In Complete Contrast...

Dear internets,

When last we spoke I was feeling very disheartened. Sad. Desperate. Yes, even bitter. But that was two weeks ago, and I feel much better now due to recent developments that I haven't had very much time to sit and write about. I haven't had time to sit still for long at all. Because of my new job.

My new job at a school.

Where I now teach.

*does jig of joy*

I would like to sit and type all about it right now, but as you know, teachers (like me) get up early. And when teachers (like me) also have babies who still wake up at night, teachers (like me) are very very tired and want to go to bed at nine thirty. Which was twelve minutes ago.

I love you internets. I am not edgy or witty or interesting tonight, mostly because right now, I am too busy being happy.

Love,
Mo
xoxoxoxoxo

More Adventures of the UnEmployable

My job search involves one of those catch-22 situations.

They all want to hire someone with more experience, which I can't get unless someone hires me. I thought that some of my other interviews went well. No drippy squirrels or wardrobe malfunctions. I thought that some of them were actually pretty good.

I know it's egotistical to watch TV and see the stock market crashing and big banks going out of business and the unbelievable polls showing McCain ahead 6% and feel that of course all of these things would happen. What else would happen on a Monday when I was positive that one of my interviews would call me back, but no one did. What other kind of day could there be in a world that lets me think that I can use my many thousands of dollars worth of college education to provide for my family so that maybe we can pay the oil bills and pay off some debt and buy this house and not be so consumed by angst every single day; but then sees to it that no one calls me?

Bitter.

I'm sorry, internets.

Mo is bitter today.

Wherin I Prove Myself Classy.

Things to do at an interview to impress people (or possibly show that you are a tacky and horrible person):

1. When asked why you want to teach, reply "for the money." (Funny, right? I thought so.)
2. Wear only suit Monday. Go in to unexpected second interview on Tuesday morning wearing gray pants and button down blue shirt, looking like a Circuit City employee.
3. Arrive soaking wet because you forgot your umbrella, had to park in the back of the building, and just ran across two parking lots through drenching rain. Talk to lots of suits about your "love of literature" looking like a frizzy, drippy squirrel.
4. Realize that zipper is down and stealthily adjust the issue when principal in suit turns his back. Realize that secretary mostly likely saw you do that. (silently vow to burn these pants)
5. Ask blunt question about the school's system of rigorous testing using the phrase "chafe under restrictions."

Interviews suck.

The Mall. It's Like, TOO Much Fun.

Us: We are not buying you seventy dollar sneakers.
Her: But I need shoes.
Us: Not for seventy dollars you don't. Maybe forty or fifty. We can look somewhere else.
Her: *huff* Well, I'm. Like. NOT. Getting shoes. From...Payless. *huff*
Us: Cool. I guess we can go home then.

And we did.

We did not, however, spend that fifty dollars on bottles of wine and crab legs, like we were seriously tempted to do. Because we are good parental units and not yet driven to spiting a teenager, no matter how temporarily gratifying that might be.

You Have to Respect the Argument.

I am continually amazed at how sophisticated kid's opinions can be concerning complex topics. I really think people underestimate a child's ability to navigate the subtleties of social and political points of view and come up with their own substantial and often well articulated arguments.

For example, we took Wendy to the playground today for a Labor Day picnic, and I overheard this conversation between two boys who looked to be about ten:

"Who are you voting for?"
"Easy. Obama's got big ears, but Palin is totally hot. I'm a rebumlican now."

And this, my friends, is why I want to teach. Constant intellectual conversation.