I don’t know about other teachers, but I rarely get excited about an email that’s titled “Upcoming Professional Development Opportunities.” It could be that I’m the anomaly here. My heart doesn’t race, I don’t giggle involuntarily, and I don’t get dizzy with anticipation. Well, I don’t do any of those things anyway, but I wanted to make sure you know I don’t do that either when that email pops up.
So I open the email, and on it is a long list of the “opportunities” of which the school would like me to avail myself. I especially like the list that says “MANDATORY” at the top. That usually means I’m in for a rollicking good time, attending a MANDATORY opportunity. It means that underqualified people from my district are going to tell me how to improve my classroom teaching. It's nice to get instruction from someone who couldn't wait to leave the classroom.
I scan the list and notice that one of them will probably apply to me – Writing for English I and II teachers. Okay, technically I’m not an English teacher, but my classes do fall under the Language Arts “rainbow.” Most likely I’m going to have to attend this one, so I glance over at the date. It’s tomorrow, after school for about 3 hours. That means I was sent an email to attend MANDATORY training opportunity less than 24 hours before said training happens.
“Register in Eduphoria,” it says. Grinding my teeth in rage, I open up Eduphoria, the program that's supposed to be a repository of data, scheduling and all sorts of stuff most of us don't care about. I'm angry that the school has basically destroyed my plans for the next afternoon.
Why should I register, though? I mean, if it’s MANDATORY, shouldn’t they register me themselves to make sure I go? But that would probably make it less of an opportunity for me.
Except that this MANDATORY session isn’t in Eduphoria. Probably someone from the administration should’ve checked first.
I’ll spend tomorrow afternoon grading and looking at cat GIFs.