Monday, April 13, 2009: I came in and looked for my name on the teacher sign-in sheet. I didn’t see it. The secretary told me it won’t be there for two weeks, until I’m officially past probation and on full time staff. I thanked her and asked what class I was supposed to be in. Nobody knew, so the director was called up. I was put into one of the preschool rooms and told my schedule would be 8:30am - 4:30pm Monday through Friday.
While on my lunch hour, the financial director asked me if I’d signed in today. I told her “no, I was told I didn’t have to because my name won’t be on the schedule for two weeks.”
The financial director snapped at me, “Who told you that!?” I told her it was the secretary. The financial director snapped that she didn’t believe me for a second, that the secretary would never say that, that everyone has to sign in and be accounted for, for legal purposes. She told me to follow her to the teacher’s lounge, where we found the secretary.
The financial director asked her, “Did you tell her she didn’t have to sign in?”
The secretary replied, “No, I told her that her name wouldn’t be on the list for two weeks. She still has to sign in!”
Then they both looked at me. The financial director gave an impatient look. I apologised to the secretary, and told her I’d misunderstood. I went back to the office and wrote my name on the roster to sign in. I was then told I’d need to fill out a timecard every day. The secretary showed me where the timecards were and how to fill it out, and where to store it each day.
I then asked where I could keep my bicycle if I were to bike to work each day, and the secretary showed me.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009: My first day bicycling to work! I can’t remember what exactly happened on Tuesday, but I did catch more shit from the financial director and some assistant teachers. I went to the school director at the end of the day, thanked her for the class I got to attend last week, and said that while it taught me the materials and such for this type of school, I really didn’t get any training on the policies and procedures of my day to day at the school.
She asked me to clarify. I told her that I just felt like I was being scolded for doing things incorrectly, things I didn’t know I was doing wrong because I’ve not been told how to do them.
The school director snapped, WHO scolded you?!”
I told her I’m not here to name names, just that I’d like to learn policy and procedure, please. She retorted back that she can’t help me unless she knows what I’ve been being scolded for. Then she softened, and asked if I was seeking orientation.
“Yes”, I said, ““I’d like an orientation, please.”
She told me to write her a note and she’d get me orientation on Thursday or Friday.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009: I had my dehydration episode and had to end my shift an hour early. Because I’d ridden my bicycle to work, I needed to rest before riding home, lest I fall over or pass out. So I went to the teacher’s lounge and rested in the dark with sliding doors drawn. I had ice on my wrists and temples, and slowly drank water to cool down. As I was sitting back there (for about an hour), I suddenly heard the office Secretary and the Financial director talking somewhere between 15-30 feet away from me. I heard:
Financial director: “What’s she go by? Stephanie or Steph?”
Secretary: “Steph.”
Financial director: “Steph?”
(unintelligible)
Financial director: “I don’t like her.”
I about cried.
I forced myself to wait a few minutes longer, sitting there in the dark, trying to will myself to feel better. I waited til the chattering stopped and the women were back in their offices working. I hoped they’d left for the day. Then I slowly gathered up my things and left the building. I know for a fact that my sudden presence startled the two women as I walked past.
When my husband got home from work, I told him that if I get let go from one more job, I’ll be done working, because I just can’t take it anymore. I’m seriously demoralised. And if this bullshit isn’t enough, I still have my next menstrual cycle to get through, which is due on my two week anniversary, when I’m supposed to go full time. If they fire me for being out ill, it’ll bring up major PTSD and well, you know what I’ll be forced to do.
Thursday, April 16, 2009: I got to work on time like I do, signed in and got to the classroom.
At morning recess, one of the assistant teachers - Ms. Grouchy as I’ll call her - got on my case for the second day in a row for standing outside of the children’s woodchip area instead of inside of it. I tried to tell her that sometimes I stand outside and sometimes I stand inside, but she talked over me, saying I must ALWAYS stand inside of it, and always be right up near children climbing on the play structure, ready to catch them if they fall, because of liability. She added that the management comes out here, that they watch us. I took a breath and stepped inside the play area (as opposed to on the sidewalk just outside of the play area), and carried on with my supervising.
Ms. Grouchy came up to me a moment later and said she’d forgotten to tell me that when one teacher is in one area of the playground, you must be on the other end of the playground - at all times - to keep maximum coverage. She told me she’d go to the other end and I should stay right where I am.
This lady doesn’t make my day much easier, I tell ya, but I do not take her grouchiness personally, because she’s said on several occasions that she doesn’t know procedure, either, that she’s not been told, either. I see how the head teacher corrects her constantly or gives her a look when she’s not done something right. I know this woman is burnt out and feels insulted by all these young people treating her like she’s feeble-minded. I’m younger than her but I don’t think by much. In contrast, the head teacher is nearly 8 years my junior.
At lunch, I sat in the library tending to my nails instead of eating lunch with the secretary and the financial director in the teacher’s lounge like I had been doing all week.
When I did make it to the kitchen to prepare my lunch, the financial director was right on my heels, suddenly needing to educate me on how to sort recyclables. I nodded and listened and let her ramble at me in her condescending voice. She told me recyclables have to be brought up from the back playground to the front of the school. I asked her what she meant by ‘front’, as I did not remember seeing blue recycle cans out front. She grew impatient with me, told me OUT FRONT as if I’m retarded, sighed, and then said “Here, I’ll show you, come on.”
We walked out the front doors of the building and she showed me two three and a half foot tall square black cardboard containers labeled for recyclables. She rambled other stuff to me but I let it go in one ear and out the other, smiling and nodding and thanking her for her time. Then I went back in and finished preparing my lunch. I ate in blissful solitary silence in the teacher’s lounge for the last 25 minutes of my break.
There’s other stuff I’m constantly being reminded of or corrected on by various people (and in one case, a four year old child whose dream it is to be a teacher herself!), but it’s necessary and I need to hear it on repeat. It’s only my fourth day for chrissakes. So I thank anyone who takes time to remind me or educate me on stuff I’m struggling with.
My head teacher, her co-teacher, and most of the other assistants have been great. I really like them and get along with them. I think there’s potential for Ms. Grouchy to calm down, too.
The other new hire, who also works in the same room with me, is already showing signs of giving up. She’s got the impatient scowl going on. She’s vented to me a few times in private about all the lack of direction, about all the B.S. and one person telling you to do it one way, then being scolded and told to do it another. I hope I was able to talk her down a bit today. I told her I’d try to get us both official orientation with the director tomorrow, since the director was not available today (stuck in meetings all day, even as I was leaving for the day).
Like I’ve said before on all my other jobs, I want to hang in there to at least say I am confident that I gave it my all, that I tried, dammit.
But holy shit, I’m so not happy right now.