flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

January 08, 2007

Seven Years of College, Down the Drain

I have one week left of relative freedom, before the education indoctrination re-commences. I’ve spent the last three weeks in a fiction haze, reading all the books that I had put aside for months.

And now, it’s back to psychology of the educator. Sheesh.

I’m not a saint; in fact, I’m a pretty big sinner. I’ve got gluttony, sloth, and envy down cold. I’ve not done much for my fellow man, either, except donate some money here and there. But, I’ve reached a crossroads in my life, career-wise. So, I’ve decided to go down a different path, for a while anyway.

I’m going back to get my certification to teach. When people ask why, I give all sorts of stupid reasons. My current job sucks (truth). I don’t really want to be in IT anymore (truth). I’ve always gotten a kick out of teaching basic science and math (truth). Oh, and the teachers’ three best reasons to like the job factor in, too (June, July, and August).

But the real reason? I think it’s time to give something back. I won’t be the best teacher in the world, that’s for certain. I won’t be Mr. Holland with an opus, or Antonio Banderas, reaching across the class divide with a tango. But maybe, just maybe, I can reach one kid somewhere, and help the flower of curiosity in his or her head to bloom, instead of being completely killed by inattention.

My husband thinks I’m nuts. But I want to teach in the city – just for a few years. I’m not vain enough to think I can make a difference. I’m not strong enough to tough out those kind of environments for the rest of my working years. But I feel like I have to TRY to give something back. I certainly hope I’ll be better than the teachers who don’t show up 30% of the time, or the teachers who do not have English or Spanish as a first language.

John is, of course, stymied by this. He is scared I’ll get shot or worse (not sure what worse is…) After living in the Temple area (or worse, which I did for several years), we’ve both become sheltered little suburbanites.

Hell, he was in the Peace Corps. I’d hope he could understand something of why I want to do this.

But I have exactly one year to convince him.




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