DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

I'm a SuperTeacher. You didn't know? I can teach three weeks' worth of new material to unmotivated low achievers in one week while simultaneously reviewing 21 weeks' worth of old material, reteaching and retesting last week's material, and fitting in the required one day of small groups per week and 20 minutes of reading per day.

I can outline every last detail of it on a lesson plan so clearly that a substitute or another teacher could come in and do it exactly as I planned to.

And I can make them LIKE IT!

I can get 3 hours' worth of paperwork done in 45 minutes. In the same 45 minutes, I can call 4 parents and document the details of each phone call, reprint progress reports for 6 students who lost theirs, order a new toner cartridge, file 180 graded students assignments into 80 different student folders, go to the teacher workroom on the other end of campus and scan 80 tests, record 80 test grades in the gradebook--- twice--- once by pen in the paper gradebook, and once in the electronic gradebook because I'm required to do both, submit copies for tomorrow's lessons, write 16 test questions at various depths of knowledge, take a phone call from a counselor to discuss John Doe and mark my calendar for the parent conference we're having tomorrow, fill out behavior modification documents on John Doe and three of his cohorts, look up 80 addresses in the computer and write them onto 80 envelopes, make copies of the 80 letters that are going into the 80 envelopes, stuff the 80 letters into the 80 envelopes, run the envelopes up to the "outgoing mail" basket, file the 80 copies of the letters into the proper student files so I can prove I sent them, erase the answers off the board from the previous class, and get to the doorway and muster a smile before the next class comes. Then I greet them warmly and spend the next two hours appearing to be-- a) not stressed out at all, and b) completely focused on them.

In the English department meeting, I can bite my tongue when I am criticized for not having accomplished 100% of the above during my 45 minute break. I can smile and agree that I am not meeting the expectations of my job. I can smile when it is implied that this means that I don't care about my students, that I may have something negative noted in my evaluation and/or my personnel file, or that my students' lack of achievement is the result of my shortcomings.

When I get home at the end of the day, I turn on the tv and see a politician promising to "raise the bar" on these schools, get rid of lazy educators, and begin paying teachers based on their students' performance.

And none of it gets to me, cause it's just a job after all. And I don't really care anyway, remember?

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', it's my pity party and I'll bitch if I want to, teacher life

Today I packed a giant suitcase with way too many pairs of shoes and left Petal around 4:00. On the way, I had a 45 minute conversation with my mom. She's still one-legged, and therefore unable to go to the grocery store. I told her I'd stop at Wal Mart in Hernando and get whatever she needed.

When I got to the Debble's Playground I was amazed at how easy it was to find everything on my list. No thought went into the list. I had written it while driving down the road at 80 mph and simultaneously talking on a cell phone, after all, but almost every item was found in the store in the exact order that it was on the list. Perhaps my mother is such an experienced grocery shopper that she knew instinctively how the store would be laid out-- despite the fact that she does almost all of her grocery shopping at Kroger. Or maybe she's just a really, really frequent shopper at Mal Wart. Or maybe it was luck. I'm betting on luck.

Whatever it was, as I strolled up and down each aisle I couldn't help but think about how fortunate I was that every item was practically jumping into my basket for me. After all, I had been driving for about four and a half hours, and I was nervous about the fact that I was inside the Wal Mart while my suitcase, laptop, birth certificate, social security card, marriage license, and a bunch of cash were in the car. Within five minutes, I had all 16 items checked off the list. I made my merry way to the front of the store to check out.

Lo and be-freakin'-hold, there was one register open. One register with a human, that is. Every single "self-check" register was open.

Now I don't mind checking myself out. I've learned that it's faster to just let a cashier do it, but sometimes it's worth it when the other lines are too long. I do mind, however, being forced to check myself out. It's just shitty customer service, plain and simple. But faced with the decision to either check myself out or walk to the opposite end of the line of registers to stand in line to be checked out by a human, I decided to check myself out.

