STRANGE REACTION....TO BE ME.
INTERLUDE: The work. (Institute: High School).
Twenty years ago, when the Institute was over, looking at the disgusting English teacher, who only taught me that he was a child abbuser whom I ought to have denounced for "touching" a 17-year-old child, I decided I would never be a teacher. A partner came out to my aid and mounted an incredible argument (thanks Jacobo). He choses a girl from each class last year, in COU F it was my turn. It was pretty disgusting the practical demonstration of how to put on a condom using a rubber band and my hand. He did not traumatize me, but I almost spit in his face.
5 years later I did the teaching practices in my own Institute, tutored by my admired professor of History: Francisco Rodríguez, Paco. I could not believe it. I worked at the same time and offered me the free signature, without giving a single class. I replied, "No, I'm not going to practice teaching, so I want to at least experience the experience of giving a couple of classes". I taught History of the Contemporary World to students aged 16-17. Of course, Paco used me as a throwing and motivating weapon. Jorge (Latin), another huge, approached me down the hall, pushing me to the exit door: "Catch, what are you doing ?, Let's go, I'll do you a favor." I did not go (later I had some wine with him).
After that I fought a lot, it cost almost life, literally. 2003-2006 was awful. In all respects: labor (bitch perfumery), family (as not), sentimental (beginning of great disappointment) and emotional (already medicated, but began strong attacks of anxiety: loss of knowledge and to the ground: one Of them I woke up with a very strong pain and the left half of the purple face of the hosts that my mother gave me). I worked as much as I could, clerk, waitress in several pubs and discos, model, whatever. I had to pay for the driver's license, save to pay for an academy of oppositions, and set off on the road away from home; The one that was already, in part, my house in property, and the house of my mother.
In 2006, and after too many deaths in my paternal family, commemorated by a meal organized by my godfather (I love you godfather, although I never told you, I was not taught to say those things, only to cry or to tremble, as you have seen) , I was very excited: my uncle Pepe brought me, from Barcelona, the only photo that is kept of my father with 18 years (1953) doing the Military Service in La Coruña. I was 26 years old and it was the first time I saw a full body photo of him. I knew because my arms and legs were so exaggeratedly long, and because I am the highest of the cousins. I stared at him. My uncle frowned at me. We both stumbled when we looked at each other: "It's beautiful, he was very handsome," I said. "It's for you," I will never forget that look. My partner then gave me a silver frame and that photograph never moves from the left side of my bed.
A few days later the telephone rang. Santa Apolonia College. A private boarding school in Santiago, my city. I had been writing the curriculum for 4 years before because we have to work to eat. I did not have a job, I had lost him because I was on medical leave for depression. I went to the interview, they selected me, and I accepted. History teacher. September 18, 2006. The beginning of my career, my profession. It was hard? No, strange as it may seem. Was the students conflicted? Yes. Is the march going to me? Yeah, otherwise I get bored. I loved. I love History, and I loved teaching it. The work did not go well at all my contract as an intern had an expiration date. When it was over, in the two toughest months of my life, I put myself to the test: to oppose public education. It was impossible. Impossible. It was the highest group of civil servants. No or yes?...
