where the way too super friendly secretary
greeted me. She introduced herself as Linda Smith and offered to
help me with any questions I had. I learned from student teaching
that one of the most important allies in a school was the school
secretary. There was a lot of power there in that person, power
that could be wielded in your favor or against. If I got this job,
Linda Smith and I would be fast friends.
After being escorted to the principal’s office, I met
the social studies department chair, Julie Baynes, first. Julie was
in her late forties, with a slightly plump figure. She wore khakis,
a red polo shirt, and had short, graying hair. Pretty much exactly
what you would think a middle-aged social studies teacher would
look like. She introduced me to the school principal, Ernest
Mahoney, a thin, bald man with wire rimmed glasses and a huge
smile.
“Emma, thank you so much for coming in to meet with
us on such short notice. We just had a teacher quit for medical
reasons, and we really need to fill the position. Can you tell us
about yourself?” Julie settled back in her chair with a welcoming
grin.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my skirt. “Well, I
attended UVA, graduating early with a secondary education degree.
I’m obsessed with history. I love every history class I have ever
taken and would love to share that passion with my students.” It
was something of a stock response, but I needed this job, and I
needed to stick with safe, “I live for teaching,” kind of
answers.
Principal Mahoney asked next, “Why did you want to
graduate early, Ms. Harris?”
“Sir, my mom needed help with my sister, who has
intellectual disabilities, and some expenses. I came home to
support my family.”
Julie and Principal Mahoney nodded and smiled at one
another.
“Emma, we see that you are only twenty-one. Are you
comfortable teaching students who are just a few years younger than
yourself?” Julie looked concerned as she waited for my answer.
“To be completely frank, Principal Mahoney and Ms.
Baynes, I was hoping for a middle school position because of my
age. But, no matter what grade I teach, I’m ready to get in the
classroom and get started. I’m looking forward to starting my
career, and I think Zionsville Academy would be a fantastic place
to do so.”
Jeez, I was making myself nauseous with my own
positivity. My student teaching supervisor would be beside herself
with that closer. She had suggested it in our mock interviews and,
at the time, I never thought I could pull it off without choking.
Look who’s all grown up, now.
Of course, at that time I hadn’t been facing
unemployment, or, at best, minimum wage employment involving greasy
burgers. Now, it was imperative that I erased all pride during my
one and only potential job interview. I had to lay it on thick. It
was mandatory that I forget every fear I ever had about becoming
“one of those people.” I needed to become that person. I could
cringe later.
Julie began paging through my portfolio and asked me
questions from my student teaching experience. She enjoyed reading
the evaluations I made for my students to critique my teaching, and
she especially loved the interdisciplinary unit I created in my
middle school internship. I included it because teachers loved to
see that you were willing to work with other subject area
professionals to create cohesive, thematic learning. Basically, I
was kissing ass.
Principal Mahoney was examining my transcript. “Your
grades are excellent and your recommendations from professors and
master teachers are exemplary. Ms. Baynes?”
I looked back and forth between them and Julie
reached out her hand. “We would like to offer you a position at
Zionsville Academy, Ms. Harris. Faculty training starts
tomorrow.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should run out the back door
screaming or kiss her right on the mouth. I went with a more
conservative approach and shook her hand. “Thank you so much! Oh,
my…I don’t
greeted me. She introduced herself as Linda Smith and offered to
help me with any questions I had. I learned from student teaching
that one of the most important allies in a school was the school
secretary. There was a lot of power there in that person, power
that could be wielded in your favor or against. If I got this job,
Linda Smith and I would be fast friends.
After being escorted to the principal’s office, I met
the social studies department chair, Julie Baynes, first. Julie was
in her late forties, with a slightly plump figure. She wore khakis,
a red polo shirt, and had short, graying hair. Pretty much exactly
what you would think a middle-aged social studies teacher would
look like. She introduced me to the school principal, Ernest
Mahoney, a thin, bald man with wire rimmed glasses and a huge
smile.
“Emma, thank you so much for coming in to meet with
us on such short notice. We just had a teacher quit for medical
reasons, and we really need to fill the position. Can you tell us
about yourself?” Julie settled back in her chair with a welcoming
grin.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my skirt. “Well, I
attended UVA, graduating early with a secondary education degree.
I’m obsessed with history. I love every history class I have ever
taken and would love to share that passion with my students.” It
was something of a stock response, but I needed this job, and I
needed to stick with safe, “