Young Females Beware: They might take advantage of you too!

Today was my day off. Yay for Jewish holidays! I'm not Jewish, but I'm glad that they get their fair share of days off because I've rarely had to attend school on the holidays I celebrate.

I was so looking forward to today ... I've been running for the past 6 weeks, and a day off is a lovely luxury. I also had big plans for today ...

• Oil change & tire replacements
• Finish compiling the spreadsheet of my parent volunteers
• Watch Part II of the Grey's premiere from last week
• Set up online accounts for my new working benefits
• Prepare my lunches for the rest of the week

Alas, the promise of these glorious plans was squashed after the very first task listed above.

I had printed off a coupon (thank you, teachers' union!) for a place where I had decided to get my oil changed. I had my brand-new tires in my car, ready for installation. I called and made an appointment (not necessary but is supposed to entitle me to priority status on their schedule). I showed up on time and handed over my keys.

After a few minutes, one of the guys tells me my tires are out of alignment, and that I need to get them realigned. I am surprised by this because my dad had inspected my car last night, but I figure that because the worker, the expert, says it is necessary, I should comply.

Two hours later, I've exhausted all of their magazines (7 or so), the one chapter in my book that I was allowed to read (Westley and I have started our own book club, and we're not supposed to read ahead!), and I haven't eaten lunch. The procedures should not have taken more than 1 hour. I am bored and grumpy.

Then another employee comes over and shows me a price estimate. $450+. More work is needed - flush and replace the steering fluid. He is rather rushed with his explanation and I don't have the chance to get a good look at the paper outlining the expenses. Again, I am surprised by this, as I'd had major maintenance about 10K ago, but I trust him that when he says the work is necessary, it truly is. Even though my car is relatively young, I don't suspect the high prices.

A half hour later, my mom calls. I tell her that they're taking forever and that the cost is nearly 3 times what it should have been. I am frustrated by the long wait and the rising expenses. Shocked, she tells me that I need to call my dad right away; she doesn't believe that all of those procedures are necessary.

My dad confirms my mother's concerns and instructs me to inquire as to the status of my services. The workers confirm that they have changed the oil, replaced the filter (not part of the original agreement and an unnecessary expense), done a fuel injection (the costliest item on the list, not even mentioned to me previously), and put on my new tires. They are about to do the alignment.

I share this with my father who explains that with my recent maintenance and considering the age of my car, these additional procedures and costs are NOT necessary, as I'd been falsely led to believe. I've been taken advantage of.

I tell them to CANCEL the alignment. I affirmed that I had come in asking only for an oil change and to have tires mounted, and now I want no more additional procedures done. I had a major maintenance recently, I explain (and they look uncomfortable).

One employee has the gall to say, "Well, maybe you ought to check out that place because they obviously didn't do these procedures in that maintenance checkup you had."

The employees now know that I am incredibly suspicious and mistrusting of their business. They probably already know they've lost all possible future business from me. When I get my bill, they explain that they've given me further discounts (-15%) and they've taken off the charge for the alignment because they had not yet begun work on it. Another employee tells me he would have given me an additional discount off the tire alignment, and if I change my mind, I can still get 50% off in the future. Their placations seem to only solidify my suspicions that they have acted in an unethical manner.

I am so angry I can barely breathe, but I remain calm. I pay the $330 bill and thank God that my business with them is over. I never have to go back to those crooks again.

Alas.

As I drive to a store across the street, there is a funny noise whenever I turn my steering wheel. This noise was NOT there before I took my car to the shop. I call my dad again. He tells me to take it back to the shop.

"Because it's the same day," he explains, "they'll remember you, and the guy who serviced your car is likely still there. Better to get it over with and have them check it out."

I return and explain the problem. The young man who apparently worked on my car comes out with me and drives it around the parking lot. He confirms that he hears the noise, and he promises to check it out.

Minutes later, another employee hands back my keys and tell me that he could barely hear the noise. He had to listen really hard for it. I share that the young man who drove around with me confirmed that he heard the noise too. The employee responds that the problem is a "normal" one; the contact between my ABS system and my steering column is causing the noise. It's an age issue with the car, he assures me, but it's fine. Plus, his men were not anywhere near my steering column when they did the other work today.

