The rumors have been swirling, and yesterday the news was made official-- pink slips are coming to my school.
Damn you, crappy economy.
The details are painfully vague and have been tempered with 'but no one knows for sure yet'. From what I understand, my department is 'overstaffed' (funny, I could have sworn I have almost forty students in two of my classes...), and our district needs to cut somewhere between one and seven million dollars next year. My department head let it slip yesterday that one of us is getting the ax.
In the world of education, tenure does the talking. It doesn't matter that I have great reviews; all that matters is that I am among the lowest on the proverbial totem pole. If this all happens the way I think it will, I have a one in three chance of losing my job.
On my drive home tonight checked my 'Woman in her Thirties' meter for a way in which to deal with the situation:
1. Storm into my principal's office, tears brimming, and demand that he tell me my job is safe. No, I ultimately decided. I think I did something like that when I was thirteen when the family next door hired a different babysitter for their annual holiday party. Too emotional, and it didn't work.
2. Have a party this weekend to celebrate my coming unemployment, and spend the next month as the layoffs roll out showing R-Rated films to my classes and napping in the back of the classroom.
Tempting, but no. This is definitely something I did (and helped many friends do) in my twenties. Just because I BS'd my way through my job in college doesn't mean I should do it now.
3. Cross that bridge when I come to it.
Damn you, woman in her thirties sensibility.