This week in ..stress.

They're doing it to me again. Taking me back out of my element. We got our assignments for next year and I'm going to be... drum roll please... TEACHING 5TH GRADE!

Tell us what she's won!

A trip straight to my principal's office. I only managed to utter something about it being okay if I shut his door before he started in with, "Let me explain--"

But it was too late. I was already hysterical. For the record, Parker is a cool principal. He was my boss when I taught kindergarten and totally had my back. I'm sure he took a lot of flack for that, amusing year that it was. And by amusing I mean completely INSANE.

Anyway, he pointed out that I'd be working with a great team (and he's completely right-- some of the best names in the district are gonna be teaching 5th grade), and that I'd be out there with him as principal again. Which is a big plus.

Not stopping me from leaving no stone unturned whilest looking for a new library job. I've changed jobs 7 times in 6 years down there. I'm tired of being a first year teacher.. I get to do it every damn year and it's OLD. And I have to be really critical here: 7 jobs in 6 years screams either "we don't really have a place for you, but we're obligated to keep you because of the union" or "you suck. A lot. So we're going to keep you because we're obligated to because of the unions, but really, we'd really like you go away..."

This is where unions fail. I'd rather be laid off than this bullshit.

I know, I know, cry me a river, at least you have a job. But I hear so much about quality education meaning that you have the right people in the right seats on the bus, and I don't belong in the teacher seat. I belong in the media specialist seat. Too bad no one believes in them anymore. They're filling them with reading specialists instead. So they can drill kids on the skills until they hate reading instead of giving them something they might fall in love with and read because they want to. They'd develop those skills on their own instead of having someone shove it down their throat, but you know, what do I know about reading. I'm just a librarian.

I have a random idea that I think is brilliant and that I think I can really sell, but I think that, because of budget cuts, won't fly. (WTF with the budget cuts, Snyder? I knew it was going to be bad when you took office. Thanks for not disappointing.) But I'm a jaded optimist. I like to hope that I can make a difference somewhere.

And then, on Wednesday, I learned that my sticky clutch on the Jetta car is a bad clutch and needs to be replaced for the low/low price of $800 (better than the dealership that wants between $1400 and $2300).

So now I'm looking into modifying a loan so I can get a new(er) car. I love my jetta, but at 300,000 miles, I'm guessing this is where everything's going to start going wrong. So I'm thinking Honda Civic Hybrid, another Jetta TDI, or a Prius. But the Prius highway gas mileage isn't that great. It's more of a save-you-a-hell-of-a-lot-of-gas-in-town-kinda-car. I'm leaning toward another Jetta TDI or a Civic Hybrid. Kind of exciting but scary at the same time. We were thinking we'd have to not do the Australia trip, but maybe we still could if I can modify this loan...

I have the letter written. Now I just have to make sure it's right. Here it is in all its unedited glory (with internet safety in mind):

Dear... I don’t know your name yet. I’m sorry.

I hope this letter finds you, and finds you well.

I’m going off advice about how to write a letter to a birth parent. So this is going to sound formal and lousy. It’s my fourth letter draft and it’s taken me two months just to get this far. I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting... I’m not going to offer any excuses; none are good enough.

My name ended up being Nic---. And we just learned a couple years ago that I was born on December 9, 1974. Before that we thought it was the 7th. Afterall, that’s what was on the reissued birth certificate. I think someone wrote a sloppy 9. Anyway, I’m your daughter. (this form is stupid. I’m sure you’ve picked up on who I am by now.)

I’m writing strictly out of curiosity. I’m not ill, in fact, I’m one of the healthiest people I know. I’m out of shape, though, but I’m working on it. That’s beside the point, anyway. You should know I never had a day in my life that I felt abandoned or otherwise was offended by the choices you made. My adoptive parents always pointed out that you loved me enough to let me go and the decision you made was probably (hopefully) the hardest you would ever have to make in a lifetime. That’s my current view on the whole thing, too. You have nothing but my utmost respect. I am thankful for the life I’ve had and I give you a lot of credit for it.

I grew up living in ---- but going to ------ schools. I was right on the other side of the river from ----, up in the hills. I was an only child in my family, and we lived in a nice middle class neighborhood, and I had plenty of friends. I was bullied some, got beat up by baseballs playing little league, rode my bike without a helmet, and roller skated without pads-- all with reckless abandon (well, I didn’t actually ENJOY little league..). I even climbed trees without a net! (I’m sure you’re hearing how all of these things are utterly unacceptable now, right?) I graduated from --- in ’93 and went off to ---- (mostly because my parents wouldn’t let me go to Oregon for school-- always had a thing for the Pacific Northwest, not sure why). After the bachelor's, I ran off to Australia for 6 months to visit a friend. (We got to be more than friends and that’s why I have a 10-year-old now, but more on that later.) After that, I wasn’t sure what to do; student teaching had been a disaster and I lost my confidence. But after some tests and sound but strangely coincidental advice from some of my profs at school, I went and got my Masters’ of Ed (with a technology emphasis and library media endorsement) from ---- so I could be a school librarian. Too bad no one believes in school librarians anymore.. But I’m working on changing that, at least in the school district where I work. I’ve been there for four and a half years.

The ten year old (the short) says, “Hi my momma’s mother...” (He actually asked if I could put this in.)

I got married two years ago to a wonderful guy. He has an 11-year-old daughter. We all live in ----- (I really miss -----, but at least we have a local store like Trader Joe's, which a nice consolation prize). He works here in -- and I work in CW. I like reading, writing, and drawing, mountain biking and just about anything else outdoors (especially rock climbing, camping, hiking, swimming, and playing with my kids and greyhounds).

I guess all in all I’d like to get to know more about you and the rest of your family, if that would be okay. Stories and pictures would be fine if you’d rather I not meet them; I’m not picky. You’re welcome to share this with other people, too. I don’t want to sound demanding and like I’m trying to put a ton of stuff on you; I’ll go at whatever pace you are comfortable with.

I don’t know what all’s in it, but I have a neglected blog (sheepintrees.blogspot.com) and I’m on facebook (search for Nic---). You’re welcome to peruse those and even friend me, if you’d like. I don’t try to write anything offensive, so I hope you’ll read with an open mind. If you’d like to reach me by phone, my number is -----. You can catch me easily after 4 during the week and just about any time on the weekends. Sometimes I’m hesitant to answer my phone if I don’t recognize the number, but I’ll try to remember to ignore that urge. Otherwise, you can leave a message. We just got unlimited texting, too. Email is fine: ---- , and snail mail letters work great, as well. If the envelope tore, here’s my address again:

----

Please send me a quick message to let me know you got this. I’d really appreciate it.

With warmest regards,

nic

So that's that.

And that's all, really...