My birthday was at the beginning of February. Papí went all out and got us this pretty, historic hotel on one of the squares in Savannah for the weekend. And, it actually allowed dogs. Aside from rental houses, the only places we were ever able to bring Lola was La Quintas and Motel 6. I genuinely thought these people might be crazy to let any size dog into their place with all this antique furniture, but jumped at the idea. They even invited her to their afternoon wine receptions. I bought her a cute robe so that she would look like a fancy lady in her fancy hotel.
I walked through the house, doing one last check before we took off. The car was packed and Temple and Alec were outside, waiting. I looked at the box of Lola's ashes. I thought of how she pushed her chin so hard on my hand while she died in the same room I was standing in. I touched the box and realized that this time, Lola wasn't going with us. We were leaving her behind.
Being back at work after our weekend was a rude awakening. I've been testing non-stop. Testing can be boring, but this test is the one that's used to basically evaluate me and it's difficult to administer. I feel tired. I finished most of it, just in time for a teacher work day, followed by a three-day weekend.
Yesterday morning, I sat with the rest of the "specials" teachers, as instructed, while the grade level teachers began a training about teaching math. None of us sat down with the other groups during the training, because none of us teach math. I was surprised when one of my bosses walked by and stated: "You need to get with a grade". Her tone was one you might use with a child that was deliberately out of his assigned seat. I was being chastised. She then dismissed the rest of the "specials" teachers to do whatever they needed to do. I was embarrassed and honestly, angry. I don't like being talked to that way. How the fuck was I supposed to know that they wanted me in that training? It was as though I was knowingly avoiding doing something I was supposed to do. Which is the opposite of what I do at work. I do a million things that are not part of my job. I interpret whole meetings, translate documents, teach phonics and reading before school actually starts...I hate it when teachers talk like this, but I do it because I care. I do it when I notice that their grade level, content-area teachers are going to let them slip through the cracks. There is a short window where children can gain reading proficiency. If they don't do it by a certain age, there can be lifelong repercussions. I've worked with a lot of people that don't give a shit, so I have gone way outside of my teaching lane because again, I care. I was angry at the implication that I was avoiding my job.
"Don't you teach ELA?" one asked.
"I don't teach content. I teach the language that allows English learners to understand the content." I answered, pissed off that I am still explaining my whole job to whole teachers, and bosses. I am so tired of this willful ignorance of what ESOL is. I don't teach multiplication. I teach kids what the word multiplication is so that the content-area teachers can teach them HOW to multiply. But here I was, sitting in a training about how to teach small group math. I am not even in the classroom when math is taught.
