Counting Chicks and Tits

Wow.

It's been a full week since I last posted, which hasn't happened (much) before. You know what I was doing? Applying for a job.

You may be asking, "It took you a full week to apply for a job???"

And the answer is well, yes. Yes it did because nowadays as it turns out, many employers want prospective employees to apply for things online. This, I have never done before. And considering the fact that I can barely operate a Flip, you all should be very impressed with the fact that I got it done inside of 5 days. Not only did I fill out 7 pages of an online application, but I uploaded, scanned, and faxed numerous other official documents that they asked for. I'm feeling very accomplished. And nerdy.

Anyway, the job is one of those too good to be true sounding deals where I would be able to work in the field of education, leave my home only once a week to report in, and still make 3K a month. Nice work if you can get it. I'm competing with a lot of pink-slipped educators, so my chances are slim. And there's the little fact that I let my teaching credential expire back in 'o6. At the time I was 9 months prego with J, and for some reason having a baby overshadowed my drive to secure myself professionally. Oh well. It happens.

So, although I probably won't get called for an interview, I can't help but dream away my days with thoughts of what I could do with an additional monthly income of 3K:

1.I could get a pedicure EVERY WEEK!

2. I could buy clothes outside of the Target Mossimo Collection.

3.We could afford to take the car for an oil change AND have a date night in the same month!

4.OMG, I wouldn't have to shop at Wal-Mart anymore!

5. (This one's my fav) I could hire a part time nanny to take care of the kids while I worked at home in the a.m. Do you know what that would mean??? UNINTERRUPTED TIME ON THE COMPUTER DURING (GASP!) DAYLIGHT HOURS!

Anyway, that's what I have so far. If you happen to think of any suggestions that I'm missing, by all means, let me know what they are!

Before I go though, I have a little story to tell you. All this thought this past week towards a teaching job has made me reminisce about my days in the classroom. What I'm about to tell you is my favorite teaching story, and if you're a good friend or relative chances are you've heard it before. Sorry, but I get a kick out of it, so bear with me here.

Okay. Picture 25 year old me- fresh faced and right out of my credential program. I'm standing in front of my very first class, and it's the 3rd day of school. I'm teaching Kindergarten in a very low socioeconomic area. Very low. Like, so low that blond haired blue eyed me who grew up middle class in Burbank is having trouble dealing with her culture shock. A quarter of my students don't speak English, and another quarter have parents in jail. Not what I imagined when I pictured my first classroom back in my cushy days of graduate work.

Nonetheless, these kids were already growing on me. I'll never forget my first class. There was a little boy named James who had the attention span of a gnat- no joke. I literally had to hold his hand while I stood in front and taught, otherwise he'd be turning somersaults across the carpet. There was sweet Michelle, who understood not a word of English, but would smile at me whenever I asked her anything. There was a little boy who wouldn't answer to me when I called him by his given name, Daniel. He stubbornly insisted I call him "guero"- which basically is the spanish word for "white boy". Try feeling professional while referring to a 5 year old as "guero".

And then there was Jamal.

Jamal was a big boy. He was 7 years old and at least 70 pounds. He didn't just sit on the rug- he kind of hulked on it. He had a bit of an attitude- so I made the hasty decision on day 1 to keep him in front of me on the carpet during whole group instruction.

So, day 3. We're doing math and I'm instructing the kids how to make the number 3 on the chalkboard. My back is to the class as I'm talking over my shoulder, and Jamal with his corn rowed hair is sitting front and center.

I'm saying, "Okay, guys. You start at the top and make a big fat bubble to the middle, then you go out once more and make a big fat bubble all the way to the bottom. And that's the number 3!"

I turn and beam at my motley crew. Jamal is looking thoughtful and raises his hand. Without waiting, he calls out "Teacher! That look like a tit!"

"Wh- what Jamal?" My smile is frozen on my face. Surely, he didn't just say....

"I said, that looks like tits!"

I'm thinking, "Is he saying tits? He's saying the number 3 looks like a pair of tits?" I'm still flabbergasted. While my mouth is gaping and moving up and down, all I can get out is another stupid "What?"

And then chaos ensued. Half the class starts shouting at me that he said "Tits." The other, (more innocent) half is adamant that he said "Tent." They're fully animated in their debate and I can see a few of the more worldly students instructing their classmates to tilt their heads sideways so they can see the tit resemblance. I realize I have to regain control, and fast.

"Boys and girls. BOYS AND GIRLS! We're moving on to the (thankfully less curvaceous) number 4."

This story has a happy ending, though. Last year I had to travel all over this valley to do assessment testing for an No Child Left Behind program. One of the doors I knocked on was answered by a very tall, very big, 14 year old Jamal. Turns out he tested well, got good grades, and was very polite. It was great to see him, though I do confess that while working with him, it took everything in me not to ask the one burning question playing in my mind:

"So Jamal, what do you see nowadays when you look at the number 3?"

I couldn't bring myself to do it. And that's probably for the best.

You all have a good night!