Goodbye....HELLO!

I guess I'll start at the beginning. Last year was rough. I mean, really rough. It was my fifth year teaching in day treatment and really life should not have been as difficult as it was. I started the last school year fresh, and renewed, coming off of my trip to Costa Rica and having a fun-filled summer with my Chinese exchange students. Then, around October things at work started getting a little dicey. My team was sort of unraveling and I felt obligated to keep everyone together, or else, I risked losing control of my classroom. Meanwhile, my supervisor would return from his weekly meeting with a bleak outlook on funding for our program. First of all, we barely had any kids/clients. A day treatment program does not run without students. Do not ask me where the children with mental illness are because I know they're out there! In fact, I would see them several times walking through the halls of our host school. The truth of the matter is, though, schools don't have the money to pay for students to attend specialized classes. They are barely keeping their heads above water as is! The way that funding currently exists in our state means that schools take a double-hit when children are placed in our programs. They lose money and they end up having to pay money, in some cases. All in all, it's a really bad set up. Mental health agencies know it, schools know it, teachers know it, and even most families know it. Guess who doesn't know it? Well, that's for another post/rant. So, there we were with four staff; myself, a behavioral support specialist, a therapist and an instructional assistant. And, we had four students. Yes, four students. Can you imagine? I know every teacher that is out there reading this is thinking, "This chick had four students? Puh lease. Try 45." I know, I'll take that, and I totally get it. I'd also like those out there that may be thinking that to also consider that the children I was working with were basically so lacking in skills that they would bite, throw things, scream, punch, kick, etc. to communicate their needs. Yikes. Regardless, a one to one ratio is still unheard of this day and age. Thus, the reason to be afraid. Our number situation would fluctuate. We would get an influx of students who weren't particularly appropriate for our setting. Yet, I found myself trying to do everything within my power to keep the kids in my classroom for fear of numbers dropping and having to close our doors. Then, November came. Unfortunately, November only brought more bad news. We found out that one of our satellite classrooms was being closed, and another program was having to move to a new location in the middle of the year. People were given very little notice and the process of "bumping" began. My behavioral support specialist was one of the first to be bumped, as another B.S.S. had more seniority. So, by the beginning of December, my classroom was jumping with kids that were not suitable for day treatment, and brand new staff members. At this point, our instructional assistant (she may have been promoted to BSS by this time?) decided she was at an age where she was just over running after kids up and down the halls and outside. Who can blame her? So, now, to add to the chaos, we had a new staff person handling all the BSS responsibilities, inappropriately placed kids AND we were going to have to start the job search for a new instructional assistant. By the time Christmas came I knew I was pretty much resolved to the job search the following spring. With this new resolution always looming in the back of my mind, I began to pray. "Thank you God for giving me such great experience in this teaching position. Please let me be tolerant of carrying out your will. Give me guidance and patience and let me know when the time is right. Oh, and can I please, please, please, please have a new job? Amen." As the months went on, there would be these brilliant moments of hope. We would be told that things seemed to be coming together and some big moves were being made in the legislature and to hang in there. Yes, hang in there because things are looking up! And, for a time they were. Then, the clouds would move in again and the anxiety would spike. This cycle persisted through most of my days. Then, as if by magic, a position opened up at the host-school I was working. An 8th grade language arts position. Now, if anyone knows anything about me, it is that I cannot get through an interview to save my life. So, at first I was very apprehensive. Then, one night it just hit me. I had to apply. What was the harm? If I didn't get the position, then, I would have my job to fall back on. If I didn't get the job, then the school wasn't as great as I thought it was to begin with, then was it? I submitted my application. A few days later, the principal called me and said they would like to interview me for the position. I remember thinking after I got that phone call, oh drat, shit just got real. I began scouring my brain for potential interview questions and may have even made a few (hundred) notecards so that I could help myself practice. I know, neurotic, right? Here's the deal. I am really so terrible at interviewing that I completely freeze and literally....literally...start crying. I wish I was joking. It's the most awful, embarrassing moment. As the interview date