My dreams set themselves to music.
My search for a new teaching gig is stretching on into the first week of the new school year – not unusual here in New Orleans, where historically, a lot of teachers simply don’t show up for the new year, and where, with the shifting charter landscape and open enrollment, enrolments can fluctuate wildly, necessitating additional staff.
In my three years here I can count over 30 some schools I have worked at either full time or as a substitute, many I wouldn’t ever want to work at again as a sub, let alone full-time. There are others that friends of mine work at that I also would not want to work at, then some others that virtually nobody wants to work at.
But as the year gets under way, I may not have the option of being picky.
I have this recurring dream that a school I absolutely don’t want to teach at calls and offers me my ‘dream job’ of preferred grades and subjects. This has happened most every night for the past few weeks, with a different school every night and musical accompaniment.
Tell me your dreams don’t come with a soundtrack.
Just imagine the name of the school I don’t want to work at is ‘Indiana’, and flashback to your car dashboard A.M. radio, circa 1975, and you’ll understand why I wake up in a cold sweat with R. Dean Taylor’s voice and school-specific lyrics running through my head:
“Indiana wants me, Lord I can’t go back there
Indiana wants me, Lord I can’t go back there…”
Like insert the school I was at a few years ago, now defunct, F.W. Gregory: “Gregory school they want me, Lord I can’t go back there! Gregory school they want, me…Lord I can’t go back there…”
“..red lights are flashing around me
yeah love, it looks like they found me…
the alternative school wants me!
Lord I can’t go back there…”
Wait. Your dreams don’t choose their own soundtrack? Eh! Just forget we had this conversation.