Subbing #3: An interesting day thanks to PARCC

Tusky Valley Middle School seems to be the place for me to substitute. Today I was supposed to be science, but instead covered tech classes while the tech teacher helped administer PARCC testing.

In this technology class, she has two classrooms, one being a computer lab. For most periods, students were working on building a car-like piece, aiming for low friction to see whose would roll the furthest. Two of the classes were to work int he computer lab on designs in a CAD like assignment, which was very cool to me.

I again had lunch duty and again the students in the tech classes would lose focus and were quite chatty, but there were no major incidents in this classroom. After the PARCC test was finished, though, I was moved to the science classroom that I was originally assigned.

Unfortunately, I got to spend the rest of the day (about two hours!) with the sixth graders who had just gotten out of the PARCC test. They were quite stir crazy and very unfocused. They were basically supposed to work on a project where they use various objects to try to create a visual of a healthy meal, but mostly bounced all over the classroom, rolled the one cart around,  talked loudly, teased each other, begged to turn Pandora on, and played hangman.

This end of the day really tested my patience and resolve and I did not manage the classroom well at all, but I felt that they had just spent some six hours taking a standardized test and they should be allowed to let off some steam. I basically tried to manage the chaos and keep them from destroying anything. I think it worked. Mostly.

Subbing #2: TVMS again

Today I got a 5:30 AM call to substitute in Art at Tusky Valley Middle School.

Today was slightly different than my previous experience two weeks ago. I was a bit surprised when the art teacher actually came in at one point during the day. She was in the building, but had other duties and meetings to attend to. I was used to teachers actually being sick or somewhere else, not nearby.

There were also no bells due to standardized testing. Once again, I got to have recess duty. Other than dealing with no bells, especially during the lunch, and my inability to chat with the other teachers, there were, again, few issues beyond chatty students.

Chapter three in my work history

During my first stint in college (1991 - 1994), part of my financial aid was called "work study." I honestly still have no idea how that was or is supposed to work, and I did not take a job during my freshman year.

My sophomore year, feeling guilty and broke and desperate for money to spend, I found a job working as a file clerk in the Alumni Relations office. I basically had the pleasure of putting any clippings or correspondence or miscellaneous other papers into associated files created for each and every alumnus of the College, whether graduated or not.

The filing task was quite boring and was my entire job (that I recall). I did, though, enjoy reading some of the clippings and other things that I found in the files, digging through these files:

• I got to see some of the famous people who went to Wooster
• A copy of an essay or article explaining how religion and science don't have to be at odds over everything.
• Information related to the Scopes Monkey trial.
• A file for the ex-wife of a business owner from my home area.
• Rather large files for some people of the more proliferate people and business leaders.

I enjoyed digging through this information and learning some history. Unfortunately, after one all-nighter to get a paper of some sort done, I fell asleep at work and was woken by my boss. That was excused, but I later decided to end my employment on my own.

Scared but happier

My boss called me Sunday and told that Saturday, Valentine's Day, was to be considered my last day.  I asked about covering the Sunday rotations, especially since I was supposed to cover for a colleague next Sunday, but he said that colleague will have to work instead.

I went in today to grab the rest of my stuff (I had already brought some stuff home) and said a few good-byes. It was kind of weird and I had some mixed emotions (actually since the phone call Sunday and since officially turning in my notice on Thursday). It was also freeing though.

Now things get serious.

Second job

My first job was when I was fourteen. I did not hold a job again for three years. I tried to go back to German Village the next summer, I think, but Jerry was fully staffed.

I think. I honestly don't remember right now.

At any rate, the place where Mom worked for four years or so was looking for a part-time file clerk in Accounts Payable. Mom worked in Payroll, which was actually a single office in the same room as the Accounts Payable department. This department was housed with Engineering on a floor above  one of two plants on campus where they manufactured garage doors. 

The job opening was listed during soccer season. Actually, I was probably told about it by Mom. I needed an income to have something to spend and perhaps to save toward something. Mostly to have money to spend on my car, on magazines, music, and clothes, and if I ever start dating*.