drew closer, I knew I had but one thing I had to do: confess to the principal. Naturally, she was confused about why one would break down sobbing in an interview, and honestly, I wish I had a solid response for her, but, alas, I have nothing. It's a freak phenomenon. It's just too much nervousness and anxiety that it all comes pouring out my eyeballs, I guess! When I interview, I always take precautions. From valium, to therapy, to exercise, to deep breathing, I have tried every possible calming strategy I know of. This was no different. I had gone to workout prior to the interview. I spoke with a counselor. I practiced breathing with my Hoberman sphere. I did my hair and makeup and put on a really cute outfit and off I went to the school. The minute I stepped foot into the office, the same office I walk into every single day, I began to panic. Sweaty palms, rapid pulse, and, oh, there it is, the lump in my throat. The number one indicator that I am about to cry. In my head, I calmed myself down, assured myself this would only be a very limited amount of minutes of my whole life, that I was prepared, and I chugged water. Then, it was my turn. Oh boy. I made it through the first few questions all right. I knew I was barely holding it together and my resolve was crumbling with every new question. I may have made it through about three questions when it really hit. Oh God, here we go. The crying begins, then the embarrassment sets in, then the humiliation, etc. It's a brutal cycle. I sucked it up, though, and got through the rest of the interview. This was by far the best I had ever done in an interview, but it was still disappointing seeing as how I thought I had prepared myself enough to really show what I know. I immediately went home, rewarded myself with a hot shower and hopped into bed. I remember texting with some friends to let them know to not expect to hear anything else about said job interview because I didn't want to talk about it. Just then, I got another call. The principal, again. She said the panel decided they would like to watch me do a demonstration lesson. WOOHOOOOOOO! What a relief! I made it through the worst part and now I got to do the thing I really wanted to do; teach. She gave me the content strand they wanted me to teach to and I began planning immediately. It took me about 2 days to come up with a decently solid lesson, as teaching something in isolation is pretty tough. As the days went on, I felt more and more confident about how my lesson would go. The day of I felt excellent. I had all my materials. I was fully prepped, and ready to go. Then, came the waiting time prior to the lesson. Excruciating. The second-guessing settled in. Maybe I should have done this? Or, I could do it this way? Wait, I didn't think about...? Finally, I was exhausted. There was no way, at this point, that I could address every variable. It just wasn't possible. So, I went in, and taught. It was the most fun I have had teaching in probably 4 years. I was making connections with kids! They were engaging, me! I absolutely loved it. When I left the interview, I thought, shoot, that was fun! I've really got to get a different job. But, I also knew, through years of practicing self-reflection that I could have shifted, and adjusted, a lot of things in that lesson to make it go more smoothly. By the time I got home that night I was fully spent. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for 12 hours. And, that's pretty much exactly what I did. Right after I said my evening prayers. "Dear God, thank you for getting me through that horrible process. Thank you for walking me through it and showing me the way. Now, can you please urge them to tell me their decision one way or the other? I may die if I have to wait all weekend. Amen." The next morning I went to work as usual, though, I did consider calling in sick. You know, just so I could stay home and second-guess the lesson even more. The what ifs...and the should haves...were powerful, but I decided that the best thing to get my mind off of it would be to follow my normal routine. Off to work I went. When I got to school, my supervisor was really late. I mean, REALLY, late. Finally, he called our classroom line and said he was on his way but he got held up outside because he was called as a reference for a one Judy Tacchini. Apparently, they had talked for a very long time on the phone. I thought, this has to be a good sign right? But...maybe it was wise to not get my hopes up just yet. A little while later, the principal showed up at my classroom door and asked me to step out into the hall for a minute. You have to know the principal, but she had to put me in suspense a while longer and said, "I have some good news and I have some bad news." Uh oh. "I'll start with the bad news. The bad news is, (insert agency name here) will have to find a teacher for next year....because the good news is, we would like to offer you the job." Now, I had reason to cry. Tears of joy! I wanted to jump up and down and scream and cry, and I could not stop smiling. What a wonderful Friday. And, that, folks, is a very lengthy description of how I got hired on as an 8th grade language arts teacher. Stay tuned for Chinese school updates, classroom decor photos, etc. It's all gonna be here folks. As long as I continue not sleeping, I will continue writing.