Temp Job

Teachers where I come from are very well paid. The problem is that they are only paid for the days they actually work. While their daily rate is quite generous, the opportunities for work are limited to approximately 180 days per year. Compare this to other professions who work 240 to 250 days per year. A fair tradeoff exists between compensation and vacation, but some teachers would rather trade the vacation days for a little extra pay.

So what is the industrious teacher to do when a three week Christmas vacation is lurking just around the corner? He could take a seasonal job at the Christmas tree farm, but that would require him to work nights before the break actually begins. All the seasonal jobs are spoken for by the time school gets out. Without a friend or family member in a hiring position, a temporary Christmas job is probably not an option.

The solution to this dilemma hit me the other day as I sat in the comfort of my extra large SUV jammed full of kids and dogs. As I waited at a red light for my turn to enter the freeway, I glanced to my left and saw a man holding a cardboard sign. I don’t recall exactly what the sign said, but I do know that it ended with “God bless you.”

Since I hadn’t sneezed, I was unsure of the sign holder’s intentions, but I think he wanted money. That’s when the thought came to me. Starting at 3:30 p.m. on December 17 and continuing until the second Monday in January, I will technically be without the ability to work to support my family. Why couldn’t I claim a corner?

I thought a few moments about what my sign could say. It would definitely have to end with “God Bless You,” but everything before that is negotiable. My favorite signs have always been the honest ones. I especially like the ones that say, “I Need Money for Drugs. God Bless You.” Or what about the one that says, “I’m holding a sign and it makes me hungry. God bless you.”

My mind pondered the honest signs and I figured that would be the way to go. My sign would read, “I’m a teacher and the government won’t let me work for three weeks. God bless you.” I’d pick a busy corner, dress in tattered clothes, skip shaving for a couple of days and see what happens.

I shared this plan with my family, but my eight-year-old son immediately zeroed in on the holes. “Dad, that’s not going to make them want to give you money. That’s going to make them want to become teachers.”

Darn it. He’s right. I guess I do have it pretty good.