I'm thinking of moving to the Alabama or Florida coast. They need teachers everywhere, right?
So much talk has been going around about the "need for a teacher pay raise". I started out as a teacher here in Mississippi making around $31,000. As a new college graduate, I thought that was a fabulous. After living off of my parents and student loans for six months since I had been student teaching, any amount of money above minimum wage sounded awesome. However, after two years of teaching, I'm realizing that that's just not enough. I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I wouldn't be doing that without the help of student loans for graduate school. That's ridiculous.
Did you know that on the Alabama coast, the starting pay for someone with zero experience and a B.S. degree is $37,000? According the Alabama Department of Education website, with my master's degree, I could be making around $40,000 right now, which is about $7,000 more than I make now. It doesn't matter where I go or what I teach, the students are going to be the same. Why not go somewhere where I can make more money? No, it's not just about the money; however, the money doesn't hurt.
To the people who say, "You get the summer off!" and "You don't do anything all day!", please, oh, please come join me in my classroom for a week. Actually, don't. That'd be inappropriate and disruptive to my classroom, and my students need all the time they can get to focus and complete the lessons. I'm busy. I'm busy from 6:30 AM to 10:00 PM. I get phone calls ranging from praising to angry at the oddest hours. I grade assignments and cry over the failures. I spend extra time coming up with new ways to teach old material to the students who fail. When they still fail, I spend the other free time filling out paper work for the students who fail so that I can prove that I did everything I could and am not to blame for their failures; however, in the end, I still take personal responsibility for the failures and beat myself up about it. I care. I care a lot. Even when I don't want to care, I just keep on caring. I became a teacher because I care. I care about kids, their futures, their correct usage of the English language, their ability to write, read, analyze, and argue, and their dreams. I care about their self-esteem, their days, their fears, and the fact that the sucker they ate at break turned their lips blue. When I do have time for my friends and family, it is spent praising or ranting about school. I'm so lucky to have friends and family that are willing to listen. Most of them are teachers any way. When I am not teaching, planning, or thinking about school, I'm sitting in a grad class or on my couch working on grad school homework. Am I getting my master's degree to become a better teacher? Partially. However, what really motivated me was the money. I had this plan:
Teacher for six months. Begin my master's. Finish my master's within two and a half years. Begin National Boards. Finish National Boards within a year.
That plan was great. I mean, I had to teach for three years before I was allowed to go for my National Boards, so finishing my master's in that time worked well. That was until it was decided that National Boards would take three years instead of one. Guys, I could have my Ph.D. by then. Do I want my doctorate? No. I want to stay in the classroom and work with kids. However, if I am going to spend three years working on something to become a better teacher and for higher pay, why not go for the highest degree? All to receive a salary that I could actually get right now in Alabama.
Hey, I'm a teacher who just finished her second year. I love my job and my kids. I love their random questions and stories, even when they don't make any sense. My seventh graders drive me insane, but they are my world.
Some people say that I just need to budget better. The biggest bill I pay is my car note. Excuse me for graduating college and feeling like I deserve a car. I bought a house because the payments were cheaper than any rent around here. I have an iPhone. Could I get a different phone with a cheaper plan? Not if you expect me to check and reply to my emails, text messages, and phone calls throughout the day, not even thinking about posting/checking grades when you see me Dollar General and want to know how Bobby did on his test. After paying for my car, house, cellphone, water, electricity, gas, and solid waste, I barely have enough for gas and food. I make it though. I'm still eating like a college kid: soup (because ramen noodles have way to many carbs and calories), water, apples, and poptarts. Peanut Butter and Jelly out of a Goober's jar when I'm feeling fancy. I may buy an outfit every once and awhile or go out with friends after a long, hard week. I'm your average young, American twenty-year old girl.
I made the effort to go through college and make good grades in three and a half years in my home state. I work hard in my home state. I pay my bills and taxes in my home state. Why does my home state balk at paying me what I'm worth?
Here's a warning, Mississippi. Soon, the teachers who can retire, will. The new, young teachers who are full of spirit and hope will leave to find better lives and options. You will be left with some good teachers, some terrible teachers, and some just mediocre teachers. You get what you pay for.
I'm going to continue to teach to the best of my ability. Like I said, I love my kids, my community, and my home state. Alabama's coast is looking pretty good, though. Pretty good, indeed.
Excuse any mistakes in this blog. I have a stress migraine and don't feel like editing at the moment.
Yours,
Chelsea
Monday, January 27, 2014
Trickling Thoughts
Monday, January 6, 2014
16,761, 600
I'm sure you're wondering what that number hanging over the top of this post signifies. According to convertunits.com, it is the approximate amount of seconds that has passed since the split. A lot can happen in 16, 761, 600 seconds, or 194 days...or heck, let's just call it six months!
I don't know when it happened or what caused it. Was it on a smoky dance floor, surrounded by friends and strangers, teaching some gangly cowboy how to do "the ratchet" as my friends looked on with laughter on their faces? Was it the the sun beating on my shoulders, Malibu on my lips, sand between my toes, and waves crashing in the background? Could it have been a stranger offering to buy me coffee at the 929? Was it losing my temper, letting the wind rock me in my hammock, long, late night conversation with Meagan, Amy getting engaged (whooop, whooop!), or my mother's relentless efforts to hook me up with her physical therapist? A part of it could be spending Christmas Eve ice skating with Meagan and being happy, even though it was the first Christmas Eve in four years that you haven't attended with the guy you thought you were going to marry. It could have been day after day, week after week, month after month, of seeing important questions going ignored and waiting by a window for a boy who'd never show. It most likely was going to a New Year's Eve party and seeing a friend get engaged and other friends with their husbands, fiances, and boyfriends.
Close your eyes. Imagine brick walls, wooden floor, club/cafe lighting. Long tables along the wall, chairs pulled close around, some in circles, a band in the background with a barefooted wild child singing with a tambourine. A newly engaged couple dancing on the floor, the girl's head thrown back in laughter with her eyes closed as her fiance spins her around, eyes focused on her, only her, as if she is his lifeline. The girl who usually seems so independent is toasting the New Year and kissing her husband while sitting in his lap with while he pulls her close. Another friend is in the shadows, laughing with a new guy with an easy smile as he flirts with her. Other strangers twirl around the dance floor, kiss, toast, hug; everyone is celebrating this new year, bright with opportunities and a chance to let go. The person you've been holding on to isn't beside you; they didn't care whether you wanted them there or not. As you observe all of the people around you, you make eye contact with someone. They smile.
Hope. Letting go. Moving on. Deciding. Breathing. Dreaming.
Butterflies.
I'm not saying it's going to be easy from here on out. I'm not saying I met my soul mate and was whisked off into the sunset, because I wasn't. This wasn't because of some boy or angry fight. It was all because of love.
They say you don't know what you have until you let it go. I'm saying, you don't know what you were missing until it's staring you in the face. There's nothing wrong with seeing how a guy treats his girl and wanting your guy to treat you like that. There's nothing wrong with wanting someone who holds your hand, wants to come with you (no matter where you want to go), and makes you feel special every day, no matter how long you've been together.
No...there's nothing wrong with that.
So, here's to the new year! A year of blog posts, laughter, new experiences, random adventures, and, if the Lord sees fit....love.
See ya next time kiddos,
Chelsea Leann
For your viewing pleasure, some snaps from the past 16, 761, 600 seconds.
