Great News...I have a job next year.

Yeah, anyone reading that title will wonder what I've been up to. A job next year? Of course. Have I been shopping around for a new one? Nope. Oh, but read on.

So, I got one of those email messages that requested my presence at a meeting with a counselor and an AP to discuss a class I teach. Now, it's not a total surprise that it's up for discussion due to the 4X4 requirements for kids to graduate, but I'd been told recently that we weren't changing anything for next year.

Long story short (who me?), I was told the class was out to be replaced with another one. Wait. My baby? I birthed that class. I wrote all the curriculum FROM SCRATCH with no TEKS and no guidelines. But it's my baby. I've coddled it through collicky six weeks and countless bouts with vocabularyitis and freshmenitis. No, not my baby!!!!!!! Call CPS...this has to be abuse.

But that wasn't really the issue, was it? No, and if you know me, you know that it's not that I won't be teaching this FAB class next year. It's not even that my baby is being kidnapped and put out to pasture. Nope, it's that NO ONE TOLD ME!

Maintaining as much control as I could, I questioned #1 the length of time this had been in the works (a while) and #2 why I hadn't been told (we didn't want to upset you in case it didn't happen) while they professed their appreciation for me and that it hadn't been "hidden" from me (see answer to question #2).

I barely made it back to my room before bursting into tears. I sobbed to the Honey. I sobbed to the friends. I sobbed to my laptop. And then I dried my tears, put on fresh makeup and got ready to spend the evening recruiting 8th graders for next year.

Hey, I'll just focus on my team next year and kick everyone's tail...and teach that other class with my eyes closed. At the recruitment for the FIRST time ever, kids were looking FOR US!!

The upside? They did say I had a job next year.

Duh!