Now THAT's what I call Beauracracy
You know I love Upstate New York. There's just one little tiny exception to that love: the mind-numbing beauracracy.
Coming from Utah--which is pretty free from all these rules, believe me--I was shocked at the literal quagmire of difficulty I encountered with everything associated with the NY government engine: waits at the DMV, inexhaustible forms for taxes, and form after form after form (did I ever tell you about the prom forms? Oh yes, there were forms to fill out at the high school for those wanting to go to prom). It really is no surprise that the NY State Legislature was voted the most ineffective of all state legislatures in the United States.
Today, however, took the cake. It won the prize, the state championship, the ultimate reward in total ineffectiveness.
I received an envelope today in the mail from the New York State Department of Education. I was quite puzzled, as I haven't been teaching for over 9 months now, and couldn't figure out what the Dept. of Ed wanted from me.
Oh, they didn't want a thing. Bless their souls, they finally just decided to send me my NY State Teaching Certificate.
I applied for it 2 years ago. I filled out all the forms, I paid the fee, I even got fingerprinted. I sent all the forms and money and fingerprints away, and I waited...and waited...and waited. I got hired at the local high school under the provision that the certificate was on its way. And so I started teaching. About every month, the HR guy would send an email that asked for my certificate. I'd always write back, each time a little more surprised than the time before, "what? still no certificate? I sent in all the forms, I promise!"...I'd write them.
Gradually, the case of the missing certificate escalated. The district called in the county folks. Then the district guy and the county lady would also send me the same emails, month after month. Finally the state got inovolved. I got emails from all of them. They all confirmed that I had sent in the forms, paid the fees, done the fingerprinting, but the darn certificate just never could be found. Ultimately, I finished the school year with no teaching certificate, but with about 20 people emailing me, trying to find out the status of my certificate.
That brings us to today. There it lies on my counter top, pristine and all offical looking, stating that I am indeed licensed to teach in New York... now that it doesn't matter anymore, now that I'm home raising my child, and now that I've totally quit the teaching profession for the next several years.
In an interesting, ironic twist, my teaching certificate is stamped with the date I went into the hospital to have Lillian.
God bless New York State.
Coming from Utah--which is pretty free from all these rules, believe me--I was shocked at the literal quagmire of difficulty I encountered with everything associated with the NY government engine: waits at the DMV, inexhaustible forms for taxes, and form after form after form (did I ever tell you about the prom forms? Oh yes, there were forms to fill out at the high school for those wanting to go to prom). It really is no surprise that the NY State Legislature was voted the most ineffective of all state legislatures in the United States.
Today, however, took the cake. It won the prize, the state championship, the ultimate reward in total ineffectiveness.
I received an envelope today in the mail from the New York State Department of Education. I was quite puzzled, as I haven't been teaching for over 9 months now, and couldn't figure out what the Dept. of Ed wanted from me.
Oh, they didn't want a thing. Bless their souls, they finally just decided to send me my NY State Teaching Certificate.
I applied for it 2 years ago. I filled out all the forms, I paid the fee, I even got fingerprinted. I sent all the forms and money and fingerprints away, and I waited...and waited...and waited. I got hired at the local high school under the provision that the certificate was on its way. And so I started teaching. About every month, the HR guy would send an email that asked for my certificate. I'd always write back, each time a little more surprised than the time before, "what? still no certificate? I sent in all the forms, I promise!"...I'd write them.
Gradually, the case of the missing certificate escalated. The district called in the county folks. Then the district guy and the county lady would also send me the same emails, month after month. Finally the state got inovolved. I got emails from all of them. They all confirmed that I had sent in the forms, paid the fees, done the fingerprinting, but the darn certificate just never could be found. Ultimately, I finished the school year with no teaching certificate, but with about 20 people emailing me, trying to find out the status of my certificate.
That brings us to today. There it lies on my counter top, pristine and all offical looking, stating that I am indeed licensed to teach in New York... now that it doesn't matter anymore, now that I'm home raising my child, and now that I've totally quit the teaching profession for the next several years.
In an interesting, ironic twist, my teaching certificate is stamped with the date I went into the hospital to have Lillian.
God bless New York State.
Comments
What a delightful bit of irony in the date.
(and prom forms?!?!?!? Oh, man!)