Hermes would be happy

For the past two weeks I've been dealing with the bureaucratic bullshit of the Chicago Public School district compounded on the less-than-efficient goings on at Teach for America.

Unfortunately I'm still not placed. Though I still believe the staff is working very hard to find placement, the days tick by as school draws nearer and nearer.

I've been on one interview, which actually was just me dropping off my resume an hour and a half away, and went the two different CPS buildings three different times. All fruitless. It's a lot of running around, being told I'm missing form X or document why-the-hell-am-I-doing-this. Today I was at the breaking point. I was physically shaken and almost broke down in tears. Most of my frustration stems from the fact that I'm supposed to be putting all of my energy into my kids, but instead I'm trying to navigate a system that just doesn't work.

As the minutes count down closer to my birthday, I've never felt so out of control. Yes, I'm 23, but I still feel like I'm a 12-year old with no direction or power. I feel like you should be required to take a test at each subsequent birthday checking to see if you are emotionally and mentally prepared to be the next age.

Surely I wouldn't have passed the 15-year old test.

I feel like the Edward of today is a lot like the Edward of ten years ago. Except this one can drink. And swear. And buy porn.

But I still can't rent a car -- some things never change.

FAQ

It's been how long since I last updated? Well, you know the process of moving in, boxes, air mattress, lack of internet. It's all a process.

I still don't have placement yet. Yes, I technically don't have a job. I'm going to go ahead and explain everything right here because everyone, EVERYONE, wants to know why I've been accepted to Teach for America but still don't have a school yet. So without further ado, here goes:

Chicago has a decentralized public school system, one of the few totally decentralized districts in the country. What this means is, is that in typical Teach for America (TFA from here on out) regions, the districts are centralized so there is one person that oversees all the vacancies in the district. This person tells TFA that there are X number of openings in the district. TFA then puts X people in these vacancies. In Chicago, there is a person who oversees the district, but it is up to the individual schools to choose which teachers they want for their positions. As such, the schools usually do not know what positions they have open until, typically, right before school starts (September 2nd). So what TFA is now doing is trying to organize the 50 or 60 kids without jobs on individual interviews with principals which, I'm assuming, is an arduous, time consuming task. I'm placing a lot of faith in them that they will get me on an interview and hired before school starts.

Frequently asked questions:
Are you guaranteed placement?
-Yes.

Are you getting paid?
-Not at the moment, but I am guaranteed a check as soon as everyone else gets a check.

Man, does that suck?
-Yes, a lot.

Can you just go find schools on your own?
-Not really. Only certain schools qualify to have a TFA person at it and I don't really know what they are.

Are you nervous, anxious?
-Extremely.

Do you at least know what grade/subject you're teaching?
-No. It could be anything from K-8 and any subject. It depends on the vacancies.

What are you doing with all your time?
-Exploring the city. It's not as fun as it sounds since all I really have on my mind is my lack of a job.

I hope this answers some of the burning questions you might have. I've been put through an emotional wringer throughout this process and talking about placement has been difficult. I hope to have some more positive news soon.

And...done!

It's the end.

Well, sort of the end.

I'm sitting in a classroom decorated with construction paper cutouts and grammar tips on butcher paper.  The desks are three inches too low for a grown human being and the whiteboard shows remnants of math, spelling and reading.

Five weeks later, it's all over.  The kids, the lessons, the nights spent awake, cursing what was left of my life.  Things eventually got more -- routine, not easier, but more familiar.  The people here are a mix of tenacious go-getters and slackers looking to pad their resume.  On weekends some went to the beach, some got drunk, some planned for the week ahead, but everyone took a little breather.

In the end, the kids were a handful, their mood changes on a whim but in the end as a teacher, you held their attention.  You commanded the room when required.

It's all just practice, though.  

Last night was the closing ceremony.  Hundreds of kids, dressed in matching shirts singing chants and clapping and cheering and yelling.  The room was filled with hundreds of thuderous voices.  It was like summer camp, but with vodka.

It's hard not to get wrapped up in the heightened emotion - the collective swelling of emotion.  It's all just beginning though, the road still lies ahead.