"Must be a strange coincidence, huh? I mean, the noise wasn't there when I brought the car in today." I say boldly. He has no response.

I ask him to repeat the explanation for the noise and tell him I'm documenting it as I write it down on a scrap piece of paper. Unfortunately, I did not get the names of any of the employees with whom I spoke today.

I call my father again who agrees that this all seemed too fishy to be a coincidence. The place had already ripped me off by misleading me and telling me that unnecessary procedures were needed for the car. How are we supposed to know if they are lying again?

Because he knew that I was headed to another store to make some purchases for my classroom, my father suggests I take my car to its brand dealership, the place from which I had purchased my car and also the location where I had gotten it maintenanced most recently. My family has been going to this dealership for nearly 20 years ... and I would have gone there today if I hadn't had the coupon for my oil change at the first place.

I walk in and explain my situation. The service manager himself agrees to come with me and check out my car. We drive around for less than 10 minutes, and he confirms that he hears the noise. He also doesn't agree with the first place's diagnosis for the cause/source of the noise. He has another suspicion - a problem which would have been caused by poor servicing when my steering fluid was replaced.

He says he can inspect my car for free and he will "go to bat" for me with the first business if needed. He assures me it is safe to drive until my appointment there next week, and he walks me through the steps that will have to take place if the problem is indeed what he suspects. I am relieved ... but I am also quite angry that my day off has become a day of stress and headaches. What should have taken one hour took about four hours, from the time I dropped off my car to the time I left the dealership.

---

I'm thankful that there was an honest person- my parents can vouch for his integrity- who was able to help me at the end of this ordeal. Still, I am so ANGRY that I was taken advantage of. I had heard about these kinds of scams-"requiring" unnecessary work on cars- used on unsuspecting young females. I just never expected that such a scam would be used on me. (Of course, that assumption further supports my inclusion in that population.)

After today, I am a little wiser, a little disheartened and a great deal poorer. I hope that my sharing of my experience will inspire others to be more cautious.

Warm fuzzy on a Friday

Earlier this week, I had each section of the choir sing an excerpt of the piece we were learning. As each section sang, the other sections were instructed to listen closely so that they could offer one positive comment about the performing section's demonstration.

After the sopranos in one class sang, one little boy raised his hand to give feedback. He is not always aware of what is going on around him, and the sweet girl who sits next to him helps him focus and comply with directions. He never speaks up in class, and his aide was as surprised as I was when he raised his hand to participate.

"What did you think about their singing?" I asked him gently.

"They sounded like angels," he breathed quietly, as though their music had touched him more deeply than he could articulate.

They Found Me

I've worn my college ring every day since I purchased it over three years ago. Because the ring comes in only one style, it is quite distinctive and is therefore easily recognizable by those who are familiar with AlmaMater. I've met alumni who still wear their ring, even after more than thirty years have passed since they attended our Alma Mater.

A few weeks ago, at our last school faculty meeting, one of the other teachers saw my ring.

"Is that an AlmaMater ring?" she inquired excitedly.

"Yes," I responded, pleased that someone had recognized it.

"I'm an alum too! I graduated in 199(?)! When did you graduate?" I told her, and then our meeting began ... I was thrilled that I had a connection with one of my new colleagues.

The other day, I was attempting to find the classroom of another colleague (in an unknown section of the school). As I asked another teacher for directions, she asked,

"You went to AlmaMater, right?"

"Yes," I replied, pleased that she remembered.

"My cousin, FirstName LastName, is dean of students there. My maiden name was LastName."

"Oh, okay," I gushed. "Of course I remember him," recalling that her cousin is actually the president of AlmaMater. "What a small world!" I remarked as I thanked her for her assistance in locating our colleague. I didn't tell her that my most prominent memory of her cousin was when our choir director shared that he had been quite offended that the music students didn't greet him when he walked through our "backstage" area, also the location of the administrative offices, before one of our concerts a few years ago. None of us knew who he was because he didn't make an effort of actively supporting the music programs.

Today, I wore my ring as I always do, and I threw on my AlmaMater sweatshirt when I got home after church. I've been reminiscing lately, and I smiled the other day when I noticed a recent visit to my page was made by someone in CoolCity, home to AlmaMater.

