Resume

Every once in a while which means about every third day in this job, I reconsider my career choice and think about trying to find a job in the real world, the private sector, the jungle, the place in this world where you actually have to perform to avoid getting shit-canned. It's this last factor that usually slaps me back to my senses and keeps me from throwing away 12 weeks of annual paid free time. That and one other factor, that is.

Once you've been a teacher for a number of years, it becomes near impossible to create a resume that won't be tacked to some business's lunchroom wall for the comedic delight of the workers. ("Look Bob! It really does say, Developed more efficient ways to pass back tests papers by pre-alphabetizing.' We gotta get Personnel on this guy before Microsoft swoops in and snatches him first!") I've been at this teaching crap for almost 20 years, and I don't know if I possess one skill that a potential non-education employer might find intriguing. I've looked for years in the classifieds for a position in "Cracking Wise," but so far I've had no luck.

I will admit that, about eight years ago, I did get so disgusted with teaching that I answered an ad for a copy editor position for the American Society of Microbiologists. If that isn't too funny of a joke, well, that's because it isn't one. There really is a society of said scientists, and they really do have multiple professional journals, and they really do publish their findings in scintillating articles filled with 20-letter words (made up mostly of consonants), and they really do have people who edit those journals for absolute correctness, and, perhaps most surprising of all, they really did offer Ned Bitters a job.

I somehow passed a rather tedious editing exam that was mailed to me, then I somehow snagged an interview. The amazing streak of somehows continued as I bullshitted them into thinking I'd be the ideal man to make sure that all those 20-letter words were spelled correctly. I came this close to taking a pay cut and trying my hand at a real job downtown. The urge to walk out of my school for good on Nov. 30 was almost unbearable. However, while inspecting the fine print of their contract, I could not any combination of the words "summers" and "off," so I broke my own heart and declined the offer.

I can't imagine ever trying to create another resume that I could send to an employer in the real world. I know all about the power language you're supposed to use on a resume, and last winter, when I was creating a resume for another teaching job in another state, I managed to make my slacker self sound like the second coming of Sidney Poitier in that 60s British teacher movie where he inspires all the low-class cockney kids to greatness and almost bangs the blond chick with the nice legs. The fact that he doesn't (bang the blond chick, that is) makes it a 4 ½ -star effort instead of a solid 5. Pussy.

What might a teacher's resume look like? How could I somehow translate my complete lack of any skills or talents into a stunning paper display of "Holy Shit, let's get this crackerjack whippersnapper in there today! Ms. Dickinson, please start clearing out an office for Mr. Bitters so that he can start work right after the perfunctory interview." Let me take a stab at trying to turn some of the resume power language to my advantage.

GOAL
To obtain a sinecure enabling me to drink nightly, work hungover and enjoy nine straight weeks of decadence every summer. Oh, and I ain't workin' over the Christmas holidays neither.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS
Implemented efficient new grading system in which busy work issued on a hangover day is tossed into the trash after every period.

Improvised time-saving planning system in which not one single solitary official lesson plan is ever actually put on paper.

Spearheaded the daily rush to be the first teacher in his/her car at the end of each school day, shunning extra-curricular activities in an attempt to be shaking that first vodka martini by 3 p.m.

Consolidated work desk, computer desk, file cabinet, mini-fridge and microwave so that all are accessible from rolling chair, enabling me to sit on my lazy ass for up to three hours at a time.

Authorized substitute teachers to show wildly inappropriate videos during my bi-monthly absences..

Eliminated any trace of dedication, pride, and self-worth as an employee.

Reorganized my drinking habits so that I could drink the same amount yet also get more sleep each night, creating the illusion of vigor and good health during the work day.

Integrated completely unrelated personal anecdotes into classroom instruction in an effort to kill time by making kids laugh instead of facing the drudgery of actual teaching the curriculum.

Identified early in each school year those parents who were potentially the most troublesome, evaluated how best to handle them, then schmoozed and gladhanded (not exactly resume power terms, but certainly effective business skills, I bet) the nosey Nellies into leaving me alone.

Documented the daily absurdities perpetrated by teachers and students for use in a vicious, angry, bitter column.

So you see, any resume I'd send in to any other American Society of Boring-assed Scientists probably wouldn't set off any headhunters' "must-have" radar. Let me see ... did I forget anything? Oh yeah ...

Calculated the last possible minute at which I could get each of my columns in on time to the taskmaster hobo who runs this site with an iron bindle stick.

Ned Bitters teaches high school and dreams of one day seeing one of his former students on stage at a strip club. You can contact him at teacherslounge@hobotrashcan.com.