The Second Choice - A Book & Dating Club

Literally the last thing in the world that I have wanted to do lately is go on dates. However, The Second Choice Book Club is actually a book and dating club, so I felt like I had to; otherwise, I would have nothing to contribute.

Be that as it may, I am still cantankerous af and not in a positive head-space for dating; this is evidenced in the kind of messages I have been sending, when forced to send any at all.

Unsuspecting Victim: Hi! This app says we are perfect for each other.

Me: I don't know about that; you're not the type I usually go for.

Unsuspecting Victim: How's that?

Me: IDK. In my experience, the guys with washboard abs and lots of beautiful women in their pictures are usually self-involved.

Unsuspecting Victim: How presumptuous! Those are my friends! And my abs!

Me: You're absolutely right. I just have zero f***s left to give at this point. Too many bad dating stories to waste my time or anyone else's. Damn, I'm jaded.

Unsuspecting Victim: Men have it hard too, you know. 

Me: IF I HEAR THAT ONE MORE TIME. 

Unsuspecting Victim: Let's make a deal. We meet for a drink. Whoever's terrible online dating story is worst buys the first round.

Me: You have no idea what you're in for. 

FALSE.

It turns out that I had no idea what I was in for. 

This guy -- Isaac-from-Croatia -- proceeded to tell me about a perfectly average date where they chatted about normal banalities over drinks, ending with the woman inviting him to the party she was on her way to.

It was a certain kind of party.

I had a horrified laugh, as I was supposed to, and prepared to concede that he had won the worst first date bet.

But then he just kept going. He proceeded to describe what he saw, heard, and did at this party. He acted disgusted by the experience, but every time I said, "Why didn't you just leave?" he ignored me. It was as if I weren't even there; there wasn't a break in his story, like I hadn't uttered a word.

When I realized this was a well-rehearsed performance event for him and that he was not planning to deviate from his script merely because of questions from me, I quit talking.

And yet, his story continued. I eventually became so uncomfortable that I stopped looking at Isaac-from-Croatia altogether. I stared out at the lake at first, and then eventually down at my lap. All traces of humor had vanished for me, and that seemed wholly immaterial to him. He was determined to describe the entire experience.

I don't know what he expected me to do or say when he finally stopped talking. But what came out was the following:

"Yeah, so my dad's a conservative Christian pastor, and I spent 13 years growing up in religious schools. Nice ta' meet ya."

"That was a very hilarious story I just told you," Isaac-from-Croatia informed me.

"Was it?"

Then we sat there awkwardly. It was my turn to tell a bad date story, but somehow the humor had gone out of it for me. Fortunately for Isaac, there was a striking blond woman sitting next to us who had been flirting with him pretty brazenly, so I think he ended up okay in the end.

In any case, let this be a lesson that when you put negativity out into the universe, it will come back to bite you in the ass. Or, it will at least try to.

Tapas - Self-discipline

                                        TAPAS

                                                         The Heat

The third niyama of yogic philosophy is tapas, or self-discipline. I don't think it really means self-discipline as we know it. It means something more like friction, aggravation, unease, and the heat of discomfort. It is what we feel when Life rubs up against us in ways that are unwanted. The concept asks us, "Can I persist through the pain of this terrible thing that is happening?"

Or perhaps more accurately, it is the practice of preparing for those times.

Of all the yamas and niyamas in yoga's ethical code, tapas is probably the one that I intuitively understand best. It is also the one I like least. They say that the pose you like the least is the one you need the most (Dolphin - barf). It is the one that creates the most friction and chafing in your mind and will and discomfort in your body and breath. Your very desire to avoid this pose is the reason you should do it: it is necessary and important work to willingly do hard things so that when Life forces you to do hard things un-willingly, you are ready.

I do not like hard things at all. I will never be a person who runs a marathon, or climbs Mount Everest, or competes in a Tough Mudder. These all sound like truly terrible experiences to me. Not only do you have to go through the pain of actually doing them, you also have to go through all the pain of practicing doing them in the weeks and months leading up to the event. This sounds like a terrible idea.

But that's what tapas is.

Maybe if I had been training for marathons all this time, the pain of securing and then losing a job recently would have felt more bearable. Maybe I would have felt better able to cope. I don't know. 

