My Musings

Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell ‘em, “Certainly, I can.” Then get busy and find out how to do it. – Theodore Roosevelt

I recently got a last minute invitation for a job interview.

“Yes, of course I can make it. No problem.”

Admittedly, director of multimedia for a local health clinic, wasn’t exactly the role I was seeking. But heck, when you’re trying to reshape yourself, why not shoot for Jupiter?

However when the person who called to invite me, the same person who would be my boss, told me that it seems “you aren’t the person we’re looking for . . . ‘’ I cringed and quickly got off the phone before she could disinvite me.

A pair of black heeled penny loafers and a borrowed black purse to complete the suit ensemble, I was set. At least on the outside.

As I sat awaiting my turn, I reflected on my current state.

I had began the school year in my fifth year of teaching English. By the end of January I was jobless. My boss determined I was a menace to children and relieved me of my duties. Despite apologizing to my eighth graders for telling them to “stop bitching” about this, that and Fred, I had doomed myself. The mom complaints came like fusillades and I was out, despite offering to beg the parents for forgiveness. I was told I was a troublemakers and offered cardboard boxes to clean out my classroom.

Meanwhile, my four grades of students, were left in the hands of a non credentialed substitute.

So there I was. Seeking a paycheck and hoping to find myself again.

After waiting 40 minutes (yep) I was called back.

And then before I knew it, I was squirming. I had to explain what happened to me along the way.

“So why does a teacher with as many years in the classroom as you’ve had, want to transition to such a role?”

“Well let let me begin by saying I never intended to be a teacher.”

Never.

I was newspaper reporter. Loving life.

Then I got married to someone in the business. I knew he’d been married twice but nobody knew, including him, he was bipolar.

We adopted a little girl from India.

I stayed home with her through the cerebral palsy diagnosis, through the sleepless nights and the ADHD diagnosis and through the growth issues.

Eventually he left and moved in with his girlfriend. I was miserable, worried about the impact on my daughter.

An antidepressant later, I wasn’t in love with him and that life was okay.

Then he lost his job, lost all semblance of himself and jumped to his death from the Golden Gate.

My daughter and I went on living. I continued substituting and eventually earned my English credential.

All the while I was home in the afternoons with my daughter.

Now my daughter is 18 and my afternoons are mine again to do with as I’d like.

In case you’re wondering, no I didn’t go into this much detail during my interview. I shared enough to be lauded as a great mom by the interview panel.

Ultimately though, I received a generic rejection email on Monday afternoon.

Ugh.