Appropriate Attire

“[T]he bicycle will accomplish more for women's sensible dress than all the reform movements that have ever been waged.”

Author Unknown, from Demerarest's Family Magazine, 1895

At about 5:35AM my phone sounded, and I was asked to report to the same job as I did last week. On Friday, I had briefly thought of setting up plans for the substitute on Monday, and now that I was that sub, I wished that I had. I didn’t know if I’d even have the same students. How did this block schedule work, anyway?

Happy that I knew exactly where to go this time, I hopped on my bicycle at 7:30AM. After making a turn onto Broadway, I realized that I had a problem. My purple dress with the elastic bottom that normally reached my knees was riding up at an alarming rate. I asked myself, why didn't I wear leggings or tights? Then I reminded myself that it was forecasted to be eighty-degrees. I stood while pedaling and used my right hand to push the dress back into place while trying to steer with my left (and not veer into traffic), but soon it made it’s way up again. The high school is on Broadway, and many students walk to school on this street. What if a student recognized me in what was now turning into a micro-mini? Constant tugging at my dress slowed me down, prolonging the distress. During my mortifying ride, I comforted myself that though it wasn’t funny at the moment; it might a funny story for my blog. The end of the trip was downhill, so I kept my knees together until I landed at the first bicycle stand I could find, and then headed to class.

No lesson plans left for me this time, but I quickly set everything up for the students to continue where they had left off. Two teachers and two deans stopped in to make sure I was prepared. I was happy to hear that a new teacher had been hired. Hopefully the students wouldn’t turn on for having to do another boring assignment if they had the prospect of an extended term substitute on the way (The day actually went well). One dean seemed happy with me, and said he’d keep me in mind if any Social Studies Sub jobs opened.

Then the announcements began, telling us that the fire drill (what?), which was scheduled for the morning had been moved to the afternoon. I found out the procedure from a nearby teacher, and read the instructions about where to bring the students, which meant meandering through the school's maze (luckily the room is in a stairwell) and crossing the street. Great. I was hoping it would occur when I didn’t have a class. I planned to take my bicycle home when I had a break (and when there would be less witnesses on the road), and return to the school with the car. But the fire drill happened fourth-period, and involved fifteen-minutes of teachers periodically saying, "Stay on the sidewalk," as we walked, and then waited two blocks away from the school. Out in the heat, I was glad to be wearing a dress without tights.

I learned a valuable lesson today. In my first blog entry, I had written that I had three clothing options for each day. Although I had ridden my bicycle to work before, I’d never worn an inappropriate riding outfit until today. Now, I have to make sure that if I plan to use my bicycle, I should refrain from flashing, so I’ll wear pants.

Roles

"If divorce has increased by one thousand percent, don't blame the women's movement. Blame the obsolete sex roles on which our marriages were based."

Betty Friedan, Speech, New York City, January 20, 1974

Ironing is one of my least favorite tasks – I’d rather clean the toilet bowl. Before my husband got his new job, his clothing didn’t need to be ironed because he was the most fashionable one at any lab he worked at, since he didn’t wear socks with Birkenstocks. But now he needs to look more professional. I hope he knows that each garment I grudgingly iron is done with love.

While I was ironing this afternoon, I remembered that ironing was my mother’s first “job” while she was a stay-at-home mom. She got ten cents for each of my uncle’s shirts. Before she became pregnant with me, she worked at an insurance company. When I was young, all my cousins’ and friends’ moms didn’t work outside the home, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. One time, I do remember thinking it was odd that my mother used my father’s money to get him a present. Even then, I was aware that she didn’t truly have her own money.

When Scholastic had a book sale at my school, I bought a book that transformed my idea of family. I remember picking a book called, Hello Aurora by Anna Catharina Vestley. In it, Aurora’s father is a stay-at-home dad, while her mother works outside the home. The dad was getting his Ph.D. in Philosophy, so he’d use ideas from philosophers to help Aurora with her problems. That book opened my eyes – no longer was it a given that the dad worked, while the mother stayed home.

