I was sitting a classroom doing one of my first teacher observations after becoming a principal. The teacher being observed was a solid special education teacher so this figured to be a pretty easy one. The teacher was working with a small pull out group of 5th graders when I entered and grabbed a seat in the back of the room.
Shortly after I sat down, I heard some sort of chaotic screaming coming from the boy's student washroom which was located across the hall from the classroom we were in. I was kind of hoping who ever was yelling would stop or that another teacher would address it. But the screaming continued.
I wasn't really sure what the protocol here was. Clearly, someone had to address the bathroom issue. I just wasn't sure I was allowed to leave. It was a formal evaluation scheduled at a time of the teacher's choosing. To walk out might nullify the evaluation which would in turn create a 'but I worked extra hard to prepare this lesson for you' situation. The screaming continued and I ultimately decided that I had to go address it. I figured if I was quick I would be okay since the teacher was going to get a nice evaluation anyway.
I darted into the bathroom. As I whipped around the wall, there stood one of our new 5th grade boys. He was splashing like an infant in the sink basin. He was soaking wet, foam soap was everywhere, and he was banging on the mirror with open palms as he screamed. It looked like something you'd see in a mental institute.
"Dude, what are you doing!?" The kid stopped and looked at me with a mixture of stun and embarrassment like I'd just walked on his taking dump. After a few seconds he raced out of the bathroom crying.
Normally I would have pursued the kid and got a custodian to clean up the mess, but I needed to get back into the evaluation. I decided to just let it go and hustled back to the classroom.
When I entered, there stood the very same kid I had just yelled at crying. The teacher was trying to calm the kid down. I hadn't even realized he was a special education student.
The boy eventually went under a table and refused to come out. The teacher spent the majority of the remaining time trying to coax him back to his seat (or least quiet his crying).
I figured this had to be a first in teacher observation scenarios. The observer leaves the room during an observation, then creates a situation for the teacher being observed has to deal with that pretty much wrecks his entire lesson!
Luckily, skilled special education teachers are pretty used to dealing with the unexpected. He handled the student well. The teacher and I shared a good laugh over the incident, and we got the palm prints cleaned off the mirror.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The Uninvited Guest
I've written in the past, and will probably write again in the future about a principal I served under- Marie. Marie would fight battles that I believe most administrators wouldn't bother with. She also wasn't interested in win-win outcomes. She was going to win all battles with administrators, teachers, parents, students, police, and anyone else who squared off with her (or else go down swinging). Her way is so uncommon it produced frequent awkward moments (most people avoid conflict), constant hilarity, and great stories. I have a great deal of admiration for her style, but little interest in adopting it. Below is another one of my favorites.
Marie usually put some sort of a behavior rider on the 8th grade trip. Students would be expected to meet some expectation of good behavior in order to attend. Frequently, parents of children who had lost the privilege would try to simply bring their children to wherever the other students were. Marie always got word of this little scheme and would have the police pull the parents car over and let them know that the principal wanted them to know if they continued to follow the bus to this field trip they wouldn't walk at graduation in a couple weeks.
One year the 8th grade class went to a water park for their trip. Marie got word that one of the students who had lost the privilege was planning on having his mother drive him to the park behind the school bus. Marie waited, and the kid was called in sick that day. She called up her deans who were attending the trip and asked them to call her if the boy showed up. Sure enough, he did.
Marie phoned the water park and demanded the manager be put on the phone. When the guy picked up, Marie went crazy. She screamed that he had promised her that her students would be safe from outside guests and already she has been made aware that an individual who is not on the list had infiltrated her group. She wanted this corrected immediately or she was not only not paying, but taking to a local principal's list-serve to warn other school about the dangers of this water park. By the time Marie paused for air, the manager was near tears. The kid and his mom were escorted to a remote area of the park. Marie wasn't done.
She called her deans back and asked them to get photos of the student on their camera phones and send them to her. Once she had the photos, she called the county truancy department and informed them that she had photographic evidence that a student who had been called in sick was in fact, at a water park. Marie didn't beat her opponents into submission- she wanted total knock outs.