In the book The Yamas & Niyamas: Exploring Yoga's Ethical Practice, Deborah Adele references the story of Jacob wrestling with God at Peniel. Actually, the text (Genesis 32:22-) says Jacob wrestled with "a man" -- it was Jacob himself who inferred from the circumstances that it was God who wrestled him.

In any case, the wrestling happened. Jacob encountered this other-worldly being whom he wrestled with all night long. As day began to break, the being crippled Jacob, but Jacob still held on. He wouldn't let go until this entity gave him a blessing.

Adele asks us, "Can we hold on to what has us in its grip, gripping it back, and not letting go until we are somehow blessed by it? Can we grow our ability to stay in the fire and let ourselves be burned until we are blessed by the very thing that is causing us pain...?"

Another translation of tapas is catharsis and the author goes on to write, "Catharsis does not leave us untouched or unscarred. We will be bearers of the wound as well as the blessing."

In other words, tapas is the catalyst igniting pain that will ultimately transform us.

I have been wrestling for a long, dark night. It is inconceivable to me that I am returning to the same teaching assignment again next year, with as hard as I've wrestled to get to a different one. I cannot imagine any scenario in which it is cathartic for me to remain where I am, even if there is "just one more student who needs you!"

However, this is where I am. There is a quote attributed to both Buddhist tradition and also, oddly, to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: "When it rains, I let it rain." And so here I sit, existing, persisting, wrestling in the tapas of this stalled place, acknowledging the rain.

Santosha - Contentment

 

We are officially more than halfway through yoga teacher training (YTT). In case you cannot tell, it takes me longer than everyone else to adequately process all the teachings. Ergo, after everyone else writes a 5-minute reflection, I sit in my backyard or classroom and pound out blog posts for 90 minutes.

This past week, we explored the niyama of santosha, or contentment. I have been struggling with contentment.

I recently finished reading Sapiens, which was phenomenal. Harari takes us all the way from the Cognitive Revolution — when homo sapiens developed myths, legends, and ideas that they collectively agreed to live by — through the Agricultural Revolution, and up through the Scientific Revolution  Not many books genuinely combine physics, chemistry, biology, anthropology, sociology, history, and psychology. 

One part I particularly liked was the explanation of biochemistry and happiness in chapter 19. Here’s an excerpt:

“On a scale from one to ten, some people are born with a cheerful biochemical system that allows their mood to swing between levels six and ten, stabilising with time at eight. Such a person is quite happy even if she lives in an alienating big city, loses all her money in a stock-exchange crash and is diagnosed with diabetes. 

Other people are cursed with a gloomy biochemistry that swings between three and seven and stabilises at five. Such an unhappy person remains depressed even if she enjoys the support of a tight-knit community, wins millions in the lottery and is as healthy as an Olympic athlete. 

Indeed, even if our gloomy friend wins $50,000,000 in the morning, discovers the cure for both AIDS and cancer by noon, makes peace between Israelis and Palestinians that afternoon, and then in the evening reunites with her long-lost child who disappeared years ago - she would still be incapable of experiencing anything beyond level seven happiness. 

Her brain is simply not built for exhilaration, come what may.”

That may seem crazy depressing and damning to some people, but I found it insanely comforting. I’ve always felt rather guilty for not being more “fun” and “cheerful” and “positive!!!!” The world (and certainly the dating world) demands energy, enthusiasm, and zest. But according to Harari, maybe I’m just not quite built that way.

So, knowing that I'm never going to be swinging from the rafters with joy, how do I practice santosha, particularly when my mind tells me I'll be really happy if I got a new teaching position?

Here is a timeline of events of my recent experiences:

11.19.21 Receive a recruitment video from a former principal for her current district, PSD. They have 3 high school English openings. 

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

3.08.22  Fail to receive an appointment for any of the HS English openings, despite knowing 2 administrators. 

Devastated.

3.29.22. Reach out to the person who recruited me and ask if the middle schools in PSD are done hiring. She says no, she must have missed my applications and she and her boss will immediately look for them.

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

4.01.22. Find out from the Assistant Superintendent of HR that I did not pass the basic screening test to teach middle school in PSD, only high school. Even though there was an administrator that asked to interview me for 6 open positions, it was denied because I didn't pass the screening test. 

