All RIFFed up and nowhere to go

I knew something was up when my boss showed up in my classroom and said we needed to talk. First thing that ran through my mind was that a student or parent had complained about me—every first-year teacher’s nightmare. I’d noticed his somber demeanor and wondered if my job was in jeopardy. It was, but not for the reasons I thought.

Later, when we had a chance to meet privately, I’d already figured it out. I was being “RIFFED” (a term describing the act of an employee receiving a pink slip—aka “Reduction In Force” notice).

I was a little surprised, only because there had been no prior indication, although I knew enrollment in our district was down and that SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE was going to get the dreaded pink slip. And I’m low on the seniority list (like fourth from the bottom). I’d seen the enrollment numbers for my classes next fall and they looked good. So, yes, I was a little surprised, but not entirely.

The funny thing is how it played on my emotions. I’ve been employed since my daughter was a baby (she’s now 20). On some base level, there’s a feeling of rejection, no matter how fiscally justifiable a lay-off is.

I was surprised at how sad I felt. Sad at the prospect of not having my own classroom. Sad that I might not have the opportunity to build on my curriculum and hone the skills I’d learned this year. Sad about missing the kids (yes, really!). Sad for the students who are excited for next year’s activities and who might not get a chance to do them. Sad that we still have another year to pay my daughter’s college tuition. Sad that we might have to cancel our 30th wedding anniversary plans.

Of course, I will say nothing to the students since there is still the possibility of things turning around. Besides, why burden them with my job issues?

Walking into class the next day, I had a new appreciation for my students. What if I don’t get to teach next year? I will miss those annoying, funny, energetic--did I mention annoying?--human beings. As if to underscore the tender emotions springing up in my heart, one of my students pulled me aside to say, “Thank you.” For what? I asked. “For pushing me to present in class this year. I didn’t want to do it, but you pushed me and it helped me get my senior presentation done. So, thanks.” I’ll admit that comment made my day. Something I did in the classroom actually mattered to someone.

My boss said that if he were a betting man, there’s about a 50% chance of my being re-hired this summer. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s this: expect the worst and hope for the best. Having that kind of attitude may explain why my family members say I’m a pessimist. I prefer to call it being pragmatic.

Even when dealing with the thought of cancer recurring, I don’t allow myself to think it can’t happen again. I try not to dwell on it, but I know that I’m nobody special and if a recurrence can happen to someone else, it can happen to me.

And so it goes with being RIFFed.

I haven’t had much time to ponder my situation. There are too many papers to grade, lesson plans to finish, follow-up appointments with oncologists, and one ultrasound coming up. It all rolls into one big ball of uncertainty and prayers for God’s mercy.

Yep, I’m all RIFFed up with nowhere to go. Something tells me that’s just where I’m supposed to be. 

Comments

[DebD]

wow, that's a big deal. Praying.