Yes, I was speechless, I did not fall from the chair because it had arms ... I had approved the oppositions with two months of study and at the first attempt. But I did not count on that. That other ... That shit that sank us all ... The fucking economic crisis that sank us all. They did not give me my job. I waited 7 years ("Seven years gone", Richie Sambora). The 19 of March of 2014, at the end. The telephone rang: Consellería de Educación. IES Fernando Esquío, Neda. I never cried so much of happiness. Every time I remember, I feel the same again. Now I'm feeling it. Now I have a smile on my face and I have tears. Until that moment I decided not to leave Spain, and I survived as best I could. Already totally estranged from my family and I alone, supported by my "vital family", and my adoptive family: my adoptive parents, those of Laura, a sister, not just a friend. That and various feelings that are hidden here are for another of these disordered chapters; As well as the enriching and magnificent experience in Neda and the friendship of my former pupils Moncho Carballeira and Manuel Tuimil (Mr. Tuimil), who has been very worried about me and I do not want him to. Even though I know he is going to do it because he can not avoid it. From there, my career in public education was dazzling. Two long and interim substitutions (work insured throughout the course eternally). And it shone just as brilliantly as the stars I saw when I bumped into it, the last course with the IES Illa de Ons, the stupas and dictators of its management team, and the group of teachers who made the wave of fear: except a companion, And this who is writing. I paid it at the price of gold. I replaced again to get out of there. I've been working this whole course. The first evaluation touched Ferrol, Good destination. IES Ricardo Carballo Calero. It looked like a process before being named interim again in January after a retirement. But the process begins now, and what I take forever in my heart are the companions, and especially 5 students of two elective courses last year. 5 very big people of 17 years. They know the appreciation that I have and I know they appreciate me. A lot. They do not have, for now, access to this blog; Nor will I post photos or videos of farewell as they are still minors. The case, and all this, comes to try to convey that I must be very tired of everything. Yesterday, a classmate from my new center told me that I had been very lucky to have been in a retirement vacancy as interim for the rest of the course. My usual response would have been a slight smile. Because that is not true. And suddenly, I was saying, in a rather rude tone of voice, to a woman in her 60s: "The truth is, no, I am an interim disguised as a substitute to run away from a place. The first one in list and counted on it. The truth is that there were 10 destinies that offered to me and I chose this one ". My companion looked at me reluctantly and returned to her work without saying anything. We were at a break. I left the teacher's room directly to the café to take my coffee, wondering what the hell had happened to me. I think I've grown tired of looking 10 years younger and being despised. That they think I am a hollow head and the titlesI had won on the lotery because I measure 1'70, weight 53 kilos, I wear a long brunette hair and I put myself in the typical topic of "brunette friend Barbie." A colleague of my own age and to whom I excel in experience and note of opposition is great. I do not. It's only been 2 weeks, they still do not know me. But by my physical appearance they despise me. If I'm cute, I'm stupid. If I look young, I'm even dumber. Well sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I have come to stay, and not to remain silent. And if I'm such a bad teacher: how did I pass an opposition in two months? , Why did my predecessor, with 40 years of experience, not solve to my students the doubts that never cease to shoot me?, It is time to value me a little bit, as they did in the Carballo Calero, where my own programming was Sent to the Xunta (the big bosses). This morning has happened another similar anecdote. I call them anecdotes because they will not go beyond that, I will not allow them to bitter my existence. But it's for another day. This is addictive, last night I only slept three hours, the rest of the night I spent writing this blog. I urgently need to go to bed, and I have a lot of work ahead of me during the weekend, which I will perform as the professional that I consider myself.
Thanks Laura for teaching me to take things more in your own way: "to pull one foot".
Vane for understanding today that the teachers have a lot of work outside the Institute.
Thank you godfather and Uncle Pepe for the support and the photo.
Thank you "Irish cousin" and do not be scared, or this is having an international success, or you are reading from Ireland Do not tell your father anything, do not worry him, I repeat: I'm fine.)
Thank you Fina Doce for all your advice and everything you've taught me about the profession. And for your friendship. We went through a lot together last year, especially you. I have come out with good, and I promise (trust my instinct, which you know that rarely fails) that you too.
Thanks to the faculty and students of IES FERNANDO ESQUÍO and RICARDO CARBALLO CALERO (I must exclude 1st of Bac and ask the karma to help them): 2ºB, you do not know how much I miss you.
Thanks Wentworth Miller for the "self-help videos". My intention as a teacher is always help. From what I've heard you saying, you pretend the same thing. Congratulations, you've made it. Ufff. This blog, to my surprise, is read in the US (could assume), Ireland, United Kingdom, Spain (I knew it), France, Germany, Poland, Romania and Filipinas. I'm open-mouthed. Thank you very much for the push. I know you do not even know I exist, you'll never know; But I will always be grateful to you: for myself, and for my students; Those 5 of 2º of Bac already received "psychological talks subliminal", the result: a boy (with a huge heart) of 17 years that did nothing, is in way to raise the whole course and to arrive in June to the university. I have now tools I have used are no longer hidden, they are here. The message arrives and is been transmitted.
