Caught in a Blizzard of Paperwork

I am caught in a blizzard of paperwork. At school I need to fill in the blanks for the goals I am setting for the year. But, first, I need to complete a self-evaluation of where I am as a teacher currently. Not to mention the student forms to set up a plan for them to improve awaiting my attention. Some time while completing all these forms (we can’t forget the lesson plans), I need to find the time to transfer all my grades. The state of North Carolina in their infinite wisdom, has changed the name of all the Language Arts and Math courses. It means nothing when it comes to teaching. However, because the state runs the education throughout the state, all classes need to have the same course number in the computer. Apparently, someone in the department of education has been out of teaching for a while and thought three days before progress reports go out would be the best time to change everything over. In the meantime, school board members are asking about web pages and why they are not set up for some teachers. (Yes, I am one of those teachers.) I do understand the need for being data-driven, but give me a break! I would rather be spending all that extra time involved with planning my lessons. Speaking of which, they also need to be specifically written out and handed in on a weekly basis.

Paperwork is not only loved within the school system, it continues in the area of registering a car. Thirty days after I bought my car and put on the temporary plates, I was finally able to get to Smithfield to the Division of Motor Vehicles to get it registered. (The previous week I had gone to a closer town only to find out it was a different county.) The line wasn’t too long. I had my paperwork and my checkbook ready.

     “I need your license.”

     “Here you go.”

     “This is an out of state license. You need a North Carolina license in order to register your car. You will need to pass a written test before being issued a temporary license. You can’t use the temporary one to register your car. You need the hard copy that they mail you. It takes about two weeks.”

     Time stood still. Memories of going to Dunn the week before only to find out I had to go to Smithfield to register my car began to swirl in my head. I could hear the man who sold me the car telling me I have thirty days to get my car registered. In between school and soccer it has been hard finding the time. How in the world would I get back to register it?

     “You have got to be kidding! Is there any way I can get an extension so I won’t be driving an unregistered car?”

     “Nope.”

Off to the licensing center I went in my unregistered car hoping they would still be open and I would have time to get the process started.

     “I need your license, proof of residence, social security card, and proof of liability insurance.”

     Smiling and thankful I had jumped through all the hoops to get my new social security card, I handed the women my information. I was given a number and went to study while I waited for my turn.

     “B313.”

     Sitting down in front of the desk, I felt pretty confident as I handed over all my paperwork.

    “Who is Tony? Your name is not on your insurance card. You need form DL123,” the lady informed me.

     “Tony is my husband. Can I have the insurance company fax you the information?”

     I stepped outside to call my insurance company. After being on hold for ten minutes, I learned that I needed to transfer my insurance to North Carolina. (It was still in Colorado.) I answered a few questions about whether I was married still – a discount even when living 13 hours away from each other – only to find out that I needed a new policy for North Carolina. I was transferred and once again put on hold. In the meantime, the lady at the desk came out and watered flowers. I began the new policy only to accidently hang up on the agent, call back, and hold for another five minutes before getting him back on the line. Finally, everything was squared away.

     “The fax should be coming sometime within the next 30 minutes,” I told the lady at the desk.

     “Put your forehead against the machine and read me the letters.” I am not sure how I did with that, but she did ask me if one of my contacts was for up close. I needed to tell her what different signs meant and what the shape of signs meant. Did you know a sideways yellow triangle means ‘No Passing’? I didn’t until today.

     Walking over to the computer to take my test, I had a bit of test anxiety. What if the laws of driving were a bit different here? I only spent about five minutes looking through the book. Would it be enough? Question number 13 stumped me, “What percentage of highway accidents are caused by drunk drivers?” I was pretty sure it was 37%, but 68% was a bit tempting as well. I skipped that one. (It is 37%.) So far, all my answers were correct. The test stopped when I answered 20 questions right. I had passed my test with no incorrect answers! On to the blue screen to smile for the camera.

I am now an official resident of North Carolina – albeit one that may be driving an illegal car right now. I have my driver’s license, a job, and am registered to vote. Now, to get my official teaching certification.