Devastated.

4.02.22 Make it to the final round for 8th grade English in KSD, highly reputable district without a scripted curriculum. 

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

4.04.22 Have to teach a live lesson to real students, as well as to teachers and administrators pretending to be students. Almost throw up. Students choose the other teacher to be their new teacher. 

SERIOUSLY?

4.22.22 Interview at a high school in my current district. New principal about my age. Single woman I've always jived with. The interview goes GREAT, and she ends it by saying, "Awesome. I will definitely be in touch!!!" 90% certain I will be getting a job offer.

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

5.2.22  Zoom interview that lasts 27 minutes with a high school in PKW. Sense a total lack of interest.

Devastated.

5.3.22 Make it to the final round of 8th grade English/Social Studies at the other middle school in the highly reputable KSD. Feel really good about it. Still middle school, but it's 8th grade so I'm not going any younger and it's more money.

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

5.5.22 Notified that KSD decided on the other candidate because it was going to end up being a straight Social Studies position. If only I were certified in SS. Oh wait. I am. They just didn't pick me.

5.5.22  A few hours later, receive an automated email informing me that I was also passed over for the high school position I was 90% sure I'd gotten, with the new younger principal. This is the 9th high school position I've been rejected from in my own district.

Devastated.

5.10.22  Invited to participate in interviews with WGSD. Would literally be a $20,000 raise.

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

5.11.22  Receive job offer from PKW. Finally, finally, finally get to teach high school English! They want me to teach Advanced English II! 

YAAAAAAAAYYYY!!

5.12.22 Take whole day off to wait by the phone for the contract to come through from PKW Human Resources. Do tons of homework so I know what to expect and how to counter. Instead, receive an email from the principal who offered me the position. Internal personnel shifts mean that the offer has to be rescinded. 

Completely. Devastated.

5.13.22  WGSD reaches out to me for 3rd and final interview: invitation to create lesson and teach it to their students live, while being observed. The position is for 7th grade.

I turned it down. 

Devastated.

I know it was a $20K raise. I just couldn't.  And maybe you'll think this was self-sabotage at its finest, so I'm going to write my reasoning down here, for when I forget:

* 7th grade is the worst of all the grades to teach. According to 2 principals I interviewed in the past week, they have none of the sweetness of 6th graders and none of the glimmerings of maturity of 8th graders. Unless you just really love teaching middle school, 7th grade is not a good year to teach.

* I am not cut out for teaching young kids. This should be obvious from the fact that while I got a perfect score on the high school English teaching exam, I missed 47 points on the middle school English teaching exam. It should also be obvious from the fact that I was approved for PSD interviews at the high school level but failed the screening exam for middle school interviews, despite having taught middle school for the past 15 years.

* I do not want to go from one scripted curriculum to another one. What I want is autonomy. WGSD uses the Reader-Writer Workshop Model, which is a vast system of books telling you how to teach writing. Part of my interview included affirming that I was willing to teach this style and to collaborate closely with the other 7th grade English teachers so that we are all teaching the same thing. I'm so tired of being told how and what to teach! And this would be mandated teaching, but in a lower grade! That leads us to...

* I would be moving in the opposite direction of what I want. Losing the offer in PKW showed me how much I want high school. When I set out to become a teacher, it was with the intention to teach older kids. At least when I'm teaching 8th grade, I can make a case for knowing what students should be coming into high school with, as well as where their specific learning gaps are. I can also say differentiating includes knowing the HS learning standards so that I can challenge my gifted and advanced students with the HS requirements. If I can't convince a HS principal to take a chance on me now, how on earth would I convince him or her if I were teaching insane 12-year-olds!?

* 25% of the teachers in that WGSD middle school are 1st and 2nd-year teachers. That kind of turnover is extraordinarily high. The former principal blamed it on traditionalists retiring and teachers leaving education altogether, but those things should hold true in other districts, too. At my school, the number is 7% and at KSD middle, that number is 9% A district that pays as much as WGSD should not have a hard time securing or keeping seasoned teachers. Something's not right.