If you've ever attempted to do this, you know how pushy and persnickety these self-check registers can be. You have to scan an item, then immediately place it in the bag. If you don't place it in the bagging area immediately, the machine knows you didn't bag the item and it won't let you check the next item until it either feels the weight in the bagging area or you push "skip bagging" on the screen. Every time you make a non-mistake that the machine doesn't like, a loud computerized voice chastises you like a child.

Place item in bagging area! Place item in bagging area!
It's a forty eight pack of paper towels! It can't be bagged!
*skip bagging*
Place item in the bagging area! Place item in bagging area!
I AM, dammit! Give me two seconds!
Scan your next item!
I'm still placing an item in the bagging area!
Scan your next item!
*scan*
Please wait for assistance!

ARRRRGH!

This time I had to push "skip bagging" several times because it wasn't sensing that the item was already in the freakin' God forsaken bagging area. Apparently, if you push "skip bagging" more than two or three times, it freaks out on you. I'm just sayin'. Cause it freaked out on me. It started flashing threats at me and screaming at me to STOP! STOP! Wait for assistance!

The lady who was standing at the little monitoring station where they stand and watch you do their job didn't exactly come running. I had to go get her. Do you think she punched in a code to tell the machine that I'm not a crook and that it's okay to let me proceed? Nnnno. She would scan an item, then hand it to me and say, "Now place this one in the bag." Then she would scan another item and hand it to me and say, "Now place this one in the bag." Seriously, she was talking to me like I was some kind of 'tard. The machine would not deal with my bananas because she scale was being a bastard. So once all of my items were scanned and bagged, she told me to go ahead and pay while she went to ring up my bananas on another register. While I paid with a debit card the lady weighed my bananas on the register next to me, then she went back to her job of watching me do her job. I then had to move over to that register and pay in cash for the bananas.

Call me crazy, but I'm thinkin' it would have been easier, faster, and less RIDICULOUS to just have that woman open a damn register and check people out.

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, stupid people, Wal Mart is The Debble

The amount of bullshit in my job is overwhelming. I've said before that for every hour I spend teaching, I have to spend two hours doing paperwork to prove that I'm teaching-- or that I'm adhering to the special plans for the SPED kids, or that I'm doing this or that or the other thing that might leave someone behind. I'm all for accountability, but some of this shit needs to be eliminated, and the rest needs done by a freaking secretary. Every time some asshole who doesn't work in a classroom gets the bright idea for a way to make HIS job easier, it makes mine harder. EVERYTHING falls to the teachers. Let me ask you this: Since we're the ones who spend the time in the classroom with the kids, doing the actual teaching, shouldn't someone else step in and take care of some of the documentation? I mean, wouldn't that free us up to, oh, I don't know, TEACH?

It's not like I don't work my ass off. If a piece of paper doesn't get printed out, is that really worth knocking morale down ten points for? I'd take this kind of thing much better if I didn't have to get to work at 7:30, leave at 5:30, and work at home until 9:30 just to keep my head above water.

Anyway, the thing is that at any given time there are at least a dozen things which must be done, and each and every one of those things is urgent. Everything is at the very top of the list of priorities. There's not much room up there, you know. I like my bosses-- all forty seven of them-- but I don't think it's right that I'm given 900 things to do, and all 900 must be done immediately and they shit their pants if it's not, but they've got one or two things that they're supposed to be doing for me, and I can just suck it until they get around to doing it at their leisure.

I'm still taking off Friday. I was going to go visit my mom and 'nem in North MS, but now I'm thinking about just using the day to catch up on work. Right now I'm debating on it. Maybe I will work at home all day Friday and try to get most of my work done, and go up there Saturday morning if I feel like it.

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, Good Old Fashioned Bitchin', teacher life

Remember the school district I said was a long drive from here that offered me a job? The principal is the one who called and asked me what I had been wearing at my interview, because she wasn't sure she had the right person. Yeah, those nutsos. (One of the posts I wrote about it is here.)

