Just Call Me Alice
I think my name is Alice, and I live in Wonderland.
Several days ago, I was told by the state that I am not a highly qualified teacher.
This morning, moments after the school day began, the principal appeared at my door. “Can I see you for a minute?” he said.
I assigned some independent math practice to my students, stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me.
“I’d like to appoint you to be the lead teacher for the special ed department,” the principal said.
My jaw dropped. “Why?” I asked.
“Because you know what you’re doing and you’re doing a fine job,” he said.
“But,” I sputtered, “I’m not highly qualified.”
“The state. Speaking of which, I’d like to know when the administrators are going to get together to figure out my fate and the fate of the other special ed teachers.”
“We had a meeting about that last night.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. You’re not going to lose your job. So, are you going to accept my offer or not?”
I’m still a non-highly qualified teacher in the state’s eyes, but in my principal’s eyes, I’m competent enough to head the middle school’s special ed department.
I’m sure my name is Alice, and I live in Wonderland.