* The distance was twice what I'm driving now. Sure, it was only an additional $600 a year for gas as a tradeoff for a huge raise. But the commute across 3 highways without any accidents, snow, ice, sleet, or rain was annoying. I get really mad when stuck in the car, and on those highways, I would have been stuck in the car a lot because drivers in this city are nuts. Given that I would be driving all that distance to teach a grade level I didn't even want felt futile.

* I could still get a HS job if I held off on signing a contract. The major hiring for most districts takes place in March and April. However, since so many teachers are jumping ship right now, there's a solid chance that more will decide they can't hack another year right at the eleventh hour. If that happens and I haven't signed a middle school contract elsewhere, I could still apply.

* I lacked the mental and emotional reserves to apply at that time. This spring has been fkking brutal. Lemon's dad was arrested and sent to prison; then he made bail and was released. That roller coaster on top of all the highs and lows from these interviews -- and believe me, I didn't even post them all -- has ravaged me. I did not have the emotional reserves to create a lesson and put on another dog-and-pony show for someone else's students when they weren't even close to the age group I wanted to teach. 

* There are some things more important than money. PKW rescinded their job offer, and I was more devastated than I have been in a very long time. I assumed I had done something egregious or that someone had blackballed me because I pissed them off once, or... I don't even know what. When this happened, I felt like I could not breathe: this thing I'd been trying for for years had just slipped out of my fingers.

That was when my principal dropped everything and raced to my house with a bottle of wine. She sat there forever and let me cry. And then the next night when I was too upset to pull myself through yoga training, she told me to come over to her house for dinner. And then Monday, she showed up at school with a brand new weed wacker that her husband had bought, put together, and charged for me.

I don't know why all this has happened. It feels enormously unfair. 

I'm disappointed in myself for turning down a high-paying job. 

I'm proud of myself for turning down something I knew in my heart I wasn't cut out for. 

I'm frustrated with myself for assuming I did something to bring all this on myself.

But in the midst of so much sadness, there are moments of grace, and sometimes they look like a glass of wine and a weed wacker. 

It's extremely hard, when I've worked for so long to pull myself up by the bootstraps, to acknowledge that I may never get what I want. This entire year I've been rewriting resumes, researching salary schedules, answering essay questions, taking Teacher Insight Surveys, prepping for interviews, planning mini-lessons, assembling portfolios, practicing interview skills, meeting with job coaches, and putting myself out there. And it might just not be enough. 

One of my goals in yoga is to learn more balance; yet the wild swings between elation and devastation I've experienced this spring make me feel anything but. So as regards santosha, what I wrestle with is the tension between living in contentment and striving relentlessly toward what I want. Especially when I know I may not ever achieve it.

Reflection at the End of the 15th Year

 We bring you this brief break from yoga to interject the annual teaching reflection.

Reflection at the End of the 15th Year

What a year.

I know that this is in the news literally every year, but this year, teachers really are leaving the profession in droves.

Seriously. I talked to teachers in 2 different districts who told me, "There are 7 teachers in my building who have quit so far this year. Like, just walked out on the profession."

That's not normal, blog world.

Suffice to say, there's a teacher shortage. I think it's everywhere, but Missouri's last-place ranking for starting teacher salary ($25,000) does not help.

And yet, this spring, I applied for 20 positions, executed 11 interviews, and ultimately secured 0 jobs.

But instead of dwelling on that for this reflection, I would rather just mention the most salient parts of the academic year. Here are some of the things that happened:

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Something I'm proud of:

5th Hour Girls: You hung out with a former student all weekend? Like doing what, drinking?

Salty, Seasoned Teacher: How inappropriate. Of course not. We were finishing some of the work for her last college classes.

5th Hour Girls: Oh. So, what do we have to do to have that kinda' relationship with you?

SST: Stay in touch. 

5th Hour Girls: That's easy, we can do that. Bet. We'll be best friends.

Ok, yes, we're at a bar. But I taught her a decade ago.

**************************************************

Something I'm sad about:

Spending two entire months painstakingly walking students through the atrocities of the Holocaust, guiding their research projects, answering their questions, teaching them about dehumanization and Martin Buber's "I/Thou” to a far, far greater extent than any other teachers in the district.

At the end of that time, the war in Ukraine broke out, and students started spontaneously discussing American isolationist policies. One student brought up the horrific loss of life.

Other Student: Well, yeah, but our lives are a lot more valuable than theirs. Obviously.