Of course, all of this took about half a day, involved several government agencies, infuriated a parent who would no doubt call the superintendent, and all to keep a jerky teen from going swimming with his buddies. Worth it? Should student consequences be upheld at all costs? Would you have done the same?
Marie usually put some sort of a behavior rider on the 8th grade trip. Students would be expected to meet some expectation of good behavior in order to attend. Frequently, parents of children who had lost the privilege would try to simply bring their children to wherever the other students were. Marie always got word of this little scheme and would have the police pull the parents car over and let them know that the principal wanted them to know if they continued to follow the bus to this field trip they wouldn't walk at graduation in a couple weeks.
One year the 8th grade class went to a water park for their trip. Marie got word that one of the students who had lost the privilege was planning on having his mother drive him to the park behind the school bus. Marie waited, and the kid was called in sick that day. She called up her deans who were attending the trip and asked them to call her if the boy showed up. Sure enough, he did.
Marie phoned the water park and demanded the manager be put on the phone. When the guy picked up, Marie went crazy. She screamed that he had promised her that her students would be safe from outside guests and already she has been made aware that an individual who is not on the list had infiltrated her group. She wanted this corrected immediately or she was not only not paying, but taking to a local principal's list-serve to warn other school about the dangers of this water park. By the time Marie paused for air, the manager was near tears. The kid and his mom were escorted to a remote area of the park. Marie wasn't done.
She called her deans back and asked them to get photos of the student on their camera phones and send them to her. Once she had the photos, she called the county truancy department and informed them that she had photographic evidence that a student who had been called in sick was in fact, at a water park. Marie didn't beat her opponents into submission- she wanted total knock outs.
Of course, all of this took about half a day, involved several government agencies, infuriated a parent who would no doubt call the superintendent, and all to keep a jerky teen from going swimming with his buddies. Worth it? Should student consequences be upheld at all costs? Would you have done the same?
Monday, April 23, 2012
Knowing When To Pause Things
I was conducting some call back interviews one Saturday morning. I invited one of my classroom teachers to join me and offer an additional opinion on who might be the best choice. Jan was veteran teacher, roughly 50 years old. We were sitting in my office chit chatting and waiting for the next candidate to arrive.
Whenever I am in my office, I have my iPod playing. I have a fairly eclectic music library ranging from Sinatra and Beethoven to Slayer and Johnny Cash. Based on the time of day and who may be in my office, I'm forced to make occasional adjustments to volume or song selection.
The phone began to ring out in the main office. I don't normally bother to answer it, but the candidate was late and I thought perhaps they were lost. My secretary obviously wasn't in on a Saturday, so I hustled out my office and grabbed the phone. It wasn't the candidate, rather some guy trying to sell me something. As I stood there leaning over the front of my secretary's desk trying to get this dope off the phone tactfully, for some reason my mind drifted to my iPod which I hadn't turned off. I have roughly 20,000 songs on my iPod and only a handful are a little salty. The odds of there being something inappropriate were pretty slim. But people do win the lottery...
As I walked back into my office, Jan was pale and leaning back away from the stereo (as if leaning in the other direction made it hard to hear). "What is this music?!"
My Spidey-Sense is good. Probably the worst possible song I'm aware exists had come on- (Thank God the candidate didn't walk in while I was on the phone!) Startin' Up A Posse from the group Anthrax. As I understood it, the song was intentionally written to be as offensive as humanly possibly as a sort of protest to the 'Parent Advisory' stickers that Tipper Gore fought to get placed on albums. You can read the lyrics here, but be warned, they are pretty rough if language easily offends you.
It was a terribly embarrassing moment, and probably one that as principal could have become a larger issue (sexual harassment?) if Jan was that sort of person. Luckily for me, Jan is also a staunch Republican and loathed the Gore's. The explanation of what the song's (which had long been turned off!) intentions were seemed to even pique her interest some. These days when I leave my office, the music gets paused.
Whenever I am in my office, I have my iPod playing. I have a fairly eclectic music library ranging from Sinatra and Beethoven to Slayer and Johnny Cash. Based on the time of day and who may be in my office, I'm forced to make occasional adjustments to volume or song selection.
