Ended another busy week with a request on my part to my boss about writing a dance program proposal for the school. You see, in my mind, it just made more sense to try and get hired at the school I’m currently employed at. Sure, I’m only a Resident Teacher signed up for 10 months (Plus a separate contract working at their summer camp). But I had this impossible hope that somehow my skills would be recognized and snatched up right away. The verdict? As high a priority dance education is for the school, their current focus is on raising the salaries of their teachers. The board has spoken: Give the teachers a raise. That’s a tough thing to argue against…what was I suppose to say? C’mon, you need new programs not higher salaries! The school has no real need to further create and develop a dance program; they’re currently the hottest private elementary in town. I braved the rest of my sit-down with my boss and smiled until my mouth hurt. I was so disappointed, I really was. Then, wouldn’t you know, it started to rain on my six block trek to the bus stop. And OK, so I cried on the bus ride home. I lay around feeling useless and sad…why, because I don’t have a career path and I don’t have enough money for extra schooling and I don’t know if I should return to retail or continue the Teacher Crusade of ups and downs and my current school is breaking up with me. After a few days I started reconciling with myself, the way you do when you’re ending a relationship. Before sitting down with my boss I was in complete denial about the inevitable end in three months. After the “Sorry, no room” talk, I went through the anger: Fine, I don’t need you, stupid school, if you can’t realize how great I am then it’s YOUR loss! Then I went through a depression…wait, I’m still kind of there.
You see, everyone wants to live and work in Seattle…especially artists. We flock to the NW because the dark weather fuels our craft. A lot of artists are teachers and a lot of teachers here are young and trying to find work. But the public schools are locked in a hiring freeze and the private sector is swelling with experience. To gain any cred teachers who are starting out are flung into Teaching Assistant positions, part-time tutoring, and special needs classes. This is all fine and good…but, many new teachers are bitter, having been told that the Baby Boomers are retiring soon and we desperately want to fill their shoes. I report this not necessarily as my own but as what I’ve been hearing from the “lifers,” the Residents who are dead set on teaching being their profession. All of them are under 33, recently graduated from Masters programs in teaching (and $20,000 in debt), or at least hold a teaching certification. They are bitter, bitter, bitter right now because none of us, not ONE, were considered for any of the following year’s open teaching positions. This doesn’t really affect me, I made my dance program pitch and failed, but it DOES affect my co-workers who, like me, are temporary. Collectively, we are breaking up with the school, and some of us are taking it hard. Unlike many of them, I do not consider teaching my life’s calling. If I could do anything I wanted and get paid for it I would rather be a playwright, a choreographer, or a performer. Because I can’t get paid a decent wage (or any wage at all) for any of the above, I’ve resorted to teaching (although I did have stints with importing cars, making coffee, office work, waiting tables, and retail). Teaching found me by accident, and now, like a coy mistress it’s playing with me.