My first week of work in the public school system went just fine. Sure, the kids were more than a little rowdy in my classroom, we haven’t gotten to do anything fun because of mandatory testing, and I am a nobody compared to my predecessor, but I really just need to get through this one ½ section at a time right now. Some of my older students have explicitly expressed how my predecessor, we’ll call him Mr. Maple, is smarter, better looking, more fun, more interesting, a better teacher, cooler, and all around 120% more awesome than I can ever even dream of being. One student even told me they liked Mr. Maple more than me before I even had the chance to tell them my name. Kids are awesome. I mean it sarcastically here, but I also do truly believe that kids are awesome.
My streak as the world’s most awkward, clumsy, incompetent person continues at my new place of employment. It seems everything I touch malfunctions, and it is difficult to explain to my new colleagues that I am not shocked that the printer won’t connect to my computer or that my computer has shut itself down twice in one day. In fact, these are mild annoyances as compared to everything else I manage to do.
At one point, my classroom key didn’t work. That was awesome, because I had all these important papers on the other side of the door, but the key didn’t turn in the lock. After feeling pretty ashamed that I could even get the key to turn in the lock (for those of you who don’t know me, I am not very good with keys. You might say I am key-inept.), I trekked down to the main office. The woman at the front desk gave me a look like I was crazy when I explained the situation, and told me to go back and try again. I did this. I also recruited some other teachers to come try my key. That is how I met some of the fourth grade mainstream team.
The conversations went something like this:
Me: Hello! My name is Ivy McDougalhopper. I am the new ESOL teacher around the corner.
Other Teacher: (Insert polite pleasantries)
Me: I can’t get my key to turn in the lock, and the office told me I had to try again. I was wondering if you would mind trying it just to make sure I am not completely imcompetent.
Other Teacher: (reluctant agreement. Maybe a weird look.)
Me; Thank you.
After these awkward encounters, I returned to the office to report that not only could I not make the key even jiggle in the lock, but several other reputable teachers couldn’t work it either. The woman at the front desk sent me back to my room to check the number on the key and the number on the lock. Of course, they matched. So I had to go all the way back to the office and report that yes, the numbers matched, but the key really didn’t work! I did not get into my room that day.
The next day, I left my keys and badge with the head engineer and went to a meeting. I picked my lanyard up from the office 2 hours later, and the problem was magically fixed. I mean, I started the school year majorly behind in my very important paperwork since apparently no one could use a master key to let me in, but I can get in and out of my room just fine, now.
On another day, I needed a copy of the class lists for all the grades I service. Since my name and password are currently not accepted on the district wide student data base, I had to go down to the office and ask for a hard copy. The woman in the office told me she didn’t have the proper training to print that off for me because the software was new. Instead of asking her politely why she didn’t just press print, I asked her where I could get one. She sent me to the Assistant Principal, but he was out of office for 2 ½ hours, so that was no good. Then I was sent to the principal’s assistant, and she gave me her only hard copy and told me to take it to make a copy for myself.
I know how to use a copy machine. In fact, I make copies all the time. In fact in fact, I had even made several copies on the machine prior to this incident. This time, however, since I was working with an important person’s document, I failed.
The copier sucked in the first page, then sucked in the second and got jammed. With no idea how to fix the problem, I had to go to the woman at the front desk and ask her for help. She fixed the problem pretty quickly, and was not as annoyed with me as she should have been, so that was nice. Unfortunately, the copier got jammed again. This time, however, since I had watched closely before, I knew how to solve the problem. I did everything just like I had seen the woman at the front desk do. Unfortunately, this time the paper had not only gotten jammed, but the copier had eaten the first sheet. There was literally a bite out of one side of the first page. I had to run to my ESL colleague’s room to try to tape it back together.
Once the “surgery” was complete, I attempted take 3 at copying the class lists. This time I was successful, and the amount of pride and happiness I felt from copying a 45 page document is kind of laughable. But let me tell you, when I do simple things, I don’t ever do them simply.
