I Can Be One of the Faces in The Yellow Wallpaper

teachinwhat

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.

About joey

Neurotic Bitch, Mother, Wife, Writer, Word Whore, Foodie and General Go-To-Girl
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21 Responses to I Can Be One of the Faces in The Yellow Wallpaper

  1. Ali Turner says:

    I was going to comment that I resemble that remark…but I don’t. Neither a licensed or aspiring English teacher. I am a doctoral candidate…but for business administration. That’s a whole different beast, but I don’t seem to fit the mold there either. I wear stilettos, thigh-highs, and too much eyeliner. I use the Oxford comma. I’m such a rebel. *snorts* I do think you would find teaching rewarding. I am the type that would be happy to make it through the day without having assault charges filed against me. I *might* be able to teach college economics or marketing. “I don’t really like children,” says the mother of five.

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  2. gothhicgoddess says:

    I’m glad that you’re following the one path and not the other. *warms hands by the fire*

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  3. LindaGHill says:

    Whatever path you decided to take, career-wise, I’m glad you chose to blog. You’re one of the best. 😀

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  4. Pingback: First Post Challenge | joeyfullystated

  5. Dan Antion says:

    It was nice to visit the headwaters of the river Joey. I think you could be in the wallpaper, but something tells me you would always stand out. I hope you know that I mean that in a good way.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. This first post challenge is kinda like finding a silver dollar on the sidewalk. A lovely surprise.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Wonderful post! I think you made the right decision, too. Your talents are definitely appreciated here. Thanks for participating! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  8. La Sabrosona says:

    So glad I found you Joey. You are good for my brain and provide solid nutrition to my funny bones 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  9. hollie says:

    History teachers aren’t known for being fashionistas, either. I can’t tell you how many times I rolled into a classroom, especially when I was a GTA and heard, “but you don’t look like a history teacher.” I think they expected a stuffy old man.

    Liked by 1 person

    • joey says:

      Yes. I only took Western Civ in college, and my prof was a smallish, mousy sorta woman who wore “walking” shoes. That’s one of the few classes I had to study for, what with all the dates.
      In high school, all my history teachers were male coaches. Some of the laziest teachers I’ve ever known in my life. I did have one good one, and boy did I love him. Looking back on it, I realize I was one of his faves, too. He was the first person to tell me I was type A. I went in, upset with my B, and he showed me my 89. Gah. Meanwhile, my boyfriend had an 81 and he wasn’t upset at all, cause type B. LOL Good times 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

      • hollie says:

        I had horrible teachers in social studies in high school, if anyone had told me I’d grow up to get two degrees in it, I’d have laughed them out of the room! I liked a couple of them as people, but they hardly inspired me with the material. I was planning on going to cosmetology school out of high school because I was so burnt out on academia, then decided to go to college for English/secondary Ed…but after a semester or two I became a history person who took English classes as electives. Our English department has a delightfully crotchety man who spends half of the class cracking comments about his ex wife, but I loved him. He is who introduced me to Charlotte Perkins Gillman’s work.

        Liked by 1 person

  10. markbialczak says:

    You’re quite the you, you. May in-the-dark Mark ask from the future what an HME is, Joey?

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  11. kirizar says:

    I’m coming into this story late. It sounds like you’ve been wrestling with a job identity crisis. Teaching was a short lived pastime of mine. (It passed me by in less than two years. So at least you made it 2 1/2.) Based on the way education is heading, your HME might be right. Hopefully you’ll find the path you are meant to walk–and not trip–down.

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