And that was maybe my saddest and most defeated moment as a teacher.

*************************************************

Something I have so many feelings about:

We attend 3 days of professional development per year. We get to pick from a huge list of options. I do not mind it; I love learning things!

The man who heads up my district's Diversity & Inclusion division presents the same damn thing every time but gives keeps giving it different titles. Every freaking year, I fall for this and sign up for it again.

This year, in the middle of his presentation, one teacher was like, "I just don't understand why I have to give special allowances to some students. I think they're playing the system. I mean, my family is initially from Italy and they really struggled. I have not had an easy life. I don't think my students' lives are any harder than mine, okay? They are not slaves. Just because their great-grandparents may have been slaves doesn't mean that they deserve special privileges from me."

Honestly, I'm about done with our D&I trainer so I answered her myself. At the end of my explanation, everyone was staring at me and the lady was like, "Why doesn't anyone give us any professional development like that? I want some data like that, so I can understand it better!"

I emailed the D&I Director and FOR THE SECOND TIME offered to present during professional development days. He responded enthusiastically to the email that my principal was copied on. But after I put together a huge list of resources and emailed it to him for approval and feedback, FOR THE SECOND TIME he declined to respond at all.

I guess he would rather just keep modifying his current PowerPoint.

************************************************

Something I tried:

I asked my principal if he could buy us these yoga mats. I offered yoga after school for teachers (this was kind of a bust) and as a brain-break for students (this was a huge success). Going through yoga teacher training (YTT) has been extremely difficult because cramming 200 hours of anything into 6 months is hard! But I am glad I have something to offer the kids.

*****************************************************

Something I'm thankful for:

I teach in a place that lacks a strong building culture. Coming from my previous district, I was expecting my co-workers to be my new best friends. Instead, I've been here 6 years and I still have no idea who some people are.

I knew there was this big group of teachers who always ate lunch in one of the 8th-grade rooms, and I thought maybe I could get to know people by eating lunch with them. I walked in once, and they all just stopped eating and stared at me. It was so awkward that I made up a question to ask and then left.

Talking to the new Social Studies teacher, the Art teacher (part of the "in" crowd at school, and the SS teacher's neighbor in real life) said the following: "I mean if it were up to me, of course I would invite you to eat lunch with us. But you have to be specifically invited by [Popular Teacher who controls lunch guest list]."

Middle School, anyone?!

Anyway, it has been kind of lonely here. But since I became the Staff Wellness Chairperson, my committee has been really supportive and encouraging. We went out for margaritas on Cinco de Mayo, to drown my sorrows about being turned down for my 20th job. It was really nice.

***************************************************

Something I'm about fed up with:

The Superintendent, whom I'll be referring to as Gerald McAssHat from now on, has been in charge of this district for FORTY YEARS. 

He literally rules it like it's his fiefdom. There is a middle school named after him, despite the fact that he is a sitting superintendent. He's the type of person who refuses to wear a mask in the middle of a pandemic, literally while telling teachers about the importance of setting a good example for students by wearing our masks correctly.

He clearly does not understand irony, one of his many failings.

His other failings include hiring his daughter with a 6-figure salary and being patently misogynistic and patriarchal.

The second Friday in April is recognized as "Day of Silence" across the nation, and its purpose from inception nearly 25 years ago has been to raise awareness of the bullying that happens toward LGBT+ youth. (Seriously, check the statistics, their suicide rate is astronomically higher than the norm).

A teacher I adore, one who would give you the shirt off her own back, is in charge of the Rainbow Club at our school (she sponsors this club for free, of course, as the district is too conservative to pay her). 

She relayed the following story to me last week: Superintendent McAssHat told the sponsor of one of the other Rainbow Clubs, "I pay you to teach, not to be silent. You want to be silent? Do it on your own time. You can be silent before school, after school, or during lunch. While you work for me, you teach."

Um, sir. Pardon me if I'm wrong, but teaching teenagers to refrain from hate crimes and hate speech is still teaching, you tumbling, tumbling dickweed.

(Never mind the fact that this is a well-established event that extends far beyond our district or state. And never mind the fact that he has no problem with silence to commemorate events he finds meaningful [read: patriotic, Christian events].)