The phone began to ring out in the main office. I don't normally bother to answer it, but the candidate was late and I thought perhaps they were lost. My secretary obviously wasn't in on a Saturday, so I hustled out my office and grabbed the phone. It wasn't the candidate, rather some guy trying to sell me something. As I stood there leaning over the front of my secretary's desk trying to get this dope off the phone tactfully, for some reason my mind drifted to my iPod which I hadn't turned off. I have roughly 20,000 songs on my iPod and only a handful are a little salty. The odds of there being something inappropriate were pretty slim. But people do win the lottery...
As I walked back into my office, Jan was pale and leaning back away from the stereo (as if leaning in the other direction made it hard to hear). "What is this music?!"
My Spidey-Sense is good. Probably the worst possible song I'm aware exists had come on- (Thank God the candidate didn't walk in while I was on the phone!) Startin' Up A Posse from the group Anthrax. As I understood it, the song was intentionally written to be as offensive as humanly possibly as a sort of protest to the 'Parent Advisory' stickers that Tipper Gore fought to get placed on albums. You can read the lyrics here, but be warned, they are pretty rough if language easily offends you.
It was a terribly embarrassing moment, and probably one that as principal could have become a larger issue (sexual harassment?) if Jan was that sort of person. Luckily for me, Jan is also a staunch Republican and loathed the Gore's. The explanation of what the song's (which had long been turned off!) intentions were seemed to even pique her interest some. These days when I leave my office, the music gets paused.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Collateral Damage
Back when I was a wee lad in my early elementary days, the school librarian had a unique system if students wanted to borrow a pencil. They had to leave a shoe on her desk. The one occurrence where I needed to borrow a writing utensil happened to fall on the same day I had worn Moon Boots to school due to snow and forgot my other shoes. If you unfamiliar with Moon Boots, allow me to fill you in. Moon Boots are made from the same the same material they use on rocket ships to protect them as they re-enter the orbit and go a similar length up the leg as a call girl's boots. The trauma of having to put 3 foot high article of clothing on my teacher's desk in order to complete my school work stuck with me. I decided to use it...
From the day I became a teacher, I used the trick I'd learned when I was 8 years old. In my time in the classroom, I never lost a single pencil. In the majority of instances, kids aren't intentionally trying to 'steal' a supply. The forget they have it, the bell rings, and they leave to head to their next class.
The majority of teachers I worked with took a student ID when they loaned supplies. While this does achieve knowing who has what, it does nothing to help students remember to return things. No child runs into the hallway or out for recess without realizing they are missing a shoe. At the end of the day, my colleagues often had lots of IDs and few pencils. Further, if kids are leaving without their IDs it may cause additional complications for them in terms of buying lunch, getting on the bus, checking out books, etc. depending on how your school uses IDs.
Some students will refuse to take their shoe off. That's easy. No pencil for you! Bring your supplies to class. Some teachers I've shared this about worried about the smell. First, I never actually had them put the shoe on the desk like my childhood librarian. They just tossed their shoe to the side of the desk. Most junior high classes already smell like the inside of a shoe, so I rarely had much of a problem with additional odor. While some kids certainly didn't care for this method of borrowing, most really got a kick out of it!
Marcus Malone didn't like it. He was a student in my summer school class. Marcus was not in summer school because he was a genius. I don't recall him ever bringing anything he was supposed to have. He reacted with the same shock and disapproval every morning when I told him he'd need to leave a shoe if he wanted to borrow a pencil. "Aww, man! I don't wanna take off my shoe!" He'd go back to his seat and seriously think it over (this took a lot out of Marcus) while class went along, and usually would elect to not borrow the pencil.
One morning he walks in and asks to borrow a pencil. I tell him he can absolutely borrow a pencil if he leaves a shoe. Marcus got a big smile on his face, unzipped his backpack, pulled out a spare shoe and set it on my desk. In all the years I'd taught, no one had ever tried this. Kids find all the loop holes!
For the rest of the summer, Marcus brought a third shoe every day. He never once could remember a writing utensil, but could always remember an extra shoe. Accepting the extra shoe didn't really serve the purpose of helping him remember he had borrowed something, but I really loved his out of the box thinking. Him bringing an extra shoe daily instead of a pencil cracked me up and made him feel like he'd 'beaten me' (he had!). Still, I recommend this loaner trick to all teachers.