This afternoon, shortly after I awoke from a quick nap, I received a phone call.

"Hi, this is Stu Dent from AlmaMater," the young lady stated, pausing to confirm my name.

"I'm calling to update our alumni records and to share information about the annual alumni pledge fund." She confirmed my address and then proceeded to ask if I would be able to contribute to the fund.

I hesitated. I'm grateful to AlmaMater for the stellar education I received, but I still have several thousand dollars in loans to pay back. As a student at AlmaMater, I always joked with my friends that I'd donate money after I had paid off all the loans. I'm thrilled to have a job now and I have been overjoyed on the past two pay days when I see the amount that I'm earning. (As a teacher, it's not a huge amount, but so far, I've earned more in six weeks of school than I ever earned over a single summer!)

So I hesitated momentarily before I asked if my contribution could be earmarked for a certain area -- the music school.

"Yes, that is possible," the student happily responded.

"What about certain areas within the music school? For example, the choral organizations?"

"Well, I see some areas ..." she replied, listing a few smaller accounts. None specifically related to any opportunities I took part in while at AlmaMater.

"The general music school fund is fine," I said, "and I'd like to contribute [small amount]." I gave her the rest of the information she needed and wished her a happy school year.

"You too!" She chirped cheerily, before pausing. "I mean, have a good week," as she realized that, as an alumna, I was no longer a student and therefore was probably not in the school year routine.

"Oh, I'm a teacher, so I'm on the school year system too," I responded, grinning. She thanked me and we hung up.

They found me after all ... and against my earlier plans, I donated anyway. My contribution won't go far, but ... I'm sure this is only the first of many contributions I'll make over the years.

Flying

Even though I ought to stay home this weekend to create some order in my living area, I am taking off yet again.

I've driven to see Westley twice since the school year began. It has been tough being several hours apart ... but we talk on the phone daily, and that eases the pain of separation somewhat.

This weekend, I'm visiting my sister and our elderly relatives. This means that I have about 8 hours of driving between today after school and Sunday morning before church. Did I mention I have a part-time church gig in addition to my overwhelming I-was-working-for-11-hours-straight-on-Wednesday teaching job? Ah, such is the life of a musician, right?

I constantly feel as though I'm flying by the seat of my pants ... The stream of necessary responsibilities is neverending.

And now? I have one hour to get ready, pack for the weekend, and pack my lunch before I leave so that I'm on time for yet another meeting.

Back-to-School Night

Yup, we had our Back-to-School night this week. I was not really nervous ahead of time, even though my colleagues kept asking me if I was. I was excited and I wasn't 100% sure what to expect, but it really went fine. As the new (and only) teacher of a particular subject in the building, I had MANY parents come up to me. I didn't even try to count ... but I'm grateful that not every parent of each of my students came up to me ... because I have nearly 300 students!

I freaked out a little the morning of the Big Night because I heard from other teachers that it was expected that we'd have some sort of display when the parents came up to us in the cafeteria. Gotta love that they relied on word-of-mouth communication to convey this to the new teacher ... One of my coworkers (who has become quite a good friend) told me that some of her kids would have extra time in class today if I wanted them to create a backboard for me. I jumped at the offer, while feeling slightly inwardly nervous that the final product would look less than professional.

At the end of their class session, two students brought over the backboard ... and I was blown away. They'd put up the information I'd emailed about my program to my coworker, and they were able to print out some pictures that another coworker had happened to take of my rehearsal earlier in the week. There were colorful cutouts and accents, and they even had a few musical symbols scattered on the board ... I gushed praise for their efforts and I "paid" them with some of the bribery tools behavior rewards that the school uses.

At the event itself, I heard a few comments about my age:

• "When I saw you sitting with the other teachers, I thought you couldn't be more than 18 years old!" (My response? "Thank you so much. What a compliment!" even though I was thinking, Ugh. I am SO tired of hearing about how I have such great genes that I look several years younger than I am.)
• "Oh, you must be a first year teacher!" (I am, but my response was always, "This is my first year at this school working with this age group, but last year, I worked with college students when I was getting my Master's.")
  

