March Blues

Tuesday, April 4, 1995

We are three days away from spring break (if you don't count today, which at one-forty-three is pretty much over for me). We are all exhausted. This is what is commonly called the "March Blues," only it’s April now so it’s even worse.

The staff looks and acts like the living dead. WASC, March, and the end of the term have taken their toll. Even those like me, instantly and momentarily revitalized by The Miracle Worker yesterday and the miraculous Edney-less victory of my beloved Bruins last night for the NCAA title, are dragging. I know I have bags under my eyes. The last few nights have been late ones, working on edits on English Nine papers, working on worksheets from What Color is Your Parachute (the career-change classic by Bolles recommended by Lisa's friend Sandy--the woman who went through the teacher credential program but not into the classroom), and the time-change-induced restlessness.

It's the same on other campuses, as well. Lisa, who teaches a block away from Chumash at one of our feeder junior high schools, is even more tired than I. She's been working extra hard these past few weeks, in-servicing teachers in her district (hers is an elementary school district) on how to grade their proficiency tests holistically. Their union has been griping over this grading, even though it is during a workday on which the teachers will see no students. So Lisa's been having to fight lethargic teachers and vehement union reps. The days off for the grading-training take her out of the classroom, so she must prepare not only for the training, but for the substitute who replaces her for the individual days as well. And then, of course, she checks on her class after the training. Selected for her experience and expertise in testing and writing, Lisa had been thrilled to do this in-servicing, but now it is becoming clear that this is more work that it is worth (which is little to the district... a non-paying position). And all this is on top of her normal classwork, long-term writing projects coming in and grades about to go out.

One of her classes receiving grades is her student government course. This is her last year of advising student government, after a five-year stint. She's been incredibly successful with her students (but we'll probably only see this in the next few years, when her kids go into the new, revamped student government class here at C.H.S.; the old, retiring teacher has been coasting now for over fifteen years [when both Lisa and I were in student government] and the new guy's vowed to overhaul the system). Kyle is one reason that she's giving it all up... for much the same purpose I gave up Drama. We feel like there is so very little time. Even though I was receiving a stipend for Drama (it worked out to less than a dollar an hour when the hours were tallied), it was too much time away. For Lisa, it's the exact same problem, but on top of everything else, she receives no extra pay for the duty (she fought for and received an extra resource period for phone calls and activity set-ups, but there is still no financial recompense).

She has always had doubts about the true lessons and worth of student government, but this year an incident occurred that cemented the idea of giving it up for a while. She caught her students stealing from the student store's candy inventory. It hurt her, even more than it hurt the students (who were compelled to call their parents to tell them what they had done, who were restricted from school functions from the rest of the year, and who will receive D's in student government for this quarter). This betrayal of the program, ethical behavior, and Lisa, was the last straw for her. And this week she has to give those D's.

Combine all this stress with her grandfather's illness, her uncle's impending visit, Kyle's neediness (as he enters a new separation anxiety period), and she cannot wait for spring break.

If only we could be assured it would be relaxing.

[POST-SCRIPT: I was in bed by eight-forty tonight.]