Cut the Forms and Let me Teach

“I just want to teach!” Sherry strode into Kay’s classroom. “I’d become an administrator if I wanted to fill out forms.”

Kay and Nadia looked up from the books on Kay’s round table.

“IEPs?” Kay asked.

Sherry nodded, “And ILPs. How am I supposed to do eight IEPs, two ILPs and keep up with planning, preparation and marking 30 grade five students’ work?” Sherry rubbed her forehead.

“You have eight IEPs?” Nadia exclaimed.

Sherry nodded.

“You need release time,” Kay said.

“Bev gave me one period.  I might get one accommodated IEP done. That leaves three other accommodated ones and four modified IEPs.  Those take forever!  It’s an eight page form. At least. Some I have to modify for Social Studies and Science.” 

“IEPs are worse than report cards.” Nadia nodded her head.

“You can master the report card system, but they keep changing expectations for IEPs.” Kay nodded. “Ask for more release time.”

“Even if she gives me one more period that still means I have to stay a few nights to do the others and it’s my first year teaching grade five I can’t wing anything yet. I’m still learning the curriculum.” Sherry sat done on a blue plastic chair. “I get here at eight.  I leave at six, I work a few hours each weekend.  I’ve accepted that my life goes on pause during report cards, ‘cause we get great holidays. But I don’t know if this is worth it.”

“Your pay is only on step three. It will go up,” Nadia said.

“Yeah, but right now I can barely afford my basement bachelor apartment and my  economy car payments.  I like nice things, not that I have much time to shop anyhow.”

“What else would you do?” Kay asked.

“Go back to school.  Study optometry. Or marketing. Ian works a lot of hours but he gets paid over 100 000.”

“Wouldn’t you miss the kids?” Nadia asked.

Sherry ran her hand through her hair. “Yes, of course I would. I love listening to their stories.  I love their enthusiasm.  But there’s so much garbage to deal with.”

  “I think we all feel like quitting sometimes.” Kay said.  “But there are plusses to teaching other than the holidays.”

“Not the benefit package,” Nadia shook her head. “We’re still at 2008 for dental.”

Kay laughed. “No, not the benefit package.  Although I’m looking forward to my gratuity and pension.” Kay set down her pen. “I mean the creativity of the job, and the fact that no two days are ever alike and you get to start fresh each September and the kids are cute and funny and even when they do something wrong you know that its because they’re kids and they still need to learn.”

“I know,” Sherry shook her head. “No. I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“Maybe we could make IEPs fun?” Nadia suggested.

“It’s a legal document,” Kay said.

“So you couldn’t write them in rhyme?” Nadia asked.  

Sherry giggled. “Johnny will receive individualized attention, in order to improve his reading comprehension.” 

“Exactly!” Nadia pounded the table. “Or we could work on them together as part of a drinking game? Finish a page and take a shot?” Nadia asked.

“Only if you don’t want to keep your job,” Kay said.

“Ahh!” Nadia waved her pen in the air. “But Sherry isn’t sure that she does.”

Sherry and Kay stared at Nadia.

“Just a suggestion,” Nadia muttered.  “You’d probably rather quit then be fired and appear in the blue pages anyhow.”

Sherry nodded. “I guess I’d better get to work ‘cause I don’t even want to think about spending the day with 30 ten year olds who have nothing to keep them busy.”

“Don’t rush to make a decision,” Kay said. “You have lots of time.”

Sherry stood up. “I just wish I had time to do those IEPs.” 

“We’re all captive on the carousel of time,” Nadia said. “Joni Mitchell. Paraphrased.”

Sherry rose. “Minister of Education, I beseech.” She walked to the door. “Cut the forms and let me teach.”  She stepped out and called from the hallway.  “Sherry Smythe. Original.”

“See,” Nadia said. “That’s the idea!”