Some parents shared sweet stories or comments that their child had related about my class:

• "Are you an opera singer? My daughter told me you were!" (No, but I was trained classically.)
• "My child LOVES to sing and he/she adore you!" (I heard this countless times.)
• "My child is so thrilled that he/she was selected for the extracurricular chorus!"
  

Others simply introduced themselves and let me know that if their little darling ever acted up in class, I shouldn't hesitate to call home. (I heard this from the parents of the well-behaved children, but very few parents of the more behavior-challenged kids came up to me.)

There were a couple of awkward moments when a parent came up to ask about why their child had not been selected for the extracurricular chorus or when I mentioned to one parent that I hadn't seen her child for a few days, only to learn that the child had been suspended. (I had not been notified about this!)

A few times, I felt a little overwhelmed as I went from parent to parent to parent, making eye contact, shaking hands, and smiling until I thought my face would freeze in that I'm-so-happy-to-meet-you expression. I blinked a few times and tried to muster energy I wasn't sure I had.

Overall, I felt pleased that I was able to picture most of the kids (even remembering where they sit in class) when a parent approached me and said, "My child, So-and-so, is in your class," before sharing one of the above statements.

My adrenaline stayed with me for the evening and through my drive home ... and I fell asleep within moments of going to bed. Exhausting day ... I'm thankful that this only comes once a year!

Shrinking World

A couple of years ago, I wrote a paper for one of my undergraduate courses. My professor suggested I consider getting it published, and I submitted it to the most highly regarded publication I could think of, figuring I'd start at the top and work my way down if it was rejected. To my surprise and delight, I received a letter a few months later stating that my article was accepted for publication. Sweet!

It was published about a year and a half ago, and it's brought me some notice. The coolest "Hey, I'm almost famous" moment came when I was told by my international colleagues that they'd found my article in an Eastern European country's library last summer.

And it continues.

Westley's sister-in-law is pursuing her Master's in our shared field at the moment, and one of her courses required her to review an article in a professional journal. In her presentation to the class, she paused for a moment, slightly confused.

"The author's name sounds familiar, but I'm not sure why."

At the next class meeting, she informed her colleagues, "I figured out why the author sounded familiar. The article I reviewed was written by my future sister-in-law."

(For the record: There is no ring, no formality attached to that connection, although some talking has been done on the subject ...) :-)

Three weeks already? Some reflections

This week did feel especially long, considering it was the first full week of school, but I still have a hard time believing that today marked the end of the first three weeks of school. How is it possible that it's already been 3 weeks?!

Other teachers have asked me how my first teaching job is going so far ... and I honestly tell them I love it.

There are times that it has made me cry (twice, though only when I am alone or on the phone with Westley), but I can't even begin to count the times that it has made me laugh, grin, glow with pride ...

The eighth grade classes are still testing me, but I'm learning and they're getting away with less and less. I heard from another teacher that they said I was "really strict." Ha. I couldn't help but feel quite pleased when I heard that. That's exactly the impression I want them to have.

My younger students are still sweet, and they're constantly surprising me with how fast they catch on, especially when they perform better than the older students. I've been told by other teachers that the kids say they really like me, that I'm really nice, that I have a pretty voice ... I love hearing this feedback, but whenever a colleague shares something like this, it makes me wonder ... Who initiated the conversation? A curious colleague or a chatty kid?

~*~*~*~

As Westley had predicted, I recently became aware of my status as a "hot" teacher. Gulp. Just today, two of my sixth graders who sit near my desk were chatting.

"She's gotta be in her twenties. She can't be thaaaat old." One of them said.

"Yeah ... she's pretty hot, you know."

I made the mistake of sharing this revelation with my parents.

"That's so sweet," my mom gushed. "You might be their first little crush. Think about when you're 50 and reflecting back on your early teaching years ... you'll think it's really cute."

"It reinforces your image as a role model. It means they look up to you." My dad stated.

"Um, I'm not sure of that," I countered. "I think it just means they like to look at me."

"It's actually a good thing," my dad continued, "because you'll be able to transfer some of that positive attention onto your subject area ... and they could really fall in love with music."