If you recall, I never officially accepted the position but their central office called and told me I had been recommended anyway. The principal offered me the job, told me to let her know if I wanted it, and the very next day I got a call from someone at the superintendent's office saying she was writing my contract and needed to verify how long I've been teaching. I wanted some time to pursue another job, so I told her I wouldn't be able to come sign the contract for two weeks. She said, "There's nothing to sign. The job is yours." That made no sense to me. Teachers work under contract. There most certainly is something to sign.

I never really wanted this position, especially once I met the principal. When they were the first to offer me a job, I put them on the back burner while I stirred the other pots. Comprende?

When I finally secured the job that I did want (which also happens to not be 75 miles away), I tried to call the principal of the other school to tell her I had accepted a position elsewhere. I left two messages to tell the principal that I needed to speak with her about the position. She never called back. I tried calling the personnel lady at the central office, but she didn't call back either.

After a couple of weeks had passed, I assumed they had probably given the job to someone else--- and if they didn't? Tough. My butt is covered. If hers is feeling particularly exposed, she might try to return a phone call.

Welllllllll...............today I received a letter from their central office. It congratulated me on my new position with their district, and informed me that I was required to attend a new teacher orientation session a couple of weeks from now.

I immediately sat down and wrote a letter explaining that I had attempted to contact them several times, and that I had accepted another position, and I faxed it to them right away.

I wonder if I'll hear anything back. Someone's gonna be pissed when they realize it's July 10 and they've got an empty position that they thought was filled. I never signed a contract, but I did sign a letter of intent when I applied for the job. Still, it's not binding. My biggest concern is that they're going to try to say I was committed. I'm worried about that because the lady said, "There's nothing to sign" when I mentioned the contract. How can there be nothing to sign? They're notoriously incompetent. I hope they're not also shady enough to try to wreck my reputation or claim I signed something.

Ah well. I'm sure I'm being silly. Considering the number of incompetent people I have encountered at various district offices across this state, I'm sure this happens all the time. It's one more example to support my theory that the problems with the educational system in this state really lie with the administrators and their supporting staff-- not the teachers.

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, professional screw-ups, teacher life

--Ever since we went to church, some mystery person has knocked on our front door on four separate occasions. We never answer. Their timing is incredibly bad, if you know what I be saying. They're 2 for 4 so far.

--At first I felt guilty for not answering the door, but I changed my mind. Why should I feel guilty? Call first! I don't like people knocking on my door unannounced unless they are bringing money, and even then, why not just call first?? Even if I'm not busy, I might not come to the door. I don't always wear a bra around the house, FYI, and I'm not coming to the door with my girls bouncin'.

--As I've shared in previous posts, I have been trying to lose weight for some time now. Recently, I started to see subtle signs of progress. My love handles are shrinking, for one, and my waist is slightly smaller.

--Today at TH's sister's house, she said I look like I've lost some weight. I was thrilled.

--So thrilled that I ate a piece of cake. And some fruit salad.

--I'll be walking 3 miles tonight.

--I have to go back to the colon doctor sometime around June 13-ish. That will be the next time I'll be weighed, which will be one month after the last time I was weighed. My goal is to see a smaller number on June 13. I think 10 pounds is a reasonable goal.

--The older I get, the less I talk when I'm around people. I find that I sound smarter and smarter.

--Sometimes when I say things, they come out the wrong way, or I don't emphasize what I'm really trying to emphasize, and I'm frequently misunderstood. This creates conflict.

--Who wants conflict? Especially when it's just because you were misunderstood.

--Blogging has made me a lazy writer. I used to make sure everything was spelled correctly and that there were no grammatical errors. This came easily to me because errors were like vinegar being sprayed into my eyes. They jumped out at me, and stung. I couldn't resist changing them. Now I don't cringe nearly as hard when I see one.