So here was my first real interview and dealing with being considered among other applicants for a single position. And I was thrilled to be considered for this position. I thought it was a pretty big deal to work for a national company dealing — however lowly — with financial things.

I got the job, obviously, or I wouldn't be writing about it like this. The problem was that they wanted me to start right away. Soccer wasn't over yet. 

Backstory: I am a 17-year-old junior at this time. I was on the junior varsity for the third time, but I was getting a lot more playing time this year. I may have even been a starter. (For some reason, this, too, is foggy right now.) I loved playing soccer, and I loved Coach Shetler (never mind my crush on his daughter).

The need for me to start right away made this a difficult decision for me. I didn't want to quit soccer, but I figured I was JV and the season was almost over, although I had some hope that I'd get to go to the tournaments with the Varsity. For some reason, though — and I think this has lifelong ramifications — I chose to quit soccer and take the job.

When I told Coach, I could see the sadness on his face as he told me that he was planning on having me suit up for Varsity and come along for the tournament. That honestly broke my teenage heart and almost made me change my mind. Changing my mind, though, felt like flip-flopping and backing out on one's promises, though. Also, I needed the money. At any rate, I was tired of never sticking with a decision, so I followed through and started my job.

The job itself was, of course, actually mundane: file payment documentation and month-end reports and shred old or incorrect documentation. I also had to deal with year-end stuff, where I had to move all the previous year's payment files and reports to storage boxes. There were year-end reports to store and month-end reports to shred. The best part of the job was getting to go to the corporate offices across the street to deal with documentation and inter-office mail or get executive signatures on something. I also would occasionally have to walk through the plant for requisitions and different things. It wasn't the most exciting job, but it was a paycheck and responsibility and mostly enjoyable people to work with.

I was looking forward to more hours during my summer between high school and college. Then I was called into the A/P manager's office and told that I was being let go due to cost cutting in the company. I was quite heart-broken, actually. That devastated me and really made me realize that employees are just numbers and tools for companies. This concept infuriated me, but I had to move on.

And I did. I got a girlfriend and then went to college. But that's all for another post.

Nervous or giddy? (Last job and first job)

This week I finally did something I had wanted to do for several months, if not a couple of years: I turned in my letter of resignation at my current employer. I am currently expected to work until March 1, but will try to whittle that time down as much as possible when I next talk to my direct supervisor.

Meanwhile, I feel a need, as I review my life, to review my job history. It's a long and winding road, indeed. Maybe by writing about some of this experience, I can find some answers (and probably ask quite a few more questions). This will be a multi-post endeavor for me, so let's start at the beginning.

My career is, to put it mildly, a train wreck. In my 28 years of working, the longest I have worked at one place was six years and one month, and that was a part-time job. My longest full-time job was the 2 1/2 years of this current position. I have had many, many more part-time jobs than full-time.

The first... and a favorite

I was given my first job the summer after 8th grade when I was hired as a bagboy at a local grocery store. I don't remember the details of how I learned about or got the job, but my guess is that I found it via a classmate  and soccer teammate, John. He and his older brother and sister already worked there, and I'm sure he mentioned to me they were seeking more help for the summer.

My mom also knew the store owner, Jerry, from high school and from bowling league. Jerry was a very nice guy to deal with and a great first boss. I mostly enjoyed working at the store. The customers weren't too bad, it wasn't too busy and touristy yet, I got to browse the Christian bookstore in the same building, and I got out of the house and got to make my own money to do with as I wanted.

In fact, that was a great summer. I had recently finally learned how to ride a bicycle — a yellow and black BMX my parents got me for Christmas — and somehow convinced my parents to let me ride this bicycle from home the 5.5 miles to (and from) the grocery store most days. This was exhausting at times, and sometimes I was late, but I loved the freedom of biking the back roads and the challenge of cramming my work outfit into a small "fanny pack." What I did not like were the really hot days and one of employees who was not very good at not being a supervisor.

I quit the job when practice for soccer started in early August. Jerry said I could continue to work there when available, but I declined his offer. This seems now to be a premonition of my future career choices.

