Making sense

Anne Lamott, on writing ...

"We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.”

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Now what do I do?

Four days ago I got an alert from that a fancy-schmancy private school in a beautiful part of Kansas City, Pembroke-Hill, would be hiring an English teacher for the 2012-2013 academic year. Right away, two thoughts surfaced: ohmigod I want that job; nuh-unh, teaching English means grading papers. A lot of papers. Thousands. And that's no hyperbole.
And then the Yes! You need to apply!! Don't delay!!! opinions came swirling back, all dressed up in exclamation points and urgency.
I need to figure out what to do.
In a sense, and in a very large and profound sense, I believe that I have been put on this earth to teach. Only I didn't really get to teach at Northgate. Oh, with my challenge class ~ the advanced learners (RE: motivated) ~ teaching went on there. And it was fun and good and inspiring. But 75 percent of the time, I taught kids who came to class without pencils and without a positive attitude.
Redirected constantly, disciplined incessantly: Get out your pencil, quit talking, quit touching him, do NOT even think about throwing that, that is NOT appropriate language for school, where's your pencil? you don't have your homework? sit up straight, quit talking, don't run in the hall, where's your folder? where's your spiral? where's your pencil? quit talking, quit talking! quit talking!!
Ad nauseum.
I should shadow a teacher at Pembroke before I even consider sending a resume. Presuming that prep school would even hire me ... .

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