There Will Be Grit

An oyster needs a speck of grit to make a pearl.

It's no secret that this blog has been largely neglected for the past four years. During that time, I've taught college writing—and, despite the nationwide handwriting over the state of students' literacy, I didn't feel the compulsion to write under the veil of my pseudonym. There was no grit.

But suddenly I find myself preparing to teach high school English once again—and I find myself compelled to blog. Let me explain.

About two months ago, we relocated to southern Florida for my husband's career. Five months of job applications to college, universities, public schools, private schools, and charter schools yielded two interviews: one with a public high school in an up-and-coming (read: crummy) district, and another with a college preparatory school. I only attended the latter, and I accepted a teaching position there. I won't be teaching college, but surely this is the next best thing.

I've spent the past few weeks reading and planning for the coming school year, and I'm genuinely excited for the new challenges I'll face.

Except.

Except that some of the emails I've received from the department chair have me reaching for the Alka Seltzer. She uses cautionary phrases such as "I don't want any repercussions," "Work with the other teachers so the kids don't teacher shop," "A differentiation is fine, but a large discrepancy asks for trouble," and passing references to parents' happiness (and thus silence).

Plop plop, fizz fizz.

I had almost forgotten that my reputation doesn't precede me here, that students aren't forewarned when registering for my classes, that these parents are likely to earn the moniker of "helicopter parents."

I had almost forgotten that I'll be doing much more than teaching. I'll also be blogging.