Turn around

It's amazing what a little hope will do for a person. Just that little bit of thinking, "Hey, there really is a chance that things can change for the better. There really is a chance I can succeed at life." Your mindset, posture, health... all seem to instantly change for the better. When people start talking about "mind over matter" and mental fortitude, there really is something there. The problem is getting past the depression and the stone walls that block your view of the hope that is there to hold on to.

This is what I experienced after I finally gave my two-week notice at my customer service job yesterday. I have had this job for over 2-1/2 years, but didn't want it to last six months. It took a lot of mental gymnastics to keep me going back day after day, with only the entertainment and interaction of those I worked with and my walks during breaks helping me get through each day on the work side.

Now, though, I'm scared, too. I have to actually kick into gear my goals and plans for this next chapter of life:

• Generate an income writing freelance through numerous websites.
• Generate an income via blogging.
• Substitute teaching.
• Develop and write for my book ideas.

So far, I already have a start on substitute teaching. I actually signed up with the local Educational Service Center and already got called to sub last Tuesday, which happened to be my day off from the full-time job. This also makes me hopeful and nervous. I actually have a license to teach high school or junior high English, but was not able get a full-time job (and not entirely certain I want one). One of my weaknesses with teaching is that I tend to be too laid-back about enforcing rules and focusing students on their work, so this makes the idea of substituting interesting.

Now we shall see.

Really, my earliest memory is this

One other very early memory that I have (I absolutely would have to be three or four for this) is actually just an image or two of life from the first time we lived in Shreve (I lived in Millersburg, Shreve (twice), Wooster (Madisonburg), Walnut Creek growing up).

I don't remember what the house looked like when we lived there, but I remember the full-size black poodle we had as a pet. And I remember going across the street to visit "Grandma and Grandpa" Hostetler. If you've had an elderly couple for neighbors when you were a kid, you might remember them in the same way.

Even after we moved to Madisonburg, we would still go to Shreve to visit them. Over the years, I also remember

• Sitting on the floor in their house, admiring the oddities of their plush orangish-brown shag carpet while my parents played Euchre with them.
• "Grandma" cooking up corn-on-the-cob and cutting down each row before rubbing the stick of butter and shaking the salt on it. Cutting the corn like that was weird to me since no one else I knew did that, but my mind made the corn taste better when she did that.
• Looking at the age spots on Grandma's arms and wondering if that's what my horrible freckles were going to turn into.
• The old entry doors they had (including one with the card table for playing Euchre blocking it at times) and the old-style steel keys that they used.
• I can't picture any of it konw, but I remember marvelling at their old furniture, hi-fi stereo system, and the various trinkets "Grandma" had strewn throughout the house.
• I was a very curious boy (still am) and would go into any room I wanted to, sneaking into their bedroom to see what kind of stuff they had in there, too.

I loved the Hostetlers very much and considered them my grandparents even after I figured out and confirmed they were, indeed, not biological grandparents to me. Grandpa died while I was in college (the first time), I think, and it was a very sad time for me, even though I had not kept in touch much anymore.

Another early memory

Another early memory is one of me riding with my dad and namesake in his Chevy Luv pickup.

Much like this one.

We were driving across the Madison Ave bridge over US 30 in Wooster and witnessed an accident. I think it was a head-on collision of a semi truck and a full-size pickup, but I'm unclear on that. Dad pulled to the side of the road and got out (he probably told me to stay in the pickup). I was very young, somewhere between 5 and 7, and I think I didn't pay much attention to the accident or didn't see it or avoided seeing it (I never have liked the site of blood much). I'm not sure on that part, but, for some reason, I think when he came back I asked Dad what he was doing.

What freaked me out here was when he came back in the pickup and started rubbing his hands together and remarking about the blood. Repeatedly.

And that's all I remember for certain. Obviously, there was some resolution to this scene where I may have asked him what was wrong or something like that and he probably shrugged it off after a moment and then continued our trip to wherever we were going. I have no clue, though. At least not right now. Maybe some psychologist will want to delve into this and can extract more detail someday. If that happens, I will probably expand on it here.