Soon after, something changed between husbands and wives in the 1980s. Several of my aunts and uncles divorced, as did my two best friends’ parents. I should’ve suspected when two of my aunts went back to school – an education became their tickets to freedom. Those who didn’t have an education struggled to reenter the workforce with little skills to offer. When I was a teenager, I decided that I’d always work, so I’d never be trapped.

I’ve virtually always worked since I was sixteen. And for the first couple of years of our marriage, I made a lot more money than my (at the time) graduate student husband. When I became a graduate student too, my stipend and part-time job made us about equal in pay. But since I’ve had children, I’ve earned less income, and since he got a new job last year, I’ve earned A LOT less.

One of the nice parts of our relationship is our equal distribution of responsibilities. When he’s worked more out of the house, I’ve done more inside the house, and if I’ve worked more, he’s done more. When I was student teaching, my husband took my son one day each weekend so I could write lesson plans. My husband spends a lot of time with the kids, and when I work in the morning, he takes them to the bus stop. He also does all the food shopping because he enjoys it more than me, plus he thinks the supermarket he shops at is cheaper than the one I go to. He also cooks the occasional dinner on the weekends. Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, which was something I didn’t understand as a child.

I see marriage differently now. Roles aren’t as clearly defined as when I was young. Less people feel trapped (Maybe that’s why the divorce rate is so high). I also see what is considered worthwhile work in a new way. There’s worth in working outside the home, just as there’s worth in the drudgery of housework and shuttling children to their activities. There’s even worth in ironing, though hopefully when I’m working full-time, I’ll have to do less of it.

First Job

“I just got lost

Every river that I tried to cross

And every door I ever tried was locked”

Guy Rupert Berryman, Jonathan Mark Buckland, Will Champion, and Christopher A.J. Martin. Song, “Lost” by Coldplay.

When I returned home from my children’s Taekwondo, there was a message waiting for me that I had a job the following day (hooray!) at the high school for Biology. It was a relief to know what I’d be doing the next day and I had confidence (from previous experience) that high school students would be easier to manage than middle school ones. But Biology is not my forte. I put it down as one of the classes I would sub because I could follow along in a textbook, but my husband is the scientist, so he would be a better Biology substitute.

I got to the school fifteen minutes before the bell because I like to be prepared. The buildings were built when architects made monstrosities out of concrete. Inside, is a labyrinth that much reminds me of many State University of New York structures. My classroom was hidden in a stairwell, and once I found it, the door was locked. I was advised to go to two different offices to get the door unlocked, only to be told to slip in through a neighboring door and get it unlocked by another teacher. By the time I got back to my room, the door was magically unlocked with students inside and the bell had already sounded. So much for being early.

A student advised me that the teacher was coming back from maternity leave on Monday (found out later, not true – she just had a baby), and I noticed there were plans left for me for the two Biology classes, but not the Ecology class. A neighboring teacher offered to help me get something together for that class, though since I took an Ecology class in college, at least felt a little more confident in the material.

The first and fourth period students were quiet, and mostly worked on the assignment – read the textbook and answer questions. The students in second period Ecology were a little more talkative and requested more bathroom breaks, but they did work. They had the kind of babysitter assignment that can go well or poorly, depending on the group – especially with a block schedule, so you have those students a looong time. It certainly made me feel more like a babysitter than a teacher. But it was a high school gig, showing I could handle older kids and it was something that would get me a paycheck.

At my previous job, I was used to there not always being a moment of silence when the planes hit or the Twin Towers fell, so I used to commemorate the day by reading, Fireboat by Maira Kalman, and then discussing my memories of living in New York on that day. By last year, the students had been toddlers when the planes hit, but a couple still had relatives who were connected in some way or I was giving them their first detailed information about the event. Often, a few of us would shed tears. I figured that the book wouldn’t work in high school, and wasn't appropriate for Science classes where I didn't know the students. Today, the school waited to acknowledge the day until five minutes before the dismissal bell. Some of the students called the moment of silence lame because it was too short, and began to discuss the planes crashing on their own as they left. Tonight, I’ll read and discuss the book with my classroom of two, to make sure the day continues to mean something to them.

I fear that for many, the significance of September 11th has already been lost.

Why blog?

