Technically today was a day off. Yet there I was, filing and sorting and rearranging and organizing, for about four hours. What other job is there where doing your job without an audience is considered “time off?”
I have to admit that I am almost giddy with anticipation over my new assignment for next year. My life will be so much easier, and that will be the next best thing to not working at all. And I will be getting a small raise, and with the money I will save in gas alone, it will be a bigger raise. About 9% if I figured that right. But you know, with what teachers make, 9% of “not much” is even less. However, it is better than a pay reduction, so I’ll take it. Plus, when you figure in the commute time saved, I am sure that my raise is substantially larger in a sort of non-taxable way. Odds are good though that hours saved driving will translate to longer hours in the classroom, because as we all know by now, there is no end to this job. Not until the end of the year. And technically it isn’t even quite over even then.
Speaking of which, I need to look into professional growth units. You know, something to do in my spare time. Of which I have so much. Sleep is for wimps I say.
We are off next week, which is a tremendous perk. We are going away for a few days, and I have a crate full of papers to grade, and report cards coming up right after we get back. Who’s the lucky, lucky girl here? Must be all that Irish stuff.
Speaking of which, I know I wrote about this in years past, but for some reason St. Patrick’s Day always makes me think of culture, of heritage, of my own ancestors. Am I actually Irish? By marriage — which totally counts because had my mother and father-in-law been opposite genders — I would have a veryveryvery Irish last name, I am half-Irish. By blood, near as I can figure it, I am about 1/16 Irish. It’s sketchy though.
You see, I have two parents. One was born in the good ole USA, (my dad) and his family has been here since at least the 1700’s, possibly the 1600’s. And although his heritage includes many nationalities, Irish is not one of them. His family was firmly ensconced in rural Indiana by the time of the Irish wave of immigration. On my father’s side I have lots of Scottish and English blood (my maiden name is Scottish) but not a drop of Irish.
My other parent, the female one, was born in Italy and you would think she was Italian, right? Well, yes, but Europeans get around too, apparently. It turns out that this little, dark Italian great-grandmother of mine had an Irish father. Apparently at least one Irishman managed to get himself to Italy and father at least one child. I’ll go out on a limb and guess he wasn’t the only one, but that is really neither here nor there. This of course was before the time when Mussolini swooped in and made all Italians Italianize (not italicize) their names. I think there are Italians who emigrated pre-Mussolini who have non-Italian surnames. And I know this will sound weird, and I can’t believe I never mentioned this to anyone else before right now, but I might have taught a distant relative last year.
There was this little boy in my class who brought in some old family pictures during a unit on ancestry. Both of his parents came from Italian immigrant stock, both from the Philadelphia/New Jersey area. So I look at these photos and one of the family names was an anglo-saxon surname. The other was this Irish name a couple generations up my family tree. And as I looked at this picture, I saw three females who looked like my mother…one could have been her twin. Freaked me out. And I never said anything to anyone because it seems so strange.
Anyhoo…
That is that. I am slightly Irish by blood but not at all by upbringing. Unless you count what rubbed off on me from the plethora of Irish kids in my school and the Irish nuns who taught us. And I am culturally Irish by marriage, except that, despite my mother-in-law’s wearing her Irish on her sleeve, my husband has always embraced his Italian side and not his Irish side.
It’s complicated sorting all this stuff out.
Just ask Obama.
Morning Fog 
I just want to say that every time I click on your site, I desperately want to paint my house pink. (I actually already have a strawberry-watermelony hot pink front door, covered with milagros, but I realise it needs to be surrounded by orchid pink, not the peachy-terracotta it currently is.) Alas, I don’t think even my patient and long-suffering husband would go along with that idea, though. It’s apparently emasculating enough for him to drive my car with its hot pink girly licence plates, he tells me! Love, R xxx
So over all, are you happy as a teacher? Do you feel like the benefits outweigh the not so great parts?
I could never be a teacher, I just don’t have the patience. I think all teachers earn their paychecks plus some. But of course that’s not reflected in the actual pay.
Congratulations on getting the new job!
Hehehe to the Irish background. I don’t have a clue of my ancestry on my mom’s side – I know there’s a little Irish, a little American Indian (VERY little of that by this generation,) and God knows what else.
On my dad’s side, I am predominantly German. As in, my paternal grandmother’s family immigrated from Germany. I’m less clear on his dad’s ancestry. My sis is doing a family tree and our information there’s been limited.
As to working on your day “off,” I hear you there, too. Today was my solitary day off work this week and I’ve been working at home all day long!