frustration, free stores

Still on Hornby.  A nice little island.  It’s been the Glenda, Gloria and me.

“”I don’t think you could be a Hornbyite,” said the Glenda while we were at the Co-op.

“Huh?” I said, as I got her attention so she could see the joke glasses I put on.

“You’re mind is too busy.”

True.  I don’t really have the mellow Hornby vibe.

At the pub tonight we had a lovely buffet roast beef dinner – thank you, The Glenda.  There were a few tall men with dread locks there and lots of middle-agish folks.

“Tall and dread-locked is a theme here,” I said.

“Have another pickle,” said the Glenda.

There was some nice live smooth jazz too.

Hmmm.  ELI at UBC was indeed hiring some people for the fall term of the Intensive English Program and we were all sent out e-mails to ask if we were interested. Is the Pope Catholic.

Is he, is he.

He is.

Well, it seems that zillions of people applied – go figure – and so they took all the Masters of TESOL people because, according to the collective agreement, this is something they should do.  And so many to pick from.

Sigh.  Now fair enough my UBC boss didn’t know there would be such a great crop of Masters folks to pick from and I get that.  But i think it would have been better not to have had the idea of work there in the fall offered at all.

I have been teaching for mroe than 13 years, and about 6 of those as not too bad of a teacher.  I am fully and utterly qualified. I taught lots of short programs this year at UBC, including the notoriously difficult Explore program.  But hey, it’s Vancouver and everyone and their dog is looking for a job.

I’m unsure yet again what to do.  I can start work on the expensive Masters but won’t finish realistically for at least 3 years.  UBC might have work in short programs in the summer next year or not or who knows.  Short programs only run Jan-March and June-Sept. and they didn’t really need anyone except for 3 weeks in August this year.  So can I live on 3 weeks a year?  Ha.  ha.  And the Masters wouldn’t guarantee aa thing, not a thing.  Sigh.  And then ageism starts coming into play, says the Glenda, get the Masters now, she says.  She’s right, she knows.

I’m trying not to go through my usual ticked off cycle about this because I knew the deal going in.  Uh well.

And so now . . . .back to the drawing board it seems.  Maybe a downtown school will be hiring but the summer is over so who knows.

Am I a better teacher than I was a year ago when I was laid off from the corporation?  Absolutely.  Am I more confident?  Absolutely.  And those are great things.  Probably wouldn’t trade them to be stagnant where I was. 

And yet . . . I’m frustrated. Let us not dangle a carrot people, when the carrot needs a Masters.  Or something like that.

Hornby has a great free store, something said to be unique amongst the Gulf Islands – it is at the recycling depot.  Hornby is very green indeed –

I’ve been scoring free New Yorkers, even a new Walrus.  It’s getting a little crazy and I will have a heavy load to take home.  There are clothes, electronics and all sorts.  Free.

It’s up a big hill to get there and down a big hill to get back.  A woman gave me a ride both ways, on the way back all the to the Glenda’s.  ‘Down Gunpowder Trail, I think,” I said.  She came in for awhile and chatted with the Glenda and Gloria.  Tis the Hornby way me thinks.

Time for bed and off to read a magazine or two and then I can return them to the free store before I leave on Sunday morning.  Tis the cycle of life.


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