There has been a looming concern on Jason's teaching horizon regarding his status of being able to teach Health next year. He's been teaching it for the last three years on a conditional license, but in order to be able to teach it next year--thereby guaranteeing his position at his school--he had to pass the Health Education Praxis Exam (ie: expensive tests that teachers have to take in order to get their teaching license) so that he could be Professionally Certified to talk about fat content, and meth, and sex.
Really, what's not to love about talking about reproductive organs with seventh graders? Just this week he started the unit on puberty. *snicker snicker* It used to make him kind of uncomfortable, but now he finds it all quite hilarious because the kids would totally rather be somewhere else than listening to him talk about ovaries and...um...other body parts. *more snickering* I love a man who can tell me why I got pregnant in terminology fit for a junior higher. Plus, if there's anyone who should be teaching health it's Jason. Aside from his unwillingness to eat wheat bagels (I've tried...the man loves his white bread), he's a healthy living guy.
He took the test five weeks ago, but didn't feel terribly confident about how he did. After all, he didn't take any health education in college. His class schedule was filled with things like Civics, and national government, and American Thought and Culture. They don't talk too much about mental health and STDs in those classes (although maybe they should).
Just to be safe, Jason even interviewed at West HS because they needed a social studies teacher. Since he's going to be coaching soccer there next year, he has a very good shot at getting that job (this is when we like the preferential treatment given to those sportsy types).
He had to score better than a 690.
The news came in the mail, and I, federal law breaker that I am, opened the letter even though my name appeared nowhere on the envelope.
He passed. I knew he would. He's so sex-y like that.