Pirate Queen sent this to me the other day via email. Who she got it from, I don’t know, but it cracked me up. Maybe all teacher applications should read like this. Then we’d know what we’re getting into. You fellow teachers will relate to these daily duties. I, thankfully, don’t have to be part of “lice duty.” Instead, I get to be the cell phone/iPod/etc. police and an informant for all instances of swearing (which Freshmen are fluent in). And, as you know, schools use whiteboards now, though I do most of my instruction on an overhead (thus gaining a check mark for “making use of technology” on my evaluation forms) because all but two of the teachers whose rooms I borrow have their own lessons on their board. “A few books” brought to mind the fact we English teachers here work with a classroom set of books. It might save on money, but it’s awfully hard for any student to make up the reading and related work when he can’t take a book home. A bigger problem when you think that we roaming teachers have to carry that classroom set around with us from room to room. That’s fine for a box of novels, but I hate to think what might happen if I plan on using those literature anthologies again. “Please take your book and follow me to room 200A where you will deposit said book outside the doorway so the next class can pick one up as they go in. Thank you.” The current German teacher, when he was asked personally to come build (become) the German department, demanded that each student have his or her own book or he wouldn’t take the position. Also, I don’t know if I exactly qualify for food stamps because of my level of certification (more expensive to hire, but more qualified for certain courses as some require a master’s degree to teach), but you get the idea. Wonder what some of your own job applications would look like, dear readers, if you ended up writing them?

And the simple but nice message at the end: Don’t forget to pray. : )

Here you go:

After being interviewed by the school administration, the prospective teacher said:

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You want me to go into that room with all those kids, correct their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of abuse, monitor their dress habits, censor their T-shirt messages, and instill in them a love for learning.

You want me to check their backpacks for weapons, wage war on drugs and sexually transmitted diseases, and raise their sense of self esteem and personal pride.

You want me to teach them patriotism and good citizenship, sportsmanship and fair play, and how to register to vote, balance a checkbook, and apply for a job.

You want me to check their heads for lice, recognize signs of antisocial behavior, and make sure that they all pass the final exams.

You also want me to provide them with an equal education regardless of their handicaps and communicate regularly with their parents in English, Spanish or any other language by letter, telephone, newsletter, and report card.

You want me to do all this with a piece of chalk, a blackboard, a bulletin board, a few books, a big smile, and a starting salary that qualifies me for food stamps. You want me to do all this and then you tell me. . . I can’t pray?”

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