***************************************************

Something I stood up for:

When I started at the district 6 years ago, I had basically one mission: 1) Force a reckoning in the English department, which was as then teaching white-washed alternative history from Eurocentric texts and "student choice" novels.

Oh.

2) And don't get fired. 

I acknowledged the fact that both these goals might not be simultaneously possible. But now I'm six years in. I've weathered one fiery explosion in the middle of professional development, a few very carefully chosen "I obeyed the letter of the law, sirs" and some hard advocating. Importantly, I'm not claiming this is all down to me. But neither did I have no role.

At the end of the 2022 academic year, the district has many, MANY more books feating BIPOC, neurodiverse, and queer characters. Not just on my shelves either. In the actual library. No one's forcing any of the students to read these books, but I believe it is important for students who are marginalized and struggling to see themselves in the pages of books. When you are autistic, it matters that there are good novels written by autistic authors, like "A Kind of Spark". When you are one of a few Latinx kids in a mostly-white school, it matters that you can find a book like "Mexican Whiteboy."

Representation matters. On the Lit Circles committee, I'm still advocating for books featuring diverse characters. 

*************************************************

Something I found mind-boggling:

One of the assistant principals in my building knows that Life and COVID dried up all my side hustles, so she suggested I clean our building after hours as a janitor.

At first I was livid.

But then I found out the IT guy in my building is making nearly $50 an hour doing this after the school day ends! He puts it all straight toward his daughter's college tuition.

He's like, "I don't know what you'd make. I'm 4 years from retirement, and maybe it's based on years of service? But my buddy's a bus driver here and he's been doing it after the school day to make ends meet, too. He's getting $22 an hour."

I figured I would make somewhere between $22 and $50 an hour. A reasonable assumption.

I was still mad as hell at having to teach the disrespectful Youths all day and then clean up their piss off the toilet seats at night, but I figured if the bus driver and the tech guy could swing it, so could I.

They asked me what size T-shirt I needed. They signed me up for training. And then they informed me they would be paying me $12.50 per hour.

Hold up, what?

"Yeah, that's all teachers get. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

Are you fkkking kidding me!?!?! So not only are you gonna pay me shit to do my actual job, you're going to also pay me shit to do the same damn job as these other guys!?!?!?

I quit!!

Just kidding, I can't quit coz I need health insurance, but I quit janitoring.

*************************************************

Something I learned:

Lawnmowers can do three things: cut grass; bag grass; and mulch grass. I still don't entirely understand how all those things are different, but I know that when you buy a lawnmower, it has these capabilities.

My 6th-hour boys helped me pick out a lawnmower, and I ordered it online.

The first one they sent me arrived in half a box. It was the right brand but the wrong mower.

The second one they sent me arrived in a whole box, and it was the right brand and right mower. However, the handle was missing, rendering it useless.

The third one they sent me arrived in a box that looked like it had legit been put through a garbage compactor. It was held together by packing tape and prayer. It had clearly been used and then returned; however, it was the right brand, the right mower, and had all the parts, so I kept it.

The boys are 98% sure I mowed the lawn incorrectly because there was all kinds of grass all up inside the mower after I was finished. I explained to them that I'd found the lawnmower guide incomprehensible because it was all in pictures with no words. They were unmoved by this and thought even an idiot could figure out how to use a lawnmower.

Nonetheless, I mowed my weeds with the lawnmower the kids selected, and so I felt pretty pleased.

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Something I'm genuinely wondering: 

I genuinely wonder at the end of this year if kids were a lot more disrespectful and mean? At first I just thought maybe I'm getting old and crotchety. Then I thought, maybe I'm just so stressed out that I have a shorter fuse, so it seems like they're out-of-control but really they're not.

For the first half of the year, I just figured they were lacking in maturity and once second semester rolled around, they'd suddenly grow by leaps and bounds.

That has not proven to be the case though. I am really shocked by the lack of empathy, lack of respect, lack of basic caring for other human beings I've seen in the students this year.

I'm wondering: have any other teachers seen that? Is that because of the pandemic? Did I just get an unruly group this year? Or am I losing my spunk?

It's very troubling.

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Something I did not expect but could not have done without:

Comfort and care from the 8th-grade principal, after all my job application rejections. Can't put a price on some things.

The End.