On Love, Hate, and Subbing.

So I've been thinking about writing an angry post about this school I've been subbing in. I was going to even tell you which school until I heard that one substitute who had been working in the district for more than 20 years was fired because of her troubles with the students (The kids hate her...they call her Mrs. A**licker). Monday I subbed in this school and I had one period of hall duty. Generally, you can tell where you are supposed to be for your hall duties because there will be a chair in the general location of where you were told to go. On Monday, however, there was no such chair. I looked all around, and then just assumed where I should probably be, and leaned against a wall, reading my book. Hall duty is pretty easy, except when there are kids running around, and you try to clotheshanger them, and no one offers any help when you tell them that such and such a girl has just been wandering around all period. Wait, what is my purpose standing here in the hall? What am I doing? Wasting time? Alright. Being an inexpensive security camera? This is probably closest to it. One teacher walked by and stopped to address the fact that I was standing. "Oh, crap," she said, "I forgot that we aren't allowed to sit anymore. I wouldn't have worn these boots!" During lunch, I started talking to another teacher about how maybe it's best that we aren't allowed to sit, it forces us to be more fit or something (see: my new year's resolution). He agreed and told me that he generally just walks around anyway, "patrolling." At this point another teacher came in and joined the conversation. She basically said that it was a ridiculous thing, that one of the principals had declared that there would be no chairs in the hallway and had them removed. This principal merely told everyone that they weren't allowed to sit anymore, without issuing a written memo. This other teacher told me to just grab a chair from a nearby classroom, that it isn't a fair burden (another duty one might have is a Study Hall, in which you are allowed to sit), that the union is fighting it.

So that was Monday.

Tuesday I'm in this school again, but in for a different teacher. My Hall Duty is right outside the classroom I'm subbing in, and I pulled a chair out and sat in it. The hall monitor stood next to me, chatting. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the principals (the one that had not sent out a written memo) looking at me from the second floor interior window (this school is full of bad architectural decisions). With walkie-talkie to mouth, this principal walkied the security guard next to me and demanded for the removal of the chair. You know, the one I was sitting on.

It was about this time that another teacher (whose duty was also that period in that location ...overkill) came by and told me all about the fired sub, and the principal who is not a force to be reckoned with. Good thing I didn't have to learn *that* the hard way.

Ok, so today is Wednesday, and I was supposed to sub in this school again today. And if the fact that 1. blogger is blocked at this school, 2. this school gets out after 3 and 3. I'm typing this at 2pm isn't any indication of what happened, let me spell it out.

Today I woke up at 11.
I drew a deep breath and picked up my phone.
1800 GOOG411.
****** ******* School, ********, NY.
"Connecting"

The secretary that I talk to all the time answers, and I quickly explain that I don't know what happened, and I am so sorry, and if they still want me to come in .... yadda yadda.

She was surprisingly nice about it. She said they were surprised, because they know me and know I'm dependable. She said they had it covered from within. She said she was just jealous that I had only then woken up. She asked if I was available Thursday and Friday.


Verdict?

I both love and hate that school.

Goog411 is totally worth not paying whatever it costs to dial normal 411.

I need to get more sleep. I try to do too much, and too much never includes sleeping.

I'm not allowed to tell you this,

If I've agreed not to tell anyone something, does that indicate that I won't tell the specifics or I won't tell the story? I'm going to take, in this case, it to mean the specifics. So I won't tell you the specifics. (Do I ever? That seems like a good way to never get a job and maybe get sued).

I subbed today. Surprise, surprise. I woke up right when my alarm clock went off, feeling totally awake. I knew I had enough time to go back to sleep, and even though I was wide awake, I took advantage of the half hour. When I woke up, I didn't exactly have enough time to make lunch, so I threw these things in a bag: a container of cottage cheese, a raspberry yogurt, almond butter, jelly, a loaf of italian bread, and a muffin and a half. I don't have a ton of money. Ever. I got a statement about my taxable income from the past...8? years, and I don't quite understand why I don't qualify for food stamps. It's got to be well below the poverty level. Even I was surprised at how little I earned last year, subbing full time and all. So sometimes I'll splurge and get all the ingredients to make a very involved dinner, and sometimes I just eat a lot of beans or toast (but not beans on toast, though I hear that's a regular English snack [breakfast?]). When I arrive at the school I don't have time to put my lunch in the fridge, which is concerning because, as you'll recall, I packed dairy products. It was actually a few hours before I had a chance to do this. By this time, I had eaten the half a muffin. I went to the teachers lounge and put the cottage cheese, the yogurt, the jam and the almond butter in the fridge. I put the whole muffin in my bag, and left the loaf of bread (in its bag in a shopping bag) on the counter. Before I left I noticed a giant ziploc bag of Halloween candy on the counter. Sometimes people leave stuff for you to nibble on. I helped myself to one of the tiniest candy bars ever. The bag was mostly filled with malted milk balls, which I hate. I never understood why people would pay extra to ruin their milkshake like that, and I never got the appeal of the candy. There was one additional tiny candy bar in the bag, and I fought myself for a good thirty seconds before deciding to eat it. I've never been a big fan of finishing up things that aren't mine.

