It's about that simple. I make one wrong move, and he's like all angry and weird. He treats people like shit. We never know what to expect, and things change constantly. We're not stockbrokers, for godsakes, we're teachers. There is no real reason to describe it all: intimidation and manipulation, that's it. What's so complicated?I'm over there trying to help other people hold themselves together because they feel like shit, too. Somehow the staff is phenomenal, but Voldemort has favorites, enemies, and folks in-between. I am in-between because I bug him and I ask questions. He has me in a training - a three-year program - that I have had before (I should be doing one year at the most because I am at a new grade level), and just 'dug in his heels' when I showed him the credentials. It is infuriating to train to be a more effective and compassionate teacher whilst being shat on.
I keep using the word shit. Hmmm. Maybe something about my boss reminds me of excrement. Yes, I think that must be it.
He refused to discuss the redundancy of my being re-trained, and forbade me from discussing it with anyone else. I have no idea if the administrator I trusted to be confidential let it slip, and so I'm in a sorta no-win situation with her, too. I can't ask her if she slipped because she'll tell him I did if she did. How utterly stupid. And shitty.
So I advised a few of the younger folks who are really down on themselves to try "voodoo" dolls. I knew someone who had a horrid boss and an artist-friend made her a so-called voodoo doll, and yes I know true voodoo is something totally different. Nevertheless, the suggestion was meant to cheer them up, and it did. It's plain wrong for a young and talented teacher to blame herself because she cannot continue to speak up after so many of her ideas have been sot down. Really shitty, like bad diarrhea.
Anyway I am totally angry at myself for spending so much time worrying about Voldemort and even find myself worrying about what I say here because I am like paranoid which is probably the point, or something. I know that he has told numerous people that I am a "wonderful teacher." How does that help me when , in person, he is somehow disordered, either happily praising me or telling me he can't talk to me for even a moment? And then I feel happy when he's nice to me. Egad it hurts, but it's true. Sooo shitty, like I stepped in it and it's ruining my shoes. (I'll kill the metaphor if I want to - it's my shitty blog!)
People in my life have all sorts of opinions about this and mainly I hafta stay where I am for another school year unless a dream job pops up this week. Since I do not have a fairy godmother, or, alternatively, a license in special education, I will hafta try to avoid Satan. I'm telling you, though, The Big Shit scares me.
