Too Much

As those of you who have lived the adjunct life know, working at two or three schools is not much more difficult than working at one. Adjuncts teach the same limited courses everywhere, so the prep tends to be minimal, and the material is already familiar. This does not apply when mixing levels.

I love teaching, so I look for some education work I could perform during the first six-week summer session, when I had no college courses. Right before my second-session courses started up, one of the places to which I had applied offered me a tutoring job. I said that I love teaching, right? I had done SAT prep before, and it was not too bad. This place was willing to pay me on a W-2 instead of the usual (illegal) 1099, and the people who run it are good folks.

I got a Saturday-only schedule to teach an eight-week English class to 8th and 9th graders (three whole students!) and two students for four weeks of private tutoring. The day was 9-5 with an hour for lunch, and the pay was not bad, though at the low end of the scale. No prep, I was told. I would not need to do anything outside of my class time. Dubious, I still took the company at its word. That was a mistake. The one day there was causing more stress and requiring more of my time than my college work. Once the private tutoring was done, I was to lead a pair of reading groups (6/7 and 8/9 for grade levels) that were to last eight weeks. That sounded fantastic—and still does, truth be told—but the time commitment was immense. I would have to prep diverse readings, which I had a free hand in selecting, for two groups each week, and that was just burying me.

I quit after two Saturdays.

The greatest good that came from my quitting involved stepping far out on a limb. One of my students was reading words incorrectly, so I asked him if the letters sometimes seemed out of order. They do. Oh my! Here was a boy getting ready for his junior year in high school, and he may have dyslexia or a similar, quite treatable, reading problem, yet I, someone untrained (and I was clear about this not only with him but with his mother) to diagnose or treat such a problem, was the first to ask whether any problem might exist. I suppose I was emboldened by knowing it was my last day, as sad as it may be to admit that. At least, and this is to the students great credit, he asked what he could do. Now I just hope his mother will follow through.