimme More

Posted by Kimberly on December 10th, 2007 — Posted in The Ladies, Kipple, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat

Between a glitch in my daycare arrangements and the plague, today was my first day back in a classroom since my interview.  Even though it’s not at the school I interviewed at, it was harder than I thought it would be, sitting in the staffroom listening to the banter of colleagues and not being a part of that camaraderie.  Oh, they’re always nice enough, including the subs in their conversations, but we all know that we’re the outsiders here–not really one of the team.  It never used to bother me–after all, not being part of the team was one of the perks, not a drawback–but today I felt very much like the Little Match Girl, pressing my nose against the glass as I stare at all the delights denied to me.

I spent the day imagining that the classroom I’d been assigned was mine.  My posters on the wall, my students’ work displayed on the bulletin board, my photos and knick knacks arranged around the computer on the desk.

I wanted to be teaching these kids, not just providing crowd control.  But instead, I spent the day writing a blog entry about my desire to teach while they worked quietly at their desks and chatted amongst themselves.  It’s my job, and I’m obviously doing it well, but today it just didn’t feel like enough.

It’s never really been enough, if I’m honest.  Working in the elementary schools can often be an awful lot like teaching (and sometimes even is), but high school has always been like this–I’m more of a glorified hall monitor than a teacher here.  It was easier before, though, to look at the benefits of being paid fairly well for what is oftentimes very little actual work and convince myself that I didn’t want the hassle of that work anyway.  Part of that’s true–my job has worked very well with my family situation to provide us with the best of both worlds, and I’m certainly grateful for the flexibility it’s afforded me these past few years–but the truth is, I miss the rewards that go hand in hand with the hassles of a full time teaching contract.

I’m not talking about the money, or even the stability.  Those things would be nice, but really, they wouldn’t make much difference to our lives.  I’m talking about the relationships with the students.  The exhilaration of knowing that I’ve made a difference, touched a life, taught at least one person the proper use of the comma so that she can take that knowledge and spread it out into the world.  I want to connect with colleagues, challenge my professional learning, and grow  outside of this vacuum I’m stuck in right now.

Sitting in that classroom today only reinforced those feelings, making it harder than ever to focus on all the things I do have–a good paying job, a chance to catch up on my reading and blogging at work (the ultimate in multitasking), and flexibility for my family at a time when my kids are young and I need it–when all the things I don’t have but so desperately want –my own classroom, professional respect, intellectual stimulation–are so close, and yet still out of my reach.

Before that interview I had a Plan.  I would stay on the supply list until Regan was in school full time, then I would pursue a class of my own.  It was a good plan, based on solid thinking, past experience, and the particular needs of my family.  Subbing through kindergarten would leave me free to participate in Regan’s early school years, something that it is important to me not to miss–leaving Diva Girl at the door of her first classroom to head off to my first classroom is a piece of mommy guilt that is indelibly imprinted on my heart, and not an experience I want to repeat with her sister.  Daycare and transportation wouldn’t be issues with both of The Ladies at the same school fulltime.  And Sabrina would be 12, more than old enough to take on a bit of responsibility around the house.  All good, solid reasons why supplying for the next three years makes sense.

And none of which take into account the simple, selfish fact that I want more.