--I think a year of looking at 7th grade level writing (which was 2nd grade level writing where I worked) has made me less sensitive to shiddy writing. Taken the edge off my grammar nazi-ism, so to speak.

--The way things are going, I may never again look at 7th graders' writing. But that is depressing, and I've decided not to be depressed or anxious about it anymore.

--My eyes were opened to what I'm dealing with when the principal called and asked me what I wore to my interview. That was so tacky. I won't let my self-esteem slip down one single notch for someone like that. Not one notch.

--My eyes were opened further when TH put his arms around me and told me he was proud of me, and that I didn't deserve anyone's pity because I'm not pitiful.

--If he knew what enormous power he has, his head would be the size of the Hindenburg. (I mean before it burst into flames and crashed to the ground.)

--Must walk. Must walk. Must walk...

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, Musings on the Man

The various vultures of this world work so hard at ripping my flesh off that I occasionally have to dedicate an entire day to beating them back with a stick. Today is turning out to be one of those days.

My insurance company still hasn't paid a claim that was filed in February. I had a pap smear. They say they're not paying it because I have a pre-existing condition. I had a pap smear. That's the only thing on the claim. It's a routine annual exam. Having a vagina is like having a car-- you have to take it in for an oil change every 3000 miles. It's in the manual. So I have been trying to explain to them that unless having a vagina counts as a pre-existing condition, their reason for denying the claim is bunk.

Of course you can never solve a problem by talking to one person, or one vulture entity. You have to talk to several different companies, piece the bullsh*t together, and try to figure out a solution on your own, since they can't manage it even though it's their 9 to 5 job, not yours.

So the first person I talked to at the insurance company sounded like a young girl. I was frustrated, because this is the third time I've had to call them about this, and I've done everything they've asked me to do and they're still not paying the claim. After ten minutes of listening to b.s., I raised my voice slightly and told the girl that they were just giving me the same excuse over and over again. She decided to put me in my place. This pisses me off-- when some little girl in some nothing job decides that she's gonna flex her muscles and put me in my place. First of all, you don't yell at me, Little Girl says firmly. For the record, I didn't yell at her at all. I barely raised my voice, and only raised it after five minutes of trying to explain something to her that should have been on her computer screen in black and white. Basically the don't yell at me thing is just another avoidance tactic that they're trained to use, in my opinion, so as soon as they use it on me I just say, Your supervisor, please.

Her supervisor was only slightly less mentally challenged than she was, but at least she understood what I was saying, even though the solution was a non-solution.

After that, I had to call vulture number two-- the doctor's office. They have been told three times to re-file the claim with a different code. They claim they've done it all three times, but the insurance company says they're not getting it. My biggest question is this: Why the hell am I the one who has to run back and forth between the two? I don't understand what either one is doing, and making me the go-between girl only further complicates and confuses the matter. The doctor's office files the claim with the insurance company, so why can't the insurance company call them if there's a problem? Because of the fine print that says I'm responsible for the charges if I can't find my way through the bureaucratic kudzu maze, that's why. They've got every reason to make it complicated-- because if I get frustrated and decide to "just pay it," they win. And the doctor's office could care less who pays, as long as someone pays, so they have no reason to help me out. They're all working together to rip me off, I tell ya.

There's a third vulture in this clusterf*ck, and that's Forrest General Hospital. I don't even know why the hell they're the ones sending me the bill and threatening me. They are the employer. The doctor I saw isn't even through them. He's in a separate organization across the street. They do work with that organization (Forrest General makes sure they get lots of business by requiring all of their employees to use them), but if I owe anyone money, shouldn't it be the doctor who saw me?

I'll admit I'm confused-- they've successfully made my eyes cross. But they will NOT get me to just pay it. I've been known to fight this kind of bunk for years. I even win one every once in a while.

Labels: Bureaucratic Incompetence, professional screw-ups, stupid people