Once upon a time, when I was much younger, naive, and frankly…dumb, I got involved in an event in high school that resulted in a threat of suspension. Another student had posted on their locker (this is circa 2004) a lengthy explanation of why they did not agree with our government being involved in Iraq. Continue reading
I still remember the time like it was a ‘flashbulb memory’…
Alone, around 3:30 AM, I sat in the office inside the underground apartment that I had called home for nearly six months. I didn’t have a job, and throughout the night to combat the lacking of sleepiness (because I was doing nothing with my life), I would fill out teaching applications.
- Log on to the site that had all school teaching positions open
- Locate schools that were looking for social studies teachers
- Access their website
- Print off their application
- Start typing
I lost count at 92 applications. My wife had already given up on me teaching, I had started to work at Subway, and every-so-often I would go and substitute teach at a local school. I’d hear teachers comment on openings, wondering if I was applying, and it was the same dog-and-pony trick every week.
It wears on an individual to want to teach, but to never be qualified for a school. By qualified I mean that I didn’t know the right people. I’d given up on coaching, my own room, stability, all of it…and that was before the divorce.
I only paint this rather strange picture, because five years later in my living room I clicked “submit” all over again. Now, Facebook is an IPO, Twitter exists, and my phone can easily replace a desktop computer. Even stranger, I didn’t just send in an application off a whim, I was ‘encouraged’ by individuals at school today to follow the protocol and submit an application.
Yes, you read that correctly, after two and a half years I just submitted an official application to teach in the school I’ve been in and out of for the past several semesters.
I’m nervous. I’m anxious. I’m so excited.
Praying that this one will be right…
That much closer.
I’ve taken the college course.
I’ve submitted my transcripts.
I’ve requested a review for new certification based off education.
I’ve “unofficially” passed the professional knowledge test set by the state for middle school.
I’m so ready for a contract.
He keeps me patient and hungry.
A phrase I’ve heard more than once inside the school over the past several weeks, directed at students…
Being an adult isn’t always that fun. Right now, it stinks.
This usually coincided with sick days, retirement issues, and taxes. Continue reading
Perhaps it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself. Time and time again I hear a preacher say, usually with passion and fire, “God uses and used average, everyday people!”
I’m closing in on 30 years of life and I’m slowly starting to accept my fear.
I’m not an Olympian, professional athlete, world renowned business owner, or genius.
I’m a married man with a steady income. I’m going to wind up with 2.3 kids, a white picket fence, and a mortgage.
I suppose the earlier I begin to accept these realities the sooner life will level out.
God uses average people…
I can only hope…
Why is it that sunshine, warm temperatures, and the open air stirs the wanderlust within me?
Truly it’s one of the most appealing “side benefits” to education, exploring.
The mass amount of time off (Christmas Break, Spring Break, Summer Break, etc…) gives way to rapid releases of creativity. It’s hard not to be consumed too early. I’d rather live in a lower style residence and be able to travel versus the opposite. The summer alone is pointing towards Arizona and Pennsylvania to name a few. Prayers for El Salvador perhaps, and other adventures along the way. The reality is I’m designed no different than an albatross; I forcibly must be able to stretch my wings.
It’s not just the sunlight, it’s the hours that pass each day wondering when I’ll soar again. I’m so blessed to allow my energy and creativity to flow throughout the school day; I love giving back what I’ve learned.
It’s only that from time to time the innate stirring of the soul-filled waters that cause my heart to reach for lands unknown.
For several reasons I have a “no touch” policy, not just at school, but in life as a whole. Darco is the only one that I’m alright (obviously!) with the exception.
As a male teacher it was something that was beat into my skull as a student in my undergrad.
Don’t make physical contact with any student…ever.
This morning, one of my students (I confess, I have favorites) came downstairs and told me they were moving…today. It’s sad when the fun ones leave, and this was no exception. They hung out with me for twenty minutes prior to school starting, and asked me where I’d be around 9:40 AM (when they were leaving). I told them where to find me.
9:30 AM came by while I was walking down the hall and I saw them walking towards me.
Mr. D, my grandma is here to pick me up. I’m leaving. Could I have a hug?
Today, I went back on my commitment, I ignored my professors of the past, and I hugged a sobbing student.