On the second-last day of term I was called up to the Head’s office for a mystery meeting; I was given no info about why I was going, only that it was “about nothing bad” and that I wasn’t in trouble. I figured that the only thing she might want to talk to me about was my contract status and lo and behold that was what she told me about – when she remembered why she actually wanted to talk to me.
So after three years in the job I will be permanently full-time. When she told me this I cannot say I was impressed, indeed I was decidedly unimpressed when she said I was being rewarded for doing a good job by being given the improved contract.
“Rewarded” for essentially being on a probationary period that lasted for THREE years? Rewarded by being given something that in most schools I might have been given after the first year? Rewarded for performing above the norm by being given something I earned long, long ago?
I felt so pissed off and insulted by her; I knew that I was going to go home and feel similarly in addition to feeling sad about MW#1, so after driving home I took myself into town for a spot of retail therapy.
Joy-of-joys I actually managed to find a bra that fits me and on sale too, and I managed to find not one but two dresses for my trip to Corsica. Hurrah.