Question for those nerdier than myself

How complicated would it be to host my books myself and sell them through the site?  I’m competent enough to know that I’d need server space and some sort of software package to handle the sales, but not competent enough to know how simple/expensive it is to acquire and set that up.

(By “myself,” I don’t mean “physically host a server in my house,” unless physically hosting a server in my house is easier than I think it is.  I’m just wondering about ways to sell my books that put 100% of the sale into my pocket rather than the cut Amazon might give me.)

On teacher pay

10635710_10152586250603926_8540224056547831404_nI talk about teaching an awful lot on this site, right?  Enough that there are people who have admitted to me that they regularly skip past posts on the topic.  (Which, for the record, is fine.  I’m going to write about whatever the hell I want; you, in turn, have the right to ignore whatever the hell you want.)

One common subject connected to teaching that I have more or less completely ignored is teacher pay.  I can’t think of a single post that I’ve devoted to the topic, and I don’t even think it’s come up tangentially (other than “I don’t get paid enough for this shit” types of gripes) more than a couple of times.  There are several reasons for this, chief among which being the fact that virtually everyone feels like they’re not paid enough for what they do.  Do I think teachers are paid enough?  No, I don’t, particularly in Indiana.  Do I think it’s an especially winning issue to discuss a lot?  No, not so much.

Here’s the thing, though, and I know I talked about this during my job hunt this summer:  Indiana has effectively made it illegal (and that’s not hyperbole; it’s the literal truth) to pay me what I’m worth.  It is illegal to tie raises to seniority, meaning that they can’t pay me for my experience.  It is illegal to tie raises to education— ponder, for a moment, the amazing fact that teachers can’t make more money by getting advanced degrees— meaning that my not-one-but-two Master’s degrees are worth precisely bupkis to any school district that might be looking to hire me.

Now, I started teaching in my current district before all these laws kicked in, meaning that my current salary is grandfathered.  I made a comfortable salary last year, and received a frankly scandalous raise when I changed jobs this year– I am absolutely not complaining about my current pay, but it’s not going to last long.  I am not rich by any means, but if it weren’t for all these credit card debts hanging over my head from my twenties and my absurd level of student loan debt, I was making plenty of money to live well, if not extravagantly.  Those other things are my fault; they don’t make my salary less.

I got as far as talking salary with one district during my interview process.  They offered me twelve thousand dollars a year less than I was making last year– flatly impossible.  Upon further investigation, the pay cuts at other districts would have ranged from six to ten thousand dollars.

Under current Indiana law, no new teacher will ever make what I make again.  I know people who have been teaching for five years who still make starting teacher salary– around $32K.  Once they’re in their thirteenth year, which I’m currently in, they’ll still be making right around that same $32K, although they’ll probably have managed a couple of one-or-two-percent district-wide shame raises during that time.  But not anything meaningfully different once inflation comes into play.

I bring all this up for two reasons:  one, I spent $600 on some new suit jackets tonight, a number that may jump to $800 if a navy blue jacket in my size that I liked comes in in the next couple of days.  Those in the picture aren’t all new, but four of them are.  I had to do this to meet my new boss’s expectations on how the folks in his office dress.

(Not complaining.)

We went to Taco Bell for dinner.  Taco Bell is hiring.  They have a big sign– that I couldn’t get a picture of on account of I was driving– in their drive-thru, indicating that assistant managers can make up to $38,000 a year and building managers– they called it something else, but I don’t recall what– can make up to $50,000 a year.

Meaning that an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant can make $500 a month more than a starting licensed teacher– a job that, mind you, requires a college degree, which I doubt (correct me if I’m wrong) assistant managing a fast food restaurant does– and that a manager manager can make more than I did teaching last year, with two Master’s degrees and twelve years of teaching experience.  And that, furthermore, the teachers will never reach those salary levels, because it is effectively illegal to give us raises.(*)

And I’m not trying to denigrate fast food employees here– I’ve done that job, and I have tried to never treat a fast food employee with anything less than perfect respect since, and keep in mind that I have a second job where I work behind a register right now— but god damn it you should make more teaching than you do at fucking Taco Bell.  Fucking society depends on our asses.  This is bullshit.

(*) I’m going to amend my earlier statement, because thinking about it I know that I’ve talked about the politics of teacher pay before– but I still think I’ve refrained from generalized “WE DOAN MAKE ‘NUFF MONEY” types of posts.   It is not precisely illegal to give us raises– they can be tied to student test scores and evaluations and things like that, but the way the laws work it is trivially easy for districts to simply declare that they don’t have the money to pay us more– and the governor and the legislature are also trying to starve public schools of funds any way they can, so the districts are more often than not telling the truth.

Some crazy nonsense that just happened

Two things, neither of which are within my usual sphere of experience:

  1. I got a solicitation from a marketer for a blog post.  Like, “Hey, this thing is happening, would you mind writing about it?”  I’m trying to decide if I’m offended that I wasn’t offered any money for it.
  2. I just sent a contract to a lawyer for his review.  Don’t get too excited about this; it sounds cooler than it is.   But it’s still weird.  But I seriously got to type the words “I’ll run this by my attorney and see what he thinks” in an email message.  The guy’s not actually my attorney, he’s just an attorney that I know, but still.  🙂

So, yeah.  Toddler birthday party, here I come.

In which that’s a real thing

You may have a serious barn-burner of a movie review coming later tonight, assuming I find the time and the energy to write it; I find myself in the odd position of being impressively tired from my first day back to work (in the job I still can’t write about) and simultaneously not entirely sure what the hell I did all day.  Which is impressive and new.  This was part of my day:

photo

Mental note: there are files in that file.

Okay so for the record

tumblr_lbwyf8TfKe1qzkrg9Have you noticed how the word count for BA 8 hasn’t increased in, like, a week?