I had felt a little foolish making a point to put my lunch in the fridge at that time, as it would be hardly an hour before I'd be eating it, but oh well.

I went back to the teachers' lounge at lunchtime, and noticed the bag of candy gone. I didn't think anything of this, maybe whoever was sharing decided not to share anymore. I got out my yogurt and my cottage cheese and then realized something else was missing --- my loaf of bread. I've been eating a lot of bread since I bought this loaf. That is to say, I've probably consumed 6-8 pieces of toast, and somehow, the loaf is still larger than most of the smooshy square loaves you find. So, most of a loaf of bread, in its bag in a grocery store bag is no where to be found. I look in the fridge, poking each and every plastic bag contained within. None of them contain a loaf of bread. I look atop the fridge, on the table and counters and in every single one of the cabinets. I stop and think about the steps I'd taken just in case I'd left it somewhere else.

Nope. Definitely left it there.

I find a piece of paper. I write a note. I try to sound as non-accusatory as possible:

TO WHOEVER RELOCATED MY LOAF OF BREAD:

PLEASE RETURN IT OR LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU'VE PLACED IT. I'M SUBBING FOR [such and such a teacher].
EMILY (11/4)

I'M POOR AND HUNGRY, THEY DON'T PAY SUBS TOO WELL! :)

I told the other adult who was working in the room with me. This other adult was furious. This other adult lacks confidence in the trustworthiness of the rest of the faculty and staff. This other adult acknowledged that where I left my bread is commonly read as "up for grabs."

During an afternoon break, I took out a book. A member of the administration poked in the room, asking how my day was going.

"Pretty good, except that someone took my bread...." I really didn't want this to go unnoticed. I was already formulating my blog / facebook status / twitter post about it.

I was angry.

(Dear Thief at Such and such a school. Stealing a loaf of bread? Seriously? They have GOT to pay you more than me. If they don't, I suggest seeking employment elsewhere)

"I heard!!!" the member of the administration replied, voice containing sheer concern.

I described the specifics of the loaf. Italian. Sliced. From that bakery in that town (in case it was spotted).

Soon after, the other adult in the room with me returns, having somehow been filled in on the details of my missing loaf. It feels really pathetic at this point to make such a big deal out of a two dollar loaf of bread, but it wasn't just my lunch. It was my breakfast, lunch, dinner, on and on. It was the vehicle for all the condiments that make up 75% of the food contained within my refrigerator.

The other adult in the room is a fan of italian bread. This makes the crime more heinous. The other adult in the room presses a five dollar bill in my hand. I insist that this isn't neccessary, fight it, try to give it back. I finally give in , pocketing this bill. I tell TOAITR that the bread only costs $2, but TOAITR insists that I deserve two loaves. Soon, TOAITR and I run across the principal, who has also heard about the bread antics. The principal reaches into a pocket, saying "please let me buy you another loaf." I inform the principal that TOAITR has already done so, but no one really needed to do that, I just wanted to get my original loaf back. The principal apologizes profusely, and then asks that I please not tell anyone about this.

So I feel like maybe I'm cheating the principal, but maybe not including the story would cheat the subbing portion of my blog. And I'm going to assume that what the principal was concerned about was the story being linked to the (forever unnamed) school.

It's been a tired, cranky week.It's worse when there isn't food to be had. Going to bed hungry results in difficulties waking up.

Do you think I was getting paid back for eating those candy bars?

Do you think my house got egged because I refused to answer my door on Halloween even though I was clearly home? (I didn't have any candy! Or maybe I was egged because some kids hate me because I'm a sub and they know where I live? Or maybe I was egged by that guy in the Jeep because I honked at him?)

Happy Halloween, loser.

In which Emily Is. Not. Scared. and reads some Poe to her cat, in continuing of a several year long tradition.

Stood Up

For some reason, I am always being stood up. Unlike the unfortunate movie character, however, I am usually stood up by friends.
Granted, it is not all of my friends. Some of my friends are really good at making and keeping plans. Some are not.

It has gotten so bad that I have had to discuss it with one or two offenders. This usually helps, but only minimally.

Tonight I was stood up by one friend who is usually good at keeping plans. I would be upset with him, but he is moving away.

Our plans tonight were not just for hanging out, they were for saying goodbye.

I feel really weird. If I say: 'screw you, bud' then I never see him again and we left on a bad note.

If I try any harder to get ahold of him.....I don't know, it just isn't worth it. I left him two messages on his answering machine (he only has a landline), and I stopped by (as per the plans) and he wasn't home.

Some thoughts about Tech Decks

LAME