My Job
My job keeps growing.
For 18 years, I was a high school English teacher, and for a good part of those years, a department coordinator. But, though I think I was a tolerable leader of the English department at my previous place of employment, I was in no way that leader that I have become today. For, the chaos and change in my move and subsequent divorce a few years ago taught me much.
When I first started at my current work four years ago, I recieved the job title of Interim Director of the Library. Then the word Interim went away. Then I added chairperson of a couple committees to my job title. And now, in addition to my library responsibilities, I'm teaching again, co-developing a program for struggling students.
So, what does my job look like? Here's a sketch of a day:
I open the library at 7:30am. In the early morning, there are already kids outside the library, waiting to get in to finish homework and use the space to study. As the start of the school day nears, more and more students arrive, and the atmosphere shifts from one of study to one of socializing for a few minutes before the first bell. During this time, while maintaining order in the place, I also check out books (yes, a few!), calculators for the day to those who forgot theirs at home, noise-cancelling headphones to those who need silence to study, whiteboard pens to those who need to work with a study group in the collaborative spaces, and any and every art supply for projects. Students likely will ask me to read and comment on papers that are due later that day. Students will ask me for research help, help with the printers, help figuring out when a teacher has office hours, and whether they should go to Sonoma State or Cal Poly Pomona (or Santa Clara or LMU or Brown or Bowdoin or any other permutation). I fix a stapler or a hole puncher or a printer. Then school starts and another library faculty member comes on for an hour or so while I go to my office and try to catch up.
In my office, I pay invoices, evaluate usage of our various subscription databases, research new books that fill gaps in our collection and order them, plan work for student workers, schedule library staff for irregular calendars or when one has to be out for an extended conference, retreat, or illness, take some time to think about what the library faculty is doing and give props where props are frequently due and guidance where it's needed, build informational literacy lessons for me and library faculty to deliver in classrooms, assess success of our library offerings, answer so many emails, work on materials and support for the program/class that I co-lead, send overdue notices, write library newsletters, send out information about a faculty discussion group I co-lead, work on vision and strategy for continuing to move the library forward, read some professional texts. And more.
Later in the day I'll be on the desk for two more big chunks of time and work with students. Frequently, I'll run upstairs to a history or science or language or religion classroom (ironically, never English) as soon as I'm off the desk again in order to lead a class on a research-based lesson. Then I'll run to the class I co-teach and sometimes get teary over the beauty of the students' learning and challenges. Then back to the library desk or office.
After school, I usually have a meeting. Once a month, the meeting is with other department heads and our boss; other times it will be with the Writing Across the Curriculum committee I chair, or with students in the Outdoors or Book Clubs that I moderate, or with a colleague with whom I'm collaborating on a project, or with the team of faculty and students with whom I'll be on retreat the following week.
That's what I get paid for. At 3:30, I leave work to go home and begin the work that is essential to me for which there is no payment: shopping for groceries and cooking, step-moming (or bonus-moming, depending on your perspective), walking the dog and feeding and cleaning up after two critters, networking the neighborhood via the garden group I started or other means to help build and maintain a healthy local community, working in my garden or at the pottery studio, cleaning.
Years ago, I thought I was busy. My busy-ness is different now. I no longer grade papers—the relief of that is larger than I can state. It's like removing a boulder from my brain or a skyscraper off my toes. I can think and move so much more freely. But, the variety that is part of my every day is so much wider, and the community I serve daily, both in my work and in my home, larger. These roles take creativity and care in different ways than I've experienced before.
As a result of this, I haven't written much. My lack of writing makes me feel constipated with words and ideas. I have so much I need to get out and I'm not sure when or how it will all be released. It will be though. I must be patient with myself.
Because, if I've learned anything in the last few years, a big part of my job is to love myself.
For 18 years, I was a high school English teacher, and for a good part of those years, a department coordinator. But, though I think I was a tolerable leader of the English department at my previous place of employment, I was in no way that leader that I have become today. For, the chaos and change in my move and subsequent divorce a few years ago taught me much.
When I first started at my current work four years ago, I recieved the job title of Interim Director of the Library. Then the word Interim went away. Then I added chairperson of a couple committees to my job title. And now, in addition to my library responsibilities, I'm teaching again, co-developing a program for struggling students.
So, what does my job look like? Here's a sketch of a day:
I open the library at 7:30am. In the early morning, there are already kids outside the library, waiting to get in to finish homework and use the space to study. As the start of the school day nears, more and more students arrive, and the atmosphere shifts from one of study to one of socializing for a few minutes before the first bell. During this time, while maintaining order in the place, I also check out books (yes, a few!), calculators for the day to those who forgot theirs at home, noise-cancelling headphones to those who need silence to study, whiteboard pens to those who need to work with a study group in the collaborative spaces, and any and every art supply for projects. Students likely will ask me to read and comment on papers that are due later that day. Students will ask me for research help, help with the printers, help figuring out when a teacher has office hours, and whether they should go to Sonoma State or Cal Poly Pomona (or Santa Clara or LMU or Brown or Bowdoin or any other permutation). I fix a stapler or a hole puncher or a printer. Then school starts and another library faculty member comes on for an hour or so while I go to my office and try to catch up.
In my office, I pay invoices, evaluate usage of our various subscription databases, research new books that fill gaps in our collection and order them, plan work for student workers, schedule library staff for irregular calendars or when one has to be out for an extended conference, retreat, or illness, take some time to think about what the library faculty is doing and give props where props are frequently due and guidance where it's needed, build informational literacy lessons for me and library faculty to deliver in classrooms, assess success of our library offerings, answer so many emails, work on materials and support for the program/class that I co-lead, send overdue notices, write library newsletters, send out information about a faculty discussion group I co-lead, work on vision and strategy for continuing to move the library forward, read some professional texts. And more.
Later in the day I'll be on the desk for two more big chunks of time and work with students. Frequently, I'll run upstairs to a history or science or language or religion classroom (ironically, never English) as soon as I'm off the desk again in order to lead a class on a research-based lesson. Then I'll run to the class I co-teach and sometimes get teary over the beauty of the students' learning and challenges. Then back to the library desk or office.
After school, I usually have a meeting. Once a month, the meeting is with other department heads and our boss; other times it will be with the Writing Across the Curriculum committee I chair, or with students in the Outdoors or Book Clubs that I moderate, or with a colleague with whom I'm collaborating on a project, or with the team of faculty and students with whom I'll be on retreat the following week.
That's what I get paid for. At 3:30, I leave work to go home and begin the work that is essential to me for which there is no payment: shopping for groceries and cooking, step-moming (or bonus-moming, depending on your perspective), walking the dog and feeding and cleaning up after two critters, networking the neighborhood via the garden group I started or other means to help build and maintain a healthy local community, working in my garden or at the pottery studio, cleaning.
Years ago, I thought I was busy. My busy-ness is different now. I no longer grade papers—the relief of that is larger than I can state. It's like removing a boulder from my brain or a skyscraper off my toes. I can think and move so much more freely. But, the variety that is part of my every day is so much wider, and the community I serve daily, both in my work and in my home, larger. These roles take creativity and care in different ways than I've experienced before.
As a result of this, I haven't written much. My lack of writing makes me feel constipated with words and ideas. I have so much I need to get out and I'm not sure when or how it will all be released. It will be though. I must be patient with myself.
Because, if I've learned anything in the last few years, a big part of my job is to love myself.
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