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Since my parents didn’t seem to like my intense summer
plans, which included things like ‘be lazy’ and ‘play video games all day’,
I had to find a summer job. Luckily, I didn’t have to search or turn in
several applications because my father works at a local community college
and was able to find a job as a teacher’s aid in English class of the summer
school department. Perfect, I thought, the job is temporary to begin with,
so no mess about having to quit and I would get valuable experience in
teaching, which is what I plan to do after (if?) I graduate; and I found out
they didn’t care about my dyed hair (it’s only black anyway, so it falls
into the natural color range unlike some other colors it has been dyed) and
my plethora of ear piercing.
So I went in for the interview, and got
the job (though it took about a week and a half to find this out, but
apparently the woman who was supposed to call me the next day to tell me,
didn’t). I met my two bosses, both of whom were very nice and agreeable, and
so this job was starting to look better and better. I met one of my
coworkers, another teacher’s aid, who had shown up for her interview in pink
sweat pants and pink fuzzy slippers (how she got the job, I will never
know).
Then I met my students.
Granted this is summer school so I didn’t expect brilliance, however
when a student going into their senior year of high school tests at the
third grade level it’s rather discouraging. But I went on with the best
outlook possible, graded lots of papers, worked with students who were
having trouble, and generally just tried to do my best, as cheesy as it
sounds. As much as one tries, one cannot do everything and I tried to
convince my students of this. About have of them were of the idea that the
assignments were optional, and that we would pass them even if they never
turned in a single assignment. Umm, no….
We recently had the end of course exams (I
don’t think I have ever been so eager to finish a job), and I don’t know
what is more sad: that the average equivalent grade level was about eighth
grade, or that this was an improvement. Oh well, at least they learned
something, I think, and I did get good experience in teaching so it wasn’t a
complete waste.
My coworker never did develop a better sense of dress
though; I don’t know how many times I saw those horrible pink sweats.
Brenna, Helvetia gloria still smile
behind the shade of shame
Currently watching: Invader
Zim Volume 1: DOOM DOOM DOOM
Currently Playing: Golden Sun
Currently Listening to: Samael – The Cross
Currently Reading:
Gustave Flaubert – Madame Bovary
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