Jo March. Teaching in the big city. Missing my sisters , specially my Beth, and Laurie.
Twenty years ago, when the Institute was over, looking at the disgusting English teacher, who only taught me that he was a child abbuser whom I ought to have denounced for "touching" a 17-year-old child, I decided I would never be a teacher. A partner came out to my aid and mounted an incredible argument (thanks Jacobo). He choses a girl from each class last year, in COU F it was my turn. It was pretty disgusting the practical demonstration of how to put on a condom using a rubber band and my hand. He did not traumatize me, but I almost spit in his face.
5 years later I did the teaching practices in my own Institute, tutored by my admired professor of History: Francisco Rodríguez, Paco. I could not believe it. I worked at the same time and offered me the free signature, without giving a single class. I replied, "No, I'm not going to practice teaching, so I want to at least experience the experience of giving a couple of classes". I taught History of the Contemporary World to students aged 16-17. Of course, Paco used me as a throwing and motivating weapon. Jorge (Latin), another huge, approached me down the hall, pushing me to the exit door: "Catch, what are you doing ?, Let's go, I'll do you a favor." I did not go (later I had some wine with him).
After that I fought a lot, it cost almost life, literally. 2003-2006 was awful. In all respects: labor (bitch perfumery), family (as not), sentimental (beginning of great disappointment) and emotional (already medicated, but began strong attacks of anxiety: loss of knowledge and to the ground: one Of them I woke up with a very strong pain and the left half of the purple face of the hosts that my mother gave me). I worked as much as I could, clerk, waitress in several pubs and discos, model, whatever. I had to pay for the driver's license, save to pay for an academy of oppositions, and set off on the road away from home; The one that was already, in part, my house in property, and the house of my mother.
In 2006, and after too many deaths in my paternal family, commemorated by a meal organized by my godfather (I love you godfather, although I never told you, I was not taught to say those things, only to cry or to tremble, as you have seen) , I was very excited: my uncle Pepe brought me, from Barcelona, the only photo that is kept of my father with 18 years (1953) doing the Military Service in La Coruña. I was 26 years old and it was the first time I saw a full body photo of him. I knew because my arms and legs were so exaggeratedly long, and because I am the highest of the cousins. I stared at him. My uncle frowned at me. We both stumbled when we looked at each other: "It's beautiful, he was very handsome," I said. "It's for you," I will never forget that look. My partner then gave me a silver frame and that photograph never moves from the left side of my bed.
A few days later the telephone rang. Santa Apolonia College. A private boarding school in Santiago, my city. I had been writing the curriculum for 4 years before because we have to work to eat. I did not have a job, I had lost him because I was on medical leave for depression. I went to the interview, they selected me, and I accepted. History teacher. September 18, 2006. The beginning of my career, my profession. It was hard? No, strange as it may seem. Was the students conflicted? Yes. Is the march going to me? Yeah, otherwise I get bored. I loved. I love History, and I loved teaching it. The work did not go well at all my contract as an intern had an expiration date. When it was over, in the two toughest months of my life, I put myself to the test: to oppose public education. It was impossible. Impossible. It was the highest group of civil servants. No or yes?...