"I hope it's that," I responded, "and that they won't just take my class because they think I'm 'hot.'"

~*~*~*~

I discovered that I work better at school than at home (because I usually procrastinate at home and then feel more stressed because the work weighs down on me) ... so I've been staying late at school. Our school gets out unusually late as it is (4pm), and I was at school until 6pm most nights this week and until 7pm last night.

It has not been incredibly easy adjusting to this schedule (See one of the recent previous entries regarding my typical day!), but it makes me all the more grateful to be living at home. The rent I pay and the cost/time of the commute is totally worth the extra pampering I receive: laundry, home-cooked meals, trading off hair-brushing favors with my mom ... and the occasional treat to satisfy my sweet tooth (because I refuse to buy those for myself but my parents generally have a small collection).

~*~*~*~

In a nutshell: So far, so good. :-) When I decided at age 14 that I wanted to pursue this career, I chose well.

The Saga of the Homeless Pencils

"Miss LastName, can I sharpen my pencil?"

"Not right now because it's during class time. Remember, we said pencils could be sharpened before class, during your warm-up activity, and after class. However, come over here and I will show you something."

My eighth graders turned around in their seats to face me as I stood in one of the back corners of my classroom.

"Let me tell you a story ... a sad tale about homeless pencils. Sometimes," I paused, allowing myself to adopt a pained and saddened expression.

"Sometimes, after a class has left, I find abandoned pencils on the floor. These poor pencils have been abandoned by their beloved owners, and they lie there, neglected, unloved, with no happy pencil pouch to call their home-"

"Miss LastName, are you crying?" asked one of the girls in the back row. (I was really hamming it up, and by this time, my eyes were almost moist.)

"Oh my gosh, she totally is!" One of the other girls said in response.

I interrupted my story to clarify, "No, I'm not crying ... I'm simply acting ... but let me continue with my story."

"So these pencils ... these poor, homeless pencils, left behind in my classroom ... I adopt them. When I discover one of these pencils which has been neglected, I place it in this bucket," I said, holding the bucket up, "and this becomes its new home."

"So ... if you forgot to bring a pencil, there just may be a homeless pencil which you may adopt." I handed a sharpened homeless pencil to the student who had wanted to sharpen her own pencil during class.

"Oh, and by the way, for those of you who were convinced by my acting ... I'm co-sponsoring the musical in the Spring ... in case you're interested in trying out."

Comments from students

"If I was disrespectful to you today, I apologize."

"Miss LastName, you sing like an angel!"

"The uniforms you talked about that we have to wear for the concert - do we have to wear those on days we have class too?"

"I like your shoes, Miss LastName!"

"But," (sob) "I've always been a soprano!"

"Miss LastName, you should try out for American Idol."

Average day of a first year teacher

Apologies to my lovelies ... in the past two weeks, my daily schedule has been:

5:00-5:30am: Wake up, grumble about it being too early, get out of bed

5:30-6:00am: Eat breakfast, read paper/email, tell myself that I better hurry and shower

6:00-7:00am: Take a shower (shave legs if wearing a skirt), apply makeup, decide on outfit

7:00am: Aack! I'm late! Alas! I must still pack my lunch!

7:05-7:10am: Pack lunch and head out the door

7:10-7:55am: Commute. Mostly on a road which has one lane of traffic in each direction. I'm screwed if a schoolbus or a slowpoke is driving in front of me. (Note: I tried passing a slow car on the first day of school and was pulled over by a cop who clocked me at my passing speed. Lucky for me, I didn't receive a ticket because he was paged about some sort of emergency and he let me go. NOW: No more attempts at passing.)

8:00am-5:30pm: Sign in at school, begin planning time, morning duty, more planning, teach classes, eat lunch with the other adults, more planning

5:30-6:30pm: Commute home during rush hour.

6:30pm: Arrive home exhausted. Debate over taking a nap. Decide not to take a nap because that will mess up my sleeping schedule.

6:30-9:00pm: Eat dinner, do the homework I brought home (grading, creating materials for class, lesson planning, etc.), maybe allow myself some time to unwind by checking email, blogs & the 'book

9:00-10:00pm: Talk with Westley

10:00pm: Go to bed.