Wanna know what my bathroom pass was? :)
From the day I became a teacher, I used the trick I'd learned when I was 8 years old. In my time in the classroom, I never lost a single pencil. In the majority of instances, kids aren't intentionally trying to 'steal' a supply. The forget they have it, the bell rings, and they leave to head to their next class.
The majority of teachers I worked with took a student ID when they loaned supplies. While this does achieve knowing who has what, it does nothing to help students remember to return things. No child runs into the hallway or out for recess without realizing they are missing a shoe. At the end of the day, my colleagues often had lots of IDs and few pencils. Further, if kids are leaving without their IDs it may cause additional complications for them in terms of buying lunch, getting on the bus, checking out books, etc. depending on how your school uses IDs.
Some students will refuse to take their shoe off. That's easy. No pencil for you! Bring your supplies to class. Some teachers I've shared this about worried about the smell. First, I never actually had them put the shoe on the desk like my childhood librarian. They just tossed their shoe to the side of the desk. Most junior high classes already smell like the inside of a shoe, so I rarely had much of a problem with additional odor. While some kids certainly didn't care for this method of borrowing, most really got a kick out of it!
Marcus Malone didn't like it. He was a student in my summer school class. Marcus was not in summer school because he was a genius. I don't recall him ever bringing anything he was supposed to have. He reacted with the same shock and disapproval every morning when I told him he'd need to leave a shoe if he wanted to borrow a pencil. "Aww, man! I don't wanna take off my shoe!" He'd go back to his seat and seriously think it over (this took a lot out of Marcus) while class went along, and usually would elect to not borrow the pencil.
One morning he walks in and asks to borrow a pencil. I tell him he can absolutely borrow a pencil if he leaves a shoe. Marcus got a big smile on his face, unzipped his backpack, pulled out a spare shoe and set it on my desk. In all the years I'd taught, no one had ever tried this. Kids find all the loop holes!
For the rest of the summer, Marcus brought a third shoe every day. He never once could remember a writing utensil, but could always remember an extra shoe. Accepting the extra shoe didn't really serve the purpose of helping him remember he had borrowed something, but I really loved his out of the box thinking. Him bringing an extra shoe daily instead of a pencil cracked me up and made him feel like he'd 'beaten me' (he had!). Still, I recommend this loaner trick to all teachers.
Wanna know what my bathroom pass was? :)
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Chance Encounters Of The 3 a.m. Kind
We had a sad little girl several years back with a plethora of problems named Annie. She was not potty trained and would often sit in her waste till one of her classmates complained. She would also pick at her skin out of anxiety till she bled. This left her covered with scabs. As you can imagine, she did not have very many friends.
The trouble was, her parents pretended like nothing was wrong. They'd talked to people or read things that assured them all of her challenges were age appropriate. Annie was academically gifted which they frequently pointed out. Their denial prevented us from being able to provide her all the resources we had available. Our meetings with parents were tense, and the relationship between school and home was strained to say the least.
Around the time this was all going on a friend of mine asked me to go to a Reverend Horton Heat concert with him up by his house. My friend lived about 75 minutes away from where we grew up and hometown friends rarely went out there. He was really excited about my visit and had local craft beer bars he wanted to take me to before the show.
As we enjoying our drinks, I noticed is was almost 8:00. "We should probably get moving." I said. "Openers will coming on soon."
My friend looked at me like I'd forgotten what year it was. "Dude, the opener probably isn't coming out till 10:00-10:30. The Reverend isn't going on till 11:00."
This detail hadn't been shared with me. It was Sunday night and as I sat doing the time-math in my head, I was not liking the results. If the band played for two hours, it would be 1 a.m. and I still had a roughly 90 minute drive (the venue was further beyond his house). I get up at 5:00 a.m.
I never miss work. In the last several years I can recall working without absence while having the flu, shingles, strep throat, & during a property closing. Thankfully not all at the same time. This was going to be tough though. I had an ace in the hole. My wife and I had just welcomed a new baby a few weeks earlier (I only missed two days for that one!). No one would question if I called in and said the baby was up all night crying. So I had a plan.
