The Seventh Year Stretch

I have spent most of the morning walking in circles. Not because I have nothing to do, on the contrary, I have too much to do and not enough energy to get it done. I walked into the Deans' Office at 8:45 am and it was full of activity. A student pushed past a teacher who was blocking the doorway. The teacher says she pushed her. The student says she was trying to get by. We weren't there.

A year ago, I'd want to know all the details. Who, what, where, when and what can I do to help. A professional version of a nosy kid who likes to be in the middle of it all, but now for a good purpose. This morning, I walked right past. Whatever. I dont want to know.

Instead, I plan for my Support Service class (I'm trying to prepare them for the Reading and Writing RCTs though I have no specialization in teaching reading or special education) which I dont do at home because I just can not bring myself to. Then, I realize I must get to the 8th Floor, Principal's Office, to get permission slips for the show I am taking my senior Theater Elective students to go see. The 8th Floor, my office is on the 1st. Ugh. I could wait and have a monitor do it for me but what if she doesnt show up?

I just stand there. I walk into the hallway. I walk back to my desk. I sit down. I check my e-mail. I look for a student I need to reprimand for cursing at a teacher. The teacher called her a Punk, so she called her a Fucking Punk. Pretty fair, no? I know this student. She is in my support service class. She had a bad day yesterday. She is obsessed with her phone. I know she isnt in school yet. Probably wont come today. I could call her at home. I could call her mom again.

I go to get the permission slips instead.

I have been working seven years to get to this point. I have received about a ten thousand dollar raise since I began and three new titles, with new responsibilities. My assistant principal makes a little over a hundred thousand dollars. And, I'm craving some superficial job perks like an 'in' at a cool restaurant or maybe a left over fancy gift bag. Either one would be fine.

My inner clock knows the bell will ring in about ten minutes.

And, really, when it comes to teaching at an inner city public high school in NYC, I have it good. Real good.