Good reason for that.  Started a new job.

Which I can’t talk about right now.  Like, at all, and I may not really be able to talk about it once I’m able to talk about it, if you know what I mean and I doubt you do.

I have been busy as hell for the last several days, summer is over three weeks early, I start full-time on Monday (and have been there two of the three days this week, and will be in tomorrow) and there is already drama and nonsense.

So… yeah.  Forgive me if the next week or so is sparse.  I’m alive, I promise, and I’ll get back on the horse with the book as soon as I can.

On starting the day off right

wpid-62d290529ffe44593f2d7991999e7a3a81585e813305693cefc8659cbf838e59_12-jpgUgh.  I was glad to come home and see the Guardians of the Galaxy trailer was live, because otherwise today was just an enormous pile of shit.  The day started– and by “started,” I mean within ten minutes of walking into the door, with having to break up a rather impressively violent brawl between two eighth grade girls.  Ever done that?  It’s difficult.  Four fistfuls of hair, then they hit the floor and start kicking at each other.  I hit the floor with them eventually so there had to be an accident report and blah blah blah my job sucks blah blah blah.  On the plus side, I thought the first day of ECA testing went really well; we’ll see how day two goes on Wednesday.

Decided today that I’m done hassling people on Facebook about the book; I’m pretty sure that everyone I know has been notified that I’ve written one and I’ve sold the copies I’m going to sell (well, mostly) among people I know.  If I’m going to get much beyond the circle of people I either know or interact with on the blog (and, again, I’m pretty sure I can trace almost every single sale to someone I know) I’m going to have to come up with a better marketing solution.

Not to say that I have any good ideas at the moment.  I’ve kinda done the rounds on the ebook promotion sites; we’ll see if anything comes from it.  Between now and then, time to start working on the next thing.  School’s out in three weeks; it would be good if I had a decent head start on planning the next book (and finally got around to those edits on Skylights) before then.

Tonight, though, I need to watch TV and then sleep for a thousand hours.

In which I jobhunt

paperworkHave spent the morning updating my resume (screw the accents) and filling out all sorts of shit on complicated online application forms.  I’ve decided, much to my chagrin and for reasons that I don’t really want to go into here, that I need to go somewhere else next year, most preferably to a new district entirely.  My head already hurts just from the revisions to the resume, which I haven’t touched since moving away from Chicago in 2007; I’m sure as soon as I wade into having to get copies of my transcripts from the three different universities that I have degrees from it will much improve the quality of my day.

Also today, if I can squeeze it in, some work on final revisions and formatting for Benevolence Archives, and oh right I have a birthday party to run at work tonight.  And tomorrow I get to do mortar & tape work in the bathroom, which I’ve never done before and am sure to screw up in a most epic fashion.

I managed to get all my grading done yesterday before leaving work.  I think I’m grateful for that; it means that I might get half an hour to relax this weekend if I play my cards right.

Graaaah.

(EDIT:  The University of Chicago, amazingly, doesn’t charge for electronic transcripts– the other two universities hit me up for $15 to email me a .pdf file.  Apparently they’ve decided that the hundred million dollars that it cost me to get a Master’s Degree from them covers future transcript requests.  Hooray!)

In which I wasn’t mad until you apologized

target-data-breachI haven’t talked much about the Great Target Data Breachenationing of 2013, mostly because, honestly, I haven’t been terribly concerned about it– I was one of the ones theoretically affected, because there’s a Target basically in my back yard and I shop there all the time, but I also generally keep a really close eye on my bank account and so I would have noticed any suspicious charges basically immediately. I feel like for the most part Target has behaved as a relatively responsible corporate citizen while all this has been going on, my bank hasn’t made the decision to fuck me unduly like some other banks did; no big deal, right?

I got an email from Target a few days ago; so did my wife and so did, very likely, a whole lot of you, offering me a free year of credit monitoring as a way to make amends.  I’d love to know how much coin Target had to shell out to make this happen or if Experian is just figuring they can make it up on the back end by convincing a shitton of new customers to keep going after that year is up.  I don’t currently have any kind of credit monitoring turned on, although I have in the past, and I’m considering taking them up on their offer. The email is, generally, very apologetic about the whole affair, and it appears that they’ve located a seventeen-year-old (of course it was a teenager) in St. Petersburg who wrote the malware that made the hack possible.

It didn’t hit me until yesterday that, at least for me personally, there’s sort of a big question hanging over my head about the whole thing, and that question didn’t come to light until I got that email:

How the hell did Target get my email address?

I have never ordered anything from Target.com.  Target doesn’t ask for emails as a part of doing business.  I have– and I checked, and since I use gmail my email archive goes back to forever— never received any emails from them before.  I don’t have a Target credit card, and never have, and certainly didn’t in December when the breach happened.  We had a wedding registry with them six years ago, but that was with my wife’s email; mine wasn’t on it.

I can think of one way and one way only that they might have it, which is that I applied for a Target field trip grant for the DC trip this year– but that wasn’t attached to any bank or debit card information, and the address and phone number I provided them was my school address and phone number, so even if they’re cross-matching databases the address and phone number wouldn’t match what they (might?) have through my debit card.  They could, maybe, have done a match with my name and town and made an assumption– but that itself assumes that they’re willing to have a pretty fair number of false positives, and also that they’re working their asses off to collect and consolidate customer data that they have, in turn, then never used until this data breach.  If they got it from my bank, I kinda feel like my bank ought to have told me that, and they didn’t.

I find myself more curious about how they got my email than I am about how the hack was able to happen.  I don’t know if that indicates skewed priorities on my part or not.  And maybe if you’re going to send a giant email to millions of people about how your data collection process got screwed up and compromised, you include a line somewhere about how you got the information that allowed you to contact them in the first place.