We got to the show. I was already yawning and wanted to punch my buddy in the face. I'm too damn old for 11:00 p.m. shows on Saturdays let along Sundays. Instead I went to grab a beer. I was standing up at the bar hoping to be served before 1:00 a.m. As I stood there looking down the bar, trying to get one of the bar tenders attention, there he stood doing the same thing. Annie's father.
What the hell was he doing way out here!? I bolted without my massive inflated beers and headed back to my buddy. I wasn't sure if he saw me or not (not being in suit when that's all people have seen you in is better disguise than it sounds), but we were in a tiny venue (less than a 1000 people) and the show hadn't started yet. The odds of him not seeing me at some point weren't real good in my favor. If I didn't show up to work because I was drinking at a rock concert late into the night and that got around to parents, it could be extremely damaging to my reputations. Plus, this guy hated me. Fuck.
I nice thick fog rolled over the area as the show ended to make driving nice and slow. I got home at 3:36 a.m. I slept for one hour and 24 minutes. I then got up and went to work. Coffee anyone?
The trouble was, her parents pretended like nothing was wrong. They'd talked to people or read things that assured them all of her challenges were age appropriate. Annie was academically gifted which they frequently pointed out. Their denial prevented us from being able to provide her all the resources we had available. Our meetings with parents were tense, and the relationship between school and home was strained to say the least.
Around the time this was all going on a friend of mine asked me to go to a Reverend Horton Heat concert with him up by his house. My friend lived about 75 minutes away from where we grew up and hometown friends rarely went out there. He was really excited about my visit and had local craft beer bars he wanted to take me to before the show.
As we enjoying our drinks, I noticed is was almost 8:00. "We should probably get moving." I said. "Openers will coming on soon."
My friend looked at me like I'd forgotten what year it was. "Dude, the opener probably isn't coming out till 10:00-10:30. The Reverend isn't going on till 11:00."
This detail hadn't been shared with me. It was Sunday night and as I sat doing the time-math in my head, I was not liking the results. If the band played for two hours, it would be 1 a.m. and I still had a roughly 90 minute drive (the venue was further beyond his house). I get up at 5:00 a.m.
I never miss work. In the last several years I can recall working without absence while having the flu, shingles, strep throat, & during a property closing. Thankfully not all at the same time. This was going to be tough though. I had an ace in the hole. My wife and I had just welcomed a new baby a few weeks earlier (I only missed two days for that one!). No one would question if I called in and said the baby was up all night crying. So I had a plan.
We got to the show. I was already yawning and wanted to punch my buddy in the face. I'm too damn old for 11:00 p.m. shows on Saturdays let along Sundays. Instead I went to grab a beer. I was standing up at the bar hoping to be served before 1:00 a.m. As I stood there looking down the bar, trying to get one of the bar tenders attention, there he stood doing the same thing. Annie's father.
What the hell was he doing way out here!? I bolted without my massive inflated beers and headed back to my buddy. I wasn't sure if he saw me or not (not being in suit when that's all people have seen you in is better disguise than it sounds), but we were in a tiny venue (less than a 1000 people) and the show hadn't started yet. The odds of him not seeing me at some point weren't real good in my favor. If I didn't show up to work because I was drinking at a rock concert late into the night and that got around to parents, it could be extremely damaging to my reputations. Plus, this guy hated me. Fuck.
I nice thick fog rolled over the area as the show ended to make driving nice and slow. I got home at 3:36 a.m. I slept for one hour and 24 minutes. I then got up and went to work. Coffee anyone?
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
A Nightmare Of Climactic Proportions
Allen was an extremely low special education student who struggled with his social skills. He was harmless, but he did cause frequent problems for himself (and us) by regularly calling others students 'gay.' This is inappropriate and requires correction from any student. However, it was particularly ironic in Allen's case because he was being raised by two gay women! That fact that Allen honestly didn't understand this should begin to paint a picture of his cognitive level.
One day Allen kept falling asleep during a test. Nothing seemed to be able to really wake him up. We sent him to the bathroom. We went and got him a snack. We let him go outside for fresh air. However as soon as he was back in his seat and working on his exam, he'd start to nod off again (I know what you're thinking, the test must have been about Common Core Standards, but I assure it wasn't anything that boring). We began to ask Allen the standard questions.