“He's a really useful engine, you know

All the other engines they'll tell you so”

Mike O'Donnell & Junior Cambell. Song, "He's a Really Useful Engine" from, Thomas the Tank Engine Theme.

I spent part of yesterday and this morning, trying to get my blog to come up on a search engine. Since google has the largest share of the search market, and since blogspot is connected to google, I’ve spending most of my time trying to get my blog on their search engine. It could take up to seventy-two hours, so I may not know for a few days whether or not anything I’ve done has worked. I’m only partially computer-savvy.

All this effort in writing the blog and trying to have people find it has made me wonder why I am doing this. I originally thought that the stories generated from subbing would be amusing to record. But since I’m on my fifth blog, but have not yet subbed, I have to think whether this is meant to be something more. For anyone who has spent a significant amount of time home, either from being unemployed or having a child, knows that there’s a transition. When one works in an office or a school, s/he is connected to other people, but when one is home, it can be isolating. I think my main goal with my blog is to reach out to other people.

Are there other ways to relate other than blogging? Of course. I speak with family and friends on the phone, but I find that when I’m depressed or frustrated, I withdraw rather than call. There’s facebook, but I’m not going to post, “Not working today,” everyday.

The bigger question is whom do I want to reach? The first day I put my first blog entry, I e-mail about five family members and friends. I thought about sending it to my e-mail list or share it with my facebook friends, but hesitated. Often, it’s easier to share with strangers than people I know. When I first began writing, I found myself squirming when my husband read my first manuscript, but when I got a manuscript exchange partner I hardly knew I found that easier. Now, I let almost anyone who asks read my manuscripts because the only way to become a better writer is to take critique. But writing to get published and having a blog are not exactly the same, or are they?

My teaching and writing are related, for in both instances I want to communicate with people. I have ideas, emotions, impressions, concerns, and connections that I want to share. The days I don’t work and each day that a rejection letter comes for a manuscript is a day that I can’t do what I’m good at. I can’t do what makes me, me.

So, here’s my blog. Hopefully there are people who are teachers, unemployed, stay-at-home parents, writers, or just anyone who sometimes feels isolated, who can relate. As for facebook, I snuck the info in my profile, figuring if anyone bothers to read my profile, maybe they'll want to know a little more about me.

Fringe Benefits

"He may live without books - what is knowledge but grieving?

He may live without hope - what is hope but deceiving?

He may live without love - what is passion but pining?

But where is the man who can live without dining?"

Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Just before it was time for my husband to leave for work, and when it was already clear I wasn’t working, as I had received no call and was wearing my casual clothes, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, snuggling with my daughter.

“I wish you could stay home with me today,” I said to her.

“I wish I could stay home too,” she replied. “I’d snuggle with you all day.”

“Nobody should be wishing for that,” my husband asserted. Then he added something like, “You should be wishing for work.”

My daughter and I didn’t really want to stay home and snuggle together, but it’s just a sweet thing to say to one another. I’m sure my husband knew that too. But my lack of a full-time job and inconsistent work schedule has caused tension between us for months. Like many couples, money (or lack thereof) has fueled most of the arguments we’ve had over the years.

When I decided to leave my teaching assistant last winter, I became depressed. I’d miss the school; its familiarity, the teachers and staff that I’d worked with since 2003, and most of all, the students. By the time I resigned, I’d just finished the factors leading to the American Revolution (that I wouldn’t get to teach) in Social Studies and had planned a spelling bee (that I’d never get to implement) in Word Study. The students in this class had impacted me like no other group, and I was sad to leave them. When I told the kids, they seemed nearly as sad to lose me, and they went through a lot of trouble to say goodbye, with poetry, singing, cards, food, and gifts. From the time I pondered the decision to leave until weeks after I did, I was in a state of melancholy.

Once I started subbing, I don’t know if my attitude improved much because my schedule was erratic. Until mid-May, I only worked one to three days a week, and unless I worked at least three days, I wasn’t even bringing home the paychecks I had as an assistant. My husband didn’t understand how I didn’t appreciate that I had off, since he was stuck working (and supporting the family), while I didn’t understand how he wasn’t more sympathetic to my situation.

