I am, seriously, that girl. Not Marlo Thomas That Girl ( dating myself there) but that girl that always has an opinion….that girl that always seems to piss someone off and who has the audacity to believe that what I say is important AND that I deserve to be treated with respect.
I am retiring. leaving my teaching job after, at last count, 22 years, 4 months and 10 days. And yes, they do count that way…I am retiring in March. Yes , March. And, yes, I do know that the school year ends in June and that by leaving in March I am deserting my students, letting them down, quitting on them.
Anyone who knows me, or who knows another really good, really devoted teacher knows this is one hell of a big deal and not a decision that comes easily. The kicker was the day I was questioned for having a bowl of lollipops on my desk — and for having a composition book for a sign in book, instead of a “formal, leather bound book”. The day my suprientendant walked into and out of my room without acknowledging with so much as a grunt, my students. Bingo. You ignore and disregard my students and then tell me “its all about the kids.” bullshit. straight bullshit. Exit stage right. March first.
So I thought about the repercussions of this treatment. I came up with the idea that , really, the only weapon I have in this fight is my feet. I can stay and continue to be picked apart like yesterday’s roast chicken, or I can turn and walk. I choose turn and walk. It is important to me that i send my students, mostly young women, the message that you do not have to let things happen to you. that an intolerable situation can be left behind. that respect is key and that demanding respect for yourself is accepted, expected.
they are gonna be pissed. We have been trying to open a preschool in my school, and the interference of district personnel has not allowed it to happen. My girls are going to be pissed.