When I was in my 20s, I used to say that I was very lucky. I was very lucky that every time I had really needed a job, one had appeared.
I moved to Indiana after my first full year of professional teaching, and I signed up to sub in 3 different districts. By October, after subbing a few times at the city schools and exactly one time at the county high school, I was offered a long term sub job by the county that I hadn't even applied for. When it ended, I went back to subbing. Again, I subbed a few times at the city schools and exactly one time at the county middle school, and I got a call that very afternoon asking me if I would take another long term job. That job turned into a second job that took me through the end of the year.
The next year, we moved to Texas, with very little warning. I sent letters to all the public and private schools in town and before the summer had ended or I had even set foot in the state of Texas, the Catholic school principal called me and said I was just what he needed. I worked there for three years.
When my husband graduated and we moved to Pennsylvania, I worked as an SAT teacher and master tutor, teaching several classes a week, while I waited for my PA certification to go through. As soon as it did, I signed up to sub in several districts. Before I had even subbed a day, I got called for a long term job that lasted through the end of the year.
This summer I had three interviews. One in my home district, where I have subbed for 6 years. One for the middle school in the district where I have long term subbed at the high school for the last two years. And one at an underprivileged school that struggles to keep certified teachers. No one hired me.
I feel broken. I know I need to bounce, to keep applying, to take the rejection with a grain of salt. But in the back of my head, in the bottom of my soul I just keep asking, why does no one want me anymore?
The last job I interviewed for, the one which on the surface seemed like the least strong match, was the one that probably stung the most. When I saw the job posted a week before school started, when I got the invitation to interview, I thought, this is it. This is the job that's going to come through, that's going to change my life, that's going to be there right when I need it like all those other jobs have been. I told people about it. I almost bought books for the classroom library before even going to the interview.
When they picked another candidate, I was disappointed. Really though, I was deeply, deeply ashamed. Ashamed for thinking that I could get it. Ashamed for telling people about the interview and then having to tell them I didn't get it. Ashamed for believing that anyone would want me.
The very first teaching job I ever applied for, the one that I don't talk about, was at the school where I student taught, subbing for my cooperating teacher. It seemed like a sure thing. I would be teaching content I knew to kids I knew and loved. But they gave it to someone else. The superintendent had promised the next job to someone and besides, he said. I looked sloppy. My clothes were wrinkled. My hair was messy.
I went home and cried.
That winter break, before returning to my last semester of grad school, I sat on my parents' couch and read Writing Down the Bones cover to cover. I wrote for hours. In the evenings I went to the townie bar with friends, one of whom is now my husband, and shared pitchers of beer. I started to feel like a person again. I remembered who I was.
And at the end of that break, the same school called me for a different long term sub job, which went to the end of the year and which turned into my first full time contract job the next year.
I checked out Writing Down the Bones from the library a few weeks ago. My notebook is open. I'm afraid of the vulnerability to hope that something will come up , that something will change, but I'm beginning from the only place I know. Hopefully I'll find myself there again.
