I spent way too much time this week having a pity party for myself.
But every single time someone asks me what I do for a living, another small part of me dies.
"I'm a teacher," I tell them.
"Oh, really? Where?" they always ask.
"Well," I hesitate, "that's a good question."
It's nearly August, and the only interview I've had was in a district that won't hire me because I'm too educated. I'm getting devastatingly close to another year of subbing, and it breaks my heart because I want my own classroom so badly!
So there were some tears. And there was some sulking.
And then Rachel came over last night, and we made guacamole and lowfat peanut butter banana bread. We watched Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion with Tom (because Rachel had never seen it, and an intervention was necessary). And even though it's not exactly a thought-provoking movie, it reminded me that the relationships I have in my life are way more important than my job title or relationship status. I'm holding on to that thought today.
On a semi-related note, Saturday is National Dance Day, and since I am dedicated to celebrating all national holidays, I'm going to teach myself my part in this routine: