|My dad is not this dude.|
i know this part is very confusing to everyone on earth, including me, so I am going to make an attempt to explain something here that I think is pretty stupid.
My teaching certificate is a LBS1, which means I am licensed to teach children in special education who are ages 3 to 21. But in reality, it only allows me to teach K through 5. You need extra letters of approval (read: More college credits and tests) to teach pre-school, middle school, or high school. Somehow I never knew this until after I completed half of my student teaching in an early childhood classroom, My professor told me, "You're really good with this age group and this may be something you want to pursue. But you can't do it... your 3 to 21 license is only good for K-5." Huh?
To teach preschool in a public school, I need 4 specific extra classes that are Early Childhood Education classes.
To be a teacher in a day care center, my teacher's certificate means diddly-squat, but you can be a lead teacher if you have at least 60 college credit hours including 6 Early Childhood Education credits. So a person with a Bachelors or even a Masters in education would not be as qualified as a person in their second year of Early Childhood Ed classes at the community college.
So anyways, last night I was trying to explain to my dad that I probably cannot get another job after all, because of my weird credit hours. He didn't understand it and kept questioning why, if I had gone to school for four years, I could not get a teaching job of any sort, and why, after having that four years of schooling, I could specifically not qualify for a job in a preschool program or even a day care center. I kept trying to explain the concept to him.
Finally, he said, "You may need to find another line of work."
"What other line of work?" I demanded. "There is no other line of work for a teaching degree!"
My dad said, "I'm talking about Target or something."
I replied, "I don't want to work at Target! I want to be a teacher!"
My dad: "Well, I wanted to be a shortstop for the White Sox, but that doesn't mean it was something I'd ever be able to do."
Me: (Getting dangerously close to a meltdown): "That's not even close to the same thing. You didn't go to school to be a baseball player. You didn't do anything to work towards being a baseball player. I went through school to be a teacher."
Dad: "But obviously you're still not qualified to be one, so..."
Me: "You're mean! Even Mom wouldn't say that!"
Dad: "But she would think it."
At that point I took my Small Dog and stormed out of the house. But then I stormed back in five minutes later. It is difficult to storm out when you live in the same house as someone and it is ten degrees outside and you don't want your Small Dog to freeze. So I just took my Small Dog and went to bed, fuming mad and furious and upset and very sad.
To his credit (or discredit) he may have been drunk at the time... he had just come home from the friendly neighborhood bar where everybody knows his name and they're always glad he came. But, still. To compare my wanting to be a teacher, with his wanting to be a White Sox player? WTF?
(And then there's that tiny voice in my brain saying of course he's probably right. Many of the people I was in classes with in college had no trouble finding college jobs. They had confidence. They had poise. They were neat and organized and mature. They weren't a walking, talking tornado, which is what I am. But I digress...)