So, on Friday I went into Tiny Community College (hereafter known as TCC) to do some administrative stuff. Joe had sent me home after our interview on Monday with a packet of papers from the human resources department – a TON of papers, actually, that took me nearly an hour to fill out – and I wanted to bring them all back. I also had to provide my driver’s license and Social Security card to prove that I’m not an illegal alien (who’s dying to teach English – I thought that was kind of funny). I was going to just bring my passport, until I realized that the key to our bank box isn’t in my car anymore – it’s in Husband’s – so I went with the “one document each from columns A and B” option. Anyway, after delivering the forms, all properly signed and dated, an official copy of my transcripts and the legal citizenship documentation, I headed over to Joe’s office to pick up the texts for the classes I’ll be teaching.
I found Joe in his cubicle, furiously trying to get a bunch of loose ends tied up before he leaves for an unexpected trip to the midwest on Monday. He was tapping away at his computer, trying to get notices and forms out to all the people who would need them, finalizing the schedule for the term that starts next Monday (which is part of why I’m telling you all this in the first place – just bear with me) and making sure that he returned all his phone calls before his flight takes off on Monday afternoon. We sat and chatted for a bit, he told me about the orientation that will happen next Friday then turned to me and said:
“How would you feel about taking on another class?”
It turns out that he has a bunch of sections of “foundational” English that he’s got to find instructors for. Remember I told you that TCC doesn’t have any admissions standards? That if students hold a diploma or a GED, and can afford to pay for classes, they’re in? Well, as a result, a lot of students come to the school with less-than-stellar skills in English and math, so the college sets up classes for them to hone some of those skills before going on into the classes for which those skills will be required. The classes run for six weeks instead of eleven (or twelve, in this case – they take foundational English for six weeks and foundational math for the other six) and classes start a week from Monday.
I told Joe that I’d be more than happy to take on another class, and that the short notice doesn’t bother me in the least. The course dovetails very nicely with the others I’m teaching as far as scheduling goes – the Foundations class runs just ahead of the Public Speaking class – and doesn’t interfere with my ability to get the girls ready and on the bus in the morning. To say that Joe was relieved would be a bit of an understatement; as he walked me back to my car, he joyfully announced to at least two people we passed by that “one more hole is filled!!”
I’m really excited by all of this activity in the professional part of my life, though I’m trying to keep an even keel about it and approach with a fair dose of caution. Just this weekend, one of my Capital-G-Girlfriends wrote me an email in which she said that this “sounds like the perfect gig to keep you active while you wait for YOUR job.” That got me thinking…
What if this is MY job?