Mostly irritable, with a chance of pride and gusts of irrelevance

Irritable: That lady who can give me my Highly Qualified gold star is on vacation until 10/3, and she's got her out-of-office automatic reply on. I wrote a letter, and it's Highly Cranky. I don't actually expect you to take the time to read it, but I'm including it at the end of this post just so you can admire my balance of snarkiness and professionalism. Well, I may need to edit to go more professional and less snarky.

Pride: I might have mentioned before that the one thing missing at my new school is a sense of camaraderie among the staff. Well, I could probably have made a life's work out of bitching about it, but that's the kind of path my dad would choose. I did something else: I invited everyone to lunch. I sent out an e-mail asking if people would be interested in a pot-luck salad, where each person brings one ingredient (lettuce, tomatoes, avocado, cheese, dressing...) and we all eat together. I got quite a few responses, and we did it today. I sat in the sunshine at a picnic table with my co-workers, eating a salad we'd created together and sharing conversation. Instead of, I should mention, in my room with 20 teenagers playing minesweeper while I eat a Weight Watchers frozen meal. It was nice. We're doing it again in two weeks.

Pride, part deux: My friend-who-is-sort-of-also-my-boss (in that he coordinates the program I teach in) has an extra prep period to do all his coordinating. He is trying to stop by everyone's classrooms periodically and just observe so he knows what's going on. It's a good idea, and I support it, but like anyone, I'm made a little nervous by professional observation. And I am a major goofball, so today I'm describing to the kids what kinds of oral presentations they can do, and acting out super-fast versions thereof when he comes in. I may, in fact, have been in the middle of something like this as he walked in; "You could be a character many years after the book ends reminiscing about those years, like, uh... 'Hi, I'm Jimmy Cross, and it's thirty years later, and I still regret not touching Martha's knee all night.'" So I'm imparting information, but I'm also jerking around. Afterwards, he came up to me and said "I always like watching you teach. You're so passionate." That felt good. At least he didn't say "goofy."

Pride part trois and three and a half: I got a note from one of our union reps asking me to join their ranks. The note was very flattering, saying that she thought I'd be really good at it. So I was proud of that. But I turned her down, knowing that at this point in my life I have about as much on my plate as I can handle, and I need to continue to devote time to myself and my relationship. So I'm also proud that I said no. Very few of my readers know why that's a good but difficult decision for me, but there's a history, too. See, my pop has been a site rep for years and years, and he's devoted a lot of evenings to it, a lot of hard work, and invested a lot of emotion into it. And it's pretty much made him crazy and unavailable. I can't be those.

Irrelevant: And finally, on a goofy note, I asked the kids in 6th period if they were done copying down the assignment from the overhead, and the student nearest the overhead reached for the off button. But another student said he still needed it, so I asked button-girl not to push it yet. She said "But I want to push the button." And I had a full-on Tiny Toons flashback to the episode when Plucky Duck pushes all the buttons on the elevator ("elelator") and possibly flushes the toilet countless times. I don't even remember it that well other than his voice saying "I wanna push the button!" Which I probably said to my closest high-school friends one thousand times. And I realized I couldn't do the little voice for my students, because they have never seen Tiny Toons. How old am I, fer chrissakes?

The letter I promised with identifying shit deleted:
9/22/06

Dear Ms. L,

I am aware that you are out of the office, but when you return, I would respectfully like to request a reply to this letter.

In the 2003/2004 school year, my school secretary, BLANK, requested my Highly Qualified Teacher paperwork. I turned it in at that time (we were using the “point” system) and never heard anything more about it.

In the 2004/2005 school year, I was informed that I was not a Highly Qualified Teacher, and therefore must submit the paperwork to prove that I was. At that time I was given the “flow chart,” which I promptly turned in. I never heard anything about it.

In the 2005/2006 school year, I moved to Horticulturalist High. I was informed by our assistant principal, BLANK, that I was not a Highly Qualified Teacher and I needed to submit my paperwork immediately. I had a flow chart, copies of all my credentials, test scores, and diplomas and a cover sheet signed by the principal, BLANK. I never heard anything about it.

On September 21, 2006, at the beginning of the 2006/2007 school year, I was summoned to a meeting in principal Blank’s office. I was again informed that I was not a Highly Qualified teacher, and must immediately rectify the situation.

As you can imagine, I am confused and frustrated. I have no way of knowing whether my paperwork was received or not, and no way of knowing whether I fit the qualifications or not. Is there something missing? When I am actually accepted as a Highly Qualified Teacher, is there some sort of certificate or letter of acknowledgement I should expect? To the best of my knowledge, I fulfill the requirements in any number of ways (I have a B.A. in my core subject, an M.A. in the same subject, have passed the Praxis, SSAT, and CBEST, and have been teaching for seven years). I feel as though I am doing my best to prove that I meet the requirements of No Child Left Behind, but have had woefully poor communication in return. If there is something missing, I will happily and promptly rectify it, but I need to know what it is. I am looking forward to your reply.

Thank you,

Count Mockula