Pay Day

I have heard that some teachers cry when they receive their first paycheck. The monetary value of the work they've done does not compute and they weep. I may be off the mark, but when I received my paycheck today I wanted to do cartwheels through the staff room. For the last fifteen months I have been living on student loans which I've supplemented with occasional substitute jobs, proctoring SATs, and part-time holiday work at REI. I have stopped short of donating plasma by asking my parents for small "loans" here and there. I've been making it through the last two months on $100 a week! So, while I certainly felt like my 15 hour days should be compensated in a much bigger way than my paycheck shows, I'm also delighted to be making money at teaching -- finally. Last year was like volunteer teaching as a student teacher and I resented that any classroom supplies I had to buy were essentially accruing interest.

Despite getting paid for the first time this year, today was a rough one. I actually said this to my students: You know. I could quit my job today. I got paid. Yeah, I think I could make it another few months on the money I got today. I could actually quit! What do you think about that?

They got very quiet, for the first time. I lucked out. They could have cheered at the idea of never seeing me again, but they didn't. I'll be frank: I did consider quitting my job. I am tired of my students. Here's why:

A student who I see three periods of the six period day (English, Advisory, and PE) wore an afro wig to school today. I should have confiscated it immediately, but decided to ignore it. Instead of working on revising his autobiographical essay, he shoves the afro wig down his pants, walked around the room, and flaunted his fake pubic hair. He was written up for sexual harassment just yesterday! When I tried to take the wig away (after he took it out of his saggy pants, of course), we got into a ridiculous tug of war and I eventually gave up the cause though walked away with strings of curly black hair threaded through my key lanyard. This is so frustrating. I want to help my students become better writers. I am tired of trying to build a civilization.

And now I'm home on a Friday night with the remnants of a bad cough, money in my pocket, and no where to spend it (except rent and student loans). I'm looking down the barrel of an evening of grading and a weekend of more grading and planning. I'm doling out F's and preparing for the onslaught of complaints next week when report cards hit. It won't matter that I spent three hours of my sick day calling students with last minute reminders to get their work in or fail. It will be my fault in their eyes.

At the end of all of this, I don't think they paid me enough!