Wake up in the morning, feeling shy and lonely; gee, I gotta go to school…

A while ago I was discussing with my friend Alex how television shows from America feature people who look like models, whilst shows from the UK, Australia, and (for the most part) Canada tend to have people who look like, well, people. Okay, so really we were discussing Queer As Folk UK, or as Alex would have it, The One With The Ugly People.

Case in point: I recently watched some of the first season of Degrassi Junior High with a friend,  and a few weeks ago I bought my own copy. I’ve been watching with mingled joy and horror. Joy, because this is like reclaiming every afternoon after school between the ages of nine and thirteen, and horror, because the first season is woefully (but wonderfully) bad. I’m not sure if it actually will get better, or if my memory is just really faulty and it sucked all along.

For the record – you know a television show has taken realism too far when THIS is The Pretty Girl Who All The Boys Want.

She’s missing a tooth (and possibly a chromosome), for fuck’s sake! Show me one school in the world where someone with a GIANT HOLE IN HER FACE would be considered The Pretty Girl. Ah well, Caitlin was always my favourite, anyway.

As most of you know, I’m working in a school at the moment. I won’t say which one, for fear of drawing the wrath of Google and Education Queensland down from on high, but my job is… eclectic, to say the least. I believe my official title is Behaviour Support Coordinator, but my role is in flux. I’m not sure what it will be next term, or what my duties will be. I’m largely getting to make it up as I go along. My main role is working with the kids who get kicked out of class, helping them renegotiate their way back in and repairing their relationships with the teachers, but so far I’ve also broken up six fistfights, mediated arguments between bitchy, backstabbing teenaged girls, counselled kids on everything from self harm, careers, sexuality, relationships, friendships, grief and loss, divorce, eating disorders (there’s a big dance program at school. What a surprise there’d be an ED problem!), helped with homework and assignments, taught a kid to play I Will Follow You Into The Dark on the ukulele, had a jam session with six guitars, patched up skinned knees and taught a dozen teachers new behaviour management techniques. In a few weeks I’m going on the Yr 8 camp, I’ve been volunteered as Props Master for the school musical (The Wizard Of Oz) and I’m helping the school nurse and chaplain run a Young Women’s Group next term.

I’ve had a few kids tell me that I’m the best thing about school for them, including one boy who told me I was like John Keating from Dead Poets Society (I’ve chosen to assume that he meant I had inspired him to look at the world differently, not that I looked like Robin Williams). I go to work smiling every day; whistling, even, like a Disney dwarf. I’m not worn out by the work; on Friday I’m just as fresh as Monday. Heck, by Sunday, I’m bored and ready to go back to work again to see my munchkins. There are so many upsides to this job – I get school holidays off, and I only work 30 hours a week. I don’t have to leave my house until 8:30 (but I usually leave earlier so I can chat to my munchkins before class), and I can be home by 3:20 (but I usually leave later so I can chat to my munchkins after class). The money’s not great, but I don’t care much about money, so long as I have enough to live on. I’ve never gotten stuck in traffic, despite having to drive straight through the city in the middle of peak hour; for some reason the traffic lanes part for me like Moses through the Red Sea.

Now. I’ve had a job offer from a large youth network. A damn good offer; I didn’t apply for the job, they sought me out. Car, laptop, phone, national and international travel, state-level management position, about twice as much as I’m currently being paid. It’s a good career move, as opposed to this job, which was me giving myself a break for a while after a tough time last year. I can do it, sure. I’d even be good at it. Would I like it? Probably.

But I won’t like it as much as I like my school. Nowhere near as much. Direct work with kids will drop from 100% down to about 10 – 15%. Red tape and paperwork will multiply a billionfold. I’ll be away from home a fair bit, and it will be significantly more stressful. But here’s the rub; my contract with the school is only for another three months, and I don’t yet know if it is going to be able to be renewed. It doesn’t hinge on how good a job I do or don’t do; Ed. QLD isn’t paying for my position, the school itself is, and it had to scrape together the money for the six month contract in the first place. They’re going to try to get the money together to extend it, but can’t make any promises.

Am I crazy for wanting to turn the offer down and stay at my school for as long as possible? Or was my time at my school just meant to be short and sweet, a nice memory of an awesome, but brief moment in time?

I’m going to a Roller Derby game in a few weeks with my shiny new Tim. What would my Roller Derby name be? Nothing too obvious, people; ‘Dominatrix’ is a gimme.

LISTENING TO:

Never Tear Us Apart – INXS