Teacher: What time did you get to bed?
Allen: 8:30 I think.
Teacher: Allen, why then are you so tired?
Allen: I don't know.
Teacher: Allen if you got that much sleep you shouldn't be this tired. Did you sleep good?
Allen (a little upset): Yeah, but I did get woken up in the middle of the night. Both my mom and Angela had a nightmare in the next bedroom and woke up screaming at the exact same time!
We let Allen take the rest of his test later and allowed him to sleep on the nurses cot. Usually we call home in instances where kids are too tired to function in school, but we just let this one go.
One day Allen kept falling asleep during a test. Nothing seemed to be able to really wake him up. We sent him to the bathroom. We went and got him a snack. We let him go outside for fresh air. However as soon as he was back in his seat and working on his exam, he'd start to nod off again (I know what you're thinking, the test must have been about Common Core Standards, but I assure it wasn't anything that boring). We began to ask Allen the standard questions.
Teacher: What time did you get to bed?
Allen: 8:30 I think.
Teacher: Allen, why then are you so tired?
Allen: I don't know.
Teacher: Allen if you got that much sleep you shouldn't be this tired. Did you sleep good?
Allen (a little upset): Yeah, but I did get woken up in the middle of the night. Both my mom and Angela had a nightmare in the next bedroom and woke up screaming at the exact same time!
We let Allen take the rest of his test later and allowed him to sleep on the nurses cot. Usually we call home in instances where kids are too tired to function in school, but we just let this one go.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Reason #1 Why Student Teaching Sucks
The high school I did my student teaching at had recently experienced tragedy and embarrassment at the hands of a student-teacher. A year or so before I arrived, a male student-teacher had taken a student out somewhere for sex. Drinking was involved and the student was killed when the student-teacher got into a car accident. As a result, this school became extremely particular about who was working with their students. Just to work their for free, I had to undergo an extensive interview. I also had to promise not to have a job so as to give a full commitment to being a teacher. I agreed.
Student teaching, as far as I can tell, is about the only unpaid internship that still exists. As an administrator, I (usually) love having the free labor on hand. It really sucks to go through it though.
When I agreed to the terms put forth, I had, I think, eight dollars plus some loose change. When they told me I couldn't get a side job, I was initially pleased. My excuse not to work had arrived! The problem I discovered after I believe, if I recall correctly, one day, was that I still liked drinking beer. The people who traditionally had this beer (bar tenders, liquor store owners, my buddy Frank) typically did not give it away for free. That eight bucks wasn't going to go very far.
Never in my life have I had zero dollars other than when I student taught. I don't even remember how I paid for gas. My parents lent me money from time to time (my father recorded everything I borrowed during that time, from a stamp to a twenty dollar bill, in a 'little black book' that he took great joy in waving in my face). I charged some stuff. I drank Busch Light.
Mind you I didn't need a lot of money to get by. All college kids are poor. I survived on about 50 bucks a week in college happily, but there's a big difference between fifty and zero.
I was at home one night grading papers (translation- watching television) when I got a call from a market research company. Every now and then they'd call me up and have me come in and taste some product Taco Bell was considering or answer questions about my chocolate buying habits. It would take about an hour and they'd give you twenty to thirty bucks for your time. Their timing couldn't have been better.
When they call, they go through all sorts of routine statements when you tell them you are interested ("HELL YES I'M INTERESTED!). I wasn't really paying attention as I was already day dreaming about what I might do this weekend and how I wouldn't have to give my father the satisfaction of another entry in his book. Then the woman on the other end of the phone said the most gorgeous thing to me that's ever been uttered.
"We'd like to invite you to come in to participate in a test sampling beer." I peed a little in my pants out of joy. But it got better.
After going through a few more procedural things to ensure I was 21, she informed me that this study ran in the evenings over the course of the next two weeks. I would need to be available all 10 nights. At the end of the study, I would be paid $250.