Yes, I was speechless, I did not fall from the chair because it had arms ... I had approved the oppositions with two months of study and at the first attempt. But I did not count on that. That other ... That shit that sank us all ... The fucking economic crisis that sank us all. They did not give me my job. I waited 7 years ("Seven years gone", Richie Sambora). The 19 of March of 2014, at the end. The telephone rang: Consellería de Educación. IES Fernando Esquío, Neda. I never cried so much of happiness. Every time I remember, I feel the same again. Now I'm feeling it. Now I have a smile on my face and I have tears. Until that moment I decided not to leave Spain, and I survived as best I could. Already totally estranged from my family and I alone, supported by my "vital family", and my adoptive family: my adoptive parents, those of Laura, a sister, not just a friend. That and various feelings that are hidden here are for another of these disordered chapters; As well as the enriching and magnificent experience in Neda and the friendship of my former pupils Moncho Carballeira and Manuel Tuimil (Mr. Tuimil), who has been very worried about me and I do not want him to. Even though I know he is going to do it because he can not avoid it. From there, my career in public education was dazzling. Two long and interim substitutions (work insured throughout the course eternally). And it shone just as brilliantly as the stars I saw when I bumped into it, the last course with the IES Illa de Ons, the stupas and dictators of its management team, and the group of teachers who made the wave of fear: except a companion, And this who is writing. I paid it at the price of gold. I replaced again to get out of there. I've been working this whole course. The first evaluation touched Ferrol, Good destination. IES Ricardo Carballo Calero. It looked like a process before being named interim again in January after a retirement. But the process begins now, and what I take forever in my heart are the companions, and especially 5 students of two elective courses last year. 5 very big people of 17 years. They know the appreciation that I have and I know they appreciate me. A lot. They do not have, for now, access to this blog; Nor will I post photos or videos of farewell as they are still minors. The case, and all this, comes to try to convey that I must be very tired of everything. Yesterday, a classmate from my new center told me that I had been very lucky to have been in a retirement vacancy as interim for the rest of the course. My usual response would have been a slight smile. Because that is not true. And suddenly, I was saying, in a rather rude tone of voice, to a woman in her 60s: "The truth is, no, I am an interim disguised as a substitute to run away from a place. The first one in list and counted on it. The truth is that there were 10 destinies that offered to me and I chose this one ". My companion looked at me reluctantly and returned to her work without saying anything. We were at a break. I left the teacher's room directly to the café to take my coffee, wondering what the hell had happened to me. I think I've grown tired of looking 10 years younger and being despised. That they think I am a hollow head and the titlesI had won on the lotery because I measure 1'70, weight 53 kilos, I wear a long brunette hair and I put myself in the typical topic of "brunette friend Barbie." A colleague of my own age and to whom I excel in experience and note of opposition is great. I do not. It's only been 2 weeks, they still do not know me. But by my physical appearance they despise me. If I'm cute, I'm stupid. If I look young, I'm even dumber. Well sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I have come to stay, and not to remain silent. And if I'm such a bad teacher: how did I pass an opposition in two months? , Why did my predecessor, with 40 years of experience, not solve to my students the doubts that never cease to shoot me?, It is time to value me a little bit, as they did in the Carballo Calero, where my own programming was Sent to the Xunta (the big bosses). This morning has happened another similar anecdote. I call them anecdotes because they will not go beyond that, I will not allow them to bitter my existence. But it's for another day. This is addictive, last night I only slept three hours, the rest of the night I spent writing this blog. I urgently need to go to bed, and I have a lot of work ahead of me during the weekend, which I will perform as the professional that I consider myself.
Thanks Laura for teaching me to take things more in your own way: "to pull one foot".
Vane for understanding today that the teachers have a lot of work outside the Institute.
Thank you godfather and Uncle Pepe for the support and the photo.
Thank you "Irish cousin" and do not be scared, or this is having an international success, or you are reading from Ireland Do not tell your father anything, do not worry him, I repeat: I'm fine.)
Thank you Fina Doce for all your advice and everything you've taught me about the profession. And for your friendship. We went through a lot together last year, especially you. I have come out with good, and I promise (trust my instinct, which you know that rarely fails) that you too.
Thanks to the faculty and students of IES FERNANDO ESQUÍO and RICARDO CARBALLO CALERO (I must exclude 1st of Bac and ask the karma to help them): 2ºB, you do not know how much I miss you.
Thanks Wentworth Miller for the "self-help videos". My intention as a teacher is always help. From what I've heard you saying, you pretend the same thing. Congratulations, you've made it. Ufff. This blog, to my surprise, is read in the US (could assume), Ireland, United Kingdom, Spain (I knew it), France, Germany, Poland, Romania and Filipinas. I'm open-mouthed. Thank you very much for the push. I know you do not even know I exist, you'll never know; But I will always be grateful to you: for myself, and for my students; Those 5 of 2º of Bac already received "psychological talks subliminal", the result: a boy (with a huge heart) of 17 years that did nothing, is in way to raise the whole course and to arrive in June to the university. I have now tools I have used are no longer hidden, they are here. The message arrives and is been transmitted.
Jo March. Teaching in the big city. Missing my sisters , specially my Beth, and Laurie.
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