Years later, when I was a teenager, that hand-wringing and the repeated words about blood would reoccur. Dad was sitting on the floor of our house between Walnut Creek and Trail and started doing this as if in a trance. I don't recall the situation otherwise or what set it off. What I can be certain of, though, is that either he and Mom were arguing or he was watching TV. That covers 90% of what I remember of regular life with my namesake.

In high school, my Senior English teacher, Mr. Pratt, hosted an assembly with some Vietnam veterans. They talked openly and honestly about their lives with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was during this that it finally dawned on me what part of my father's entire problem may have been. I confirmed with Mom that he had served in Korea, something which I don't recall him talking about, although I'm sure I should have known that already. I do remember finding his discharge paper in the attic one time.

That was a lightning bolt of understanding for me. Dad and I never got along very well (something that I could write pages and pages about, and just might do so in the future). We still didn't even after this, but I had more... empathy? ...for him once I had this knowledge.

Of course, he never got treatment and died of an aneurysm two years after my revelation came to me.

First time to substitute (Subbing #1)

I substituted at Tusky Valley Middle School in 8th grade English/Language Arts today. It was my first substituting since 2011.

I was actually called by the secretary later in the day when I already had other plans. I still work at Digital Dish, but this was a day off for me. The secretary was fine with me getting there late that day and I was glad to start something new.

The really fun part of this first assignment was finding the building. From cross country, soccer, and applying for a teaching position, I knew where the high school was. The sign said high school and middle school, so I went into the main entrance and asked how I get to the middle school. The secretary told me something like it was "to the back" or something. I walked down the hall and checked all the rooms, thinking it was at the back of the building I was in. Finally, there was an office for a guidance secretary and, not wanting to completely embarrass myself with the main secretary, I asked her where the middle school was. There is actually another, newer building behind the high school that I would have to drive to! Oops.

Beyond the late start, my first subbing job was fairly standard, for better or for worse. There were chatty students throughout the day. I also had to do recess duty during lunch periods. The lunches and recesses here were a first for me. Well, this whole school is a first for me. The building actually housed fifth grade through eighth grade, not just seventh and eighth. The lunch periods are 40 minutes long and divided into 20 minutes portions. One grade eats lunch while another grade plays in the gym. After 20 minutes, each group/grade lines up or sits on the bleachers, then switch between lunch and recess.

For the most part, nothing significant happened that I can remember, but a nice day overall. It was better than my current full-time job, but I obviously either need to improve my classroom management skills or I need to relax my expectations.

Earliest memory

I tend to consider my earliest memory to be the simple act of waking up. Yet, it wasn't merely "waking up" like any normal day. This was more akin to Neo taking the blue pill in The Matrix. I don't even remember all the details and cannot say whether it was just a dream or, indeed, was reality. All I remember is realizing I was awake in bed in my bedroom in Madisonburg. I remember nothing else about the day and nothing else from before this day. I know I was five years old and in Kindergarten at Wayne Elementary.

The most basic

Frame of reference affects everything. It affects how you think, how you look at things and your attitude, how you act and live. Seems pretty obvious, no?

What is your frame of reference? Mine seems to be bitterness. I am bitter at myself for not making better choices. I am bitter at my parents for moving me from Madisonburg when I was nine years old. I am bitter at the world for not giving me what I expected from life. I am bitter about so many disappointments and failures and... all of my life, right now.

This has to change right now. I have to let go of the bitterness, the disappointment, and take a new view of life - a view that I have control over what I can do with what remains of my life. I need a view that puts my wife and children ahead of technology and selfish desires that I view as needs. I need a view that puts spirituality and relationship with God ahead of my sin - that embraces my humanity as a spiritual asset. Somehow. If I understand what that even means.

This blog is going to be several things:

• Typing practice since my typing really seems to have gone downhill.
• Writing practice since I really hate to write but that seems to be what I need to do most.
• Exercise for my dwindling vocabulary.
• A journal of my thoughts and, perhaps, dreams.
• A curation of autobiographical events, reactions, and thoughts.
• Other sundry crap as it comes to mind.