My long term substitute position has come to an end. Monday is the "crossover day" where I will pass the torch back to the permanent teacher and then throw myself into the pool of per diem substitutes. Sigh. I have spent most of January dreading this moment. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not I will have a job each day, of going into different buildings, different classrooms, never knowing what breed of student torture awaits me has been turning my hair gray and tying my stomach in knots. I have been offered another LTS position, but it does not start until late April. In the meantime, I have taken on a second job tutoring inner city kids two nights a week. The program is paid for by a NCLB (No Child Left Behind or as I like to refer to it: The worst act to ever enter the world of education) grant and helps kids who are falling behind on their state tests. Mostly I work with K-3 kids on basic reading skills. It's been quite the change after working with 11th and 12th graders. Honestly, I miss my 7th graders. Such a nice, happy, hormone-driven medium.
But I digress. From what, I don't really know. From rambling on in my self-pitying state. I am hoping that the daily exposure to students who may or may not shoot spit-wads at me will make me a stronger person in the end. That coupled with the debilitating winter we are experiencing, with record lows and snow like I haven't seen in years, makes me think of a Princess Bride quote. Will I survive until April? "That would take a miracle."