Just a T.O.Y.

Apparently, there is some compensation for over-worked teachers. Last week I was nominated for teacher of the year. Before you congratulate me, you should know that this award is really less prestigious than it sounds. First of all, it only took one fellow teacher to write my name on a sheet of paper and place it in a box. So the fact that there are just six nominated teachers says less about the honor of being on this short-list and more about the lazy, apathetic nature of teachers in mid-April. Secondly, being teacher of the year doesn't result in any kind of pay raise or other material reward (although, I wouldn't be surprised if it came with a coupon for a complimentary Chick-fil-A sandwich). To be fair, I should mention that the winner does get his or her designated parking spot for the entirety of next school year; however, as this spot is farther away than where I normally park anyway, it would turn out to be something of a detriment. Lastly, the elected teacher of the year gets the opportunity to write a five page essay, presumably about what it takes to be the best teacher at the school. Don't get me wrong, I like writing, but as evidenced by the scant number of entries in this blog, I don't really have time for extra work. So, not unlike Richard Pryor's character in Brewster's Millions, I've been campaigning against victory, encouraging my colleagues to vote for none of the above. Because voting for someone for teacher of the year is kind of like asking a friend to be in your wedding party. It seems like a tremendous honor, but really it's a costly inconvenience. Cheer me on to defeat, friends!

This entry (and blog) is meant to be humorous and (possibly) satirical. In reality, I feel honored and humbled even to be nominated for this award, to see my name alongside some really, really great teachers. I feel like I have a long way to go just to be mentioned for something like this, and I think it would be really silly if I were to actually win. But, despite having to write a five page essay and to walk a little further to and from my car, I would be thrilled to be a T.O.Y.