I talked to my HME today. It was a brief chat, as she was only ten minutes from work. She told me she lives in her car, when in fact she lives in a lovely ranch home, but I got her point. Working mothers; vroom, vroom, vroom.
HME asked me to call her in reference to my inability to make decisions. She thought she could play the Monica to my Rachel. Of course, by the time she spoke to me, I’d already come to a decision, but I thoroughly delighted in the fact that she thinks I made the right decision.
After searching the state’s website and a subsequent phone call to double-check, the decision was made for me. Nice Lady on the phone confirmed I am not qualified to have my teaching license renewed, as I have only two-and-a-half calendar years, and I am required to have taught for four. I did have the option of going through an entirely different program to obtain a brand-new teaching license, but I burnt that idea to the ground before Nice Lady and I even hung up.
HME poured fuel on that fire, by telling me how she discourages everyone from teaching, at least in the Midwest. *insert details of political uprisings, salaries connected to test scores, and incompetent parents here*
She thinks publicly writing and furthering my education is a fabulous idea. She went on about what a gift of communication I have *gush gush* and how I shouldn’t waste it on stupid people.
See, in a university English department, I wouldn’t even stand out. Among my own people, I am not the hippy-dippy-trippy, non-conformist, geeky weirdo. In a university English department, Joeys are like the wallpaper. Hoards of women in long skirts and clunky shoes, heads all topped with cropped-close dos or some version of a bun, wearin dirty glasses and tryin to shove red pins and Kleenex into the non-existent pockets of their pilled sweater sets. Sexy-sounding harem, isn’t it?
Go ahead and Google images for fashionable English teacher. Go on, I’ll wait.
That’s right. Not a one of them are fashionable unless you count the ones who are drawn that way.