After enduring one of the lowest periods in our marriage, we found our way out of it in the last couple of months. But the fact that I haven’t procured a full-time job (or even a book deal) is still a point of contention. One perk I look forward to - since he works in the same city we live in, I can meet him for lunch once in a while. There’s something about eating together and talking that connects people.

I know that even though I didn’t like the way my husband originally put it, he’s right. I have to appreciate the time I have off. At a children’s writers’ conference I attended last year, the author, Laura Halse Anderson, encouraged writers to spend time nourishing the soul. So I will make sure to use my free time for yoga, bike riding, reading, and writing, as well as chores and errands. And the occasional lunch with my husband.

Uncertainty

“Each class preaches the importance of those virtues it need not exercise. The rich harp on the value of thrift, the idle grow eloquent over the dignity of labor.” Oscar Wilde

This morning, following a fitful sleep, I awoke upon hearing my alarm sound at 5:25AM. After blinking slumber from my eyes for a couple of minutes, I arose, turned on the coffeemaker, and did sit ups while waiting for the coffee to brew. Next, I checked e-mail and facebook, while drinking coffee, and then decided to get ready for…. what? I brought the phone in the bathroom, just in case.

My children’s morning was no less certain. Although my son got his fourth-grade teacher, whom he loves, again for fifth-grade, he knew that his best friend was in the other fifth-grade classroom, and his other good friend had gone to private school. My daughter was going to have to endure her first day of second-grade knowing that all four of her female friends were in the other second-grade classroom. (I won’t get into how annoyed I am at their school at the moment). So I was glad to be able to accompany them on such a precarious morning, even if the guilt for not getting paid for a day’s work was already eating away at me.

As I alluded to in an earlier post, I often use this time to write. But it feels frustrating to pour my heart and soul into something that nobody else may read and that I don’t get paid to do. The other option (and often done in conjunction with writing) is chores. As usual, I have a mountain of them! So the day will be spent doing dishes, making spaghetti and meatballs, ironing nine of my husband’s shirts and pants, folding laundry, and running errands. After school, I’ll take the children to the playground at school, and then Taekwondo. When we get home, we’ll scramble to do homework, eat dinner, and take care of other things to finish the evening, and prepare for the day ahead.

By tomorrow morning, my children should have a better idea of what to expect from their day. For me, I’m not so sure. But whatever my day becomes, I hope I can fill it with purpose.

Dress for Success

“Know first who you are; and then adorn yourself accordingly." - Euripides

Last night I didn't sleep as well as I should have. Although my family planned to spend the day in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, which would be a great way to enjoy Labor Day, I knew the evening would be spent getting the children and me ready for school. This year, I've decided to set my alarm for 5:25AM, so the sub line never awakens me.

It's near 9:00PM, so I'm sure if I do get phoned, it won't be until morning. I assume most teachers don't call in sick the first day, unless Cambridge has recently been badly hit by swine flu. The only other reason I'd be called, is if there's a position that one of the schools hasn't yet filled. Although I'd be happy to begin earning money again, it would admittedly be easier if I could take my children to school for their first day.

I've always laid out my clothes for the next day when I've worked. When I became a substitute on March 11, 2009, this routine became trickier. If I didn't have a call by evening, then there was no guarantee that I'd be working, so in addition to my work outfit, I also picked casual clothing. If no call came by the time I came out of the shower, I put on jeans and shirt.

Then on March 27, 2009, the selection of clothing became even thornier - I got a call to teach Physical Education. That day, I decided to with my casual outfit, and learned two lessons; jeans are not comfortable to teach gym and real sneakers are required. When I was called for Phys Ed again on April 8, 2009, I wore yoga pants (since I don't own sweatpants) and proper sneakers that I purchased five years ago. If I hadn't become a Substitute, those sneakers would've disintegrated before they were ever worn. Finally, on May 8, 2009, I also realized that I need a whistle. It's too hard to speak over screaming kids and bouncing balls.

So now, I have my work outfit, casual outfit, yoga pants, three pairs of shoes, and a whistle. Who said to dress for the job you want and not the job you have? That person obviously wasn't talking about being a Gym sub.