I've never won the lottery, but now I know what those people feel like when they check their tickets and realize they'll never need to work again. This market company was going to pay me to do what I was going to be doing anyway! They weren't just going to pay me- they were going to pay me 250 dollars! I don't think I'd ever seen 250 dollars in the same place. Did I even need a teaching job? I was getting 250 dollars! $250!!!
"Again, to qualify for the study you need to be available every night of the study. Is that going to be a problem?"
Of course it wasn't going to be a problem. I left school by 4:00 every day, didn't coach, and of course, didn't have a second job. "I'm good to go...err... um, I actually am realizing I have one minor conflict." It hit me. I had parent/teacher conferences one night over the two week window. My cooperating teacher was a real prick and would no way let me out (not to mention, I needed to be there).
I begged. I told them my sob story. I promised to drink extra, come on weekends, anything... It was no use. I wasn't a candidate. I needed a fucking drink.
I will forever have bad memories of student teaching & parent/teacher conferences, as well as general bitterness towards our profession due to the loss of my own opportunity to paid to drink beer (ok, perhaps I'm being a touch dramatic). In the end, I went out the and got a weekend job for the remainder of my student teaching. Screw em'.
Student teaching, as far as I can tell, is about the only unpaid internship that still exists. As an administrator, I (usually) love having the free labor on hand. It really sucks to go through it though.
When I agreed to the terms put forth, I had, I think, eight dollars plus some loose change. When they told me I couldn't get a side job, I was initially pleased. My excuse not to work had arrived! The problem I discovered after I believe, if I recall correctly, one day, was that I still liked drinking beer. The people who traditionally had this beer (bar tenders, liquor store owners, my buddy Frank) typically did not give it away for free. That eight bucks wasn't going to go very far.
Never in my life have I had zero dollars other than when I student taught. I don't even remember how I paid for gas. My parents lent me money from time to time (my father recorded everything I borrowed during that time, from a stamp to a twenty dollar bill, in a 'little black book' that he took great joy in waving in my face). I charged some stuff. I drank Busch Light.
Mind you I didn't need a lot of money to get by. All college kids are poor. I survived on about 50 bucks a week in college happily, but there's a big difference between fifty and zero.
I was at home one night grading papers (translation- watching television) when I got a call from a market research company. Every now and then they'd call me up and have me come in and taste some product Taco Bell was considering or answer questions about my chocolate buying habits. It would take about an hour and they'd give you twenty to thirty bucks for your time. Their timing couldn't have been better.
When they call, they go through all sorts of routine statements when you tell them you are interested ("HELL YES I'M INTERESTED!). I wasn't really paying attention as I was already day dreaming about what I might do this weekend and how I wouldn't have to give my father the satisfaction of another entry in his book. Then the woman on the other end of the phone said the most gorgeous thing to me that's ever been uttered.
"We'd like to invite you to come in to participate in a test sampling beer." I peed a little in my pants out of joy. But it got better.
After going through a few more procedural things to ensure I was 21, she informed me that this study ran in the evenings over the course of the next two weeks. I would need to be available all 10 nights. At the end of the study, I would be paid $250.
I've never won the lottery, but now I know what those people feel like when they check their tickets and realize they'll never need to work again. This market company was going to pay me to do what I was going to be doing anyway! They weren't just going to pay me- they were going to pay me 250 dollars! I don't think I'd ever seen 250 dollars in the same place. Did I even need a teaching job? I was getting 250 dollars! $250!!!
"Again, to qualify for the study you need to be available every night of the study. Is that going to be a problem?"
Of course it wasn't going to be a problem. I left school by 4:00 every day, didn't coach, and of course, didn't have a second job. "I'm good to go...err... um, I actually am realizing I have one minor conflict." It hit me. I had parent/teacher conferences one night over the two week window. My cooperating teacher was a real prick and would no way let me out (not to mention, I needed to be there).
I begged. I told them my sob story. I promised to drink extra, come on weekends, anything... It was no use. I wasn't a candidate. I needed a fucking drink.
I will forever have bad memories of student teaching & parent/teacher conferences, as well as general bitterness towards our profession due to the loss of my own opportunity to paid to drink beer (ok, perhaps I'm being a touch dramatic). In the end, I went out the and got a weekend job for the remainder of my student teaching. Screw em'.
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