Say Hello, Dorothy
Ive spent this week alternating between crippling depression over my job and how the entire profession of teaching hates me in very not subtle ways, and extreme irritation while i say things like, “IF YOU THROW YOURSELF ON THE FLOOR ONE MORE TIME, I AM CALLING THE WHINE WAGON TO COME AND GET YOU,” and “FOR THE LOVE OF TOAST, STOP LICKING THE TABLE.”
Preschoolers are weird.
Of course, I may only get this year to say that, because the licensure department – you know, the people who didn’t issue my license until MARCH when I applied in DECEMBER – says that I have to complete the 6 hours I need to clear my provisional PreK license by June.
Ok, no problem!
Except that it is, because only one of the classes I need is offered this summer. Can they extend the time frame, seeing as I didnt know what classes I needed until AFTER the deadline for spring registration?
WHY NO, NO THEY CANNOT. PS. IF I DONT TAKE THESE TWO CLASSES, THEY WON’T LET ME TEACH.
I call HR. they make thoughtful noises, and recommend i check with different colleges and universities to see if any offer the class I need.
I say…no, i really wasnt KIDDING when I told you this class was not being offered ANYWHERE IN NC. TRUST ME, I ALREADY LOOKED.
*facepalm* i think ive got it worked out, after talking to the Guy in Charge of something, who has agreed to let me take a different class and pretend it counts towards my license.
It’s possible that somewhere along the way in talking to HR and Guy in Charge and The Evil State that my head popped right off of my neck and rolled around on the floor. Because ever since, I’ve had a very difficult time making sentences that make sense. Or stringing words together in any order. Or not calling kids the wrong name.
Join me tomorrow, when I spam you with pictures of the TWO YEAR OLD VOLDEMORT. AHHHHHHH!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!