As I was driving my commute today, I (mentally) composed this letter:
Dear Real World,
Remember how I don't like highway driving? Well, thanks a lot for the 40 minute commute. Remember how Stephen's car is tiny and I have a storage closet full of teaching materials to get up to the school? Thanks for that too. Also, I have a couple more complaints... 1. Teachers don't get paid enough for literally starting off with nothing (to be continued...) 2. Medical school is too much work. 3. Insurance (of all kinds) is a confusing, complicated pain in the you-know-what. 4. Life is tiring. 5. Why isn't caffeine free? Better yet, why can't I get a caffeine drip installed? 6. Why aren't there enough jobs out there for all my lovely, talented friends?
That's all for now.
Sincerely, Laura
This week has been a complete blur. I basically feel like I know nothing about my job despite our New Hire Orientation on Wednesday. I did learn, however, that if I were to engage in any "lewd" behavior (What does "lewd" really mean anyway? Who uses that word?) or get arrested for any reason AND get fingerprinted, my school district would be notified within 24 hours. Also, if I were to become disabled, I would not lose my job unless I was absent over 180 days. Finally, "Benefits" are a nightmare and really should be called Take Money Out of My Paycheck But Don't Really Provide Much Service Unless There is a Verifiable Emergency and Even Then Don't Count On It. Despite these jewels of knowledge, I ended up with exponentially more questions at the end of the Orientation than the beginning such as... Why is pregnancy lumped as part of disability leave? What exactly is the formal dress code, and why wasn't this a priority as I need to go Back-to-School shopping ASAP? How do I use gradebook, lesson planning online, email, Eduphoria (And while I'm at it, what is this?), Katynet, online training and a plethora of other technological thingys? Etc. etc. etc.
In other news, I visited my classroom. Here is the "Before video"
No, I will not need to purchase my own desks for the children, but I will need to buy basically everything else. Thankfully, I found an awesome teacher garage sale on Craigslist and found tons of goodies. It was a bit of an odd place, nice part of town, but it was at the girl's parents' house. After mere moments of observation, a couple of things became clear: 1. This girl is a hoarder. 2. This girl is a little nuts. 3. This girl's parents are making her get rid of her stuff slash get it out of their house. However, the mom kept insisting on how much I reminded her of said hoarder daughter, which was a bit frightening. Point of the story, I was able to get some great stuff for super cheap.
Next, I found out today that due to the budget, I don't actually get to have my class (students) until the second week of school. Apparently, I was supposed to know this since the job description originally said "Floater." Basically, they are overfilling their 6 other first grade classes until Sept. 1st, at which point some of them will be redistributed into my classroom. Very, very strange. Thankfully, I still get paid normally and contracted at the beginning of the school year like normal teachers, which seems to negate the budget helping... I don't get it. Needless to say, I am a little bummed. It will be sad not having my kiddos the first week and literally "floating" from class to class. Also, it will make logistics somewhat complicated because I won't get to officially meet my students and their parents on Meet the Teacher Night. I do, however, have my own classroom to start setting up, as evidenced by the video above. Are ya'll starting to get why I don't feel totally "in the loop" yet? Honestly, I really can't complain. So what if I have to wait a week to get my class and deal with the complications early on? After a couple weeks, it won't even be remembered. I am just thankful I have this job and have such amazing co-workers on my 1st grade team.
Now that I've rambled on and on and on and on about my Real World experiences, I will share some of Stephen's. Last week was med school orientation, which consisted of team-building games, lots of boring lectures, sexual harassment seminar, ID badges, shots (just to make sure he is extra immune to all the diseases floating around the hospital.), and even a night at a local bar which may or may not have been sponsored by a certain educational institution. This week, he hit the books, so to speak, or should I say the cadavers. But really, on Tuesday, he and his group of 4 other fellow medical students received their very own, specially assigned cadaver. Should I go into more detail? Probably not, but I'm going to. Skip down to the next paragraph if you wish... now. So, they are assigned a cadaver, one... body..... to work "with?" the rest of the year. Basically, he memorized all the parts of the shoulder and back (bones, ligaments, muscles, nerves... waiting for Stephen to correct me.... arteries and veins too.) followed by an *ahem* dissection of the back and shoulder in Gross Anatomy Lab the next day. At first I thought this was called "gross" as a more direct description, but apparently it means something more sciencey. Stephen is currently refusing to tell me what it really means, so I'll leave you with the suspense and curiosity.
As a loving, doting wife, these sort of graphic stories (well, more graphic than my description) have become part of my daily routine that I
have to endure lovingly listen to without cringing. I mean let's be honest, I have to look away during the Grey's Anatomy surgeries, and I am told those look "very fake." (Actually, in case you are wondering, they do use some real animal parts in those medical shows to make look more realistic.) Stephen also likes to share these things with me in a sort of lesson format, you know, questioning me about my prior knowledge and letting me "discover" my own learning. Okay, I'm a teacher, so I notice these things... but I digress. Moments ago, for instance, he wheels over to me in his rolly chair, and asks, "So. Here's something for you that you will actually think is interesting. What do you call it when, say, you wash your face and scrub off the dead skin?" Of course, I immediately respond, "Exfoliation?" Stephen says, "Exactly! Actually, the correct term is Desquamation.
Exfoliation actually means peeling off the entire epidermis, all of the layers of your skin, revealing what's underneath.
Desquamation is the sloughing off of the dead skin. So, when you say 'exfoliation' it's like saying you're literally peeling all of your skin off of your body." EW. Now, everyday (sometimes twice a day), when I use my St. Ive's Apricot Scrub to "exfoliate," I will be grossed out. Now you will too. You're welcome.
Well, this post was all over the place. Hope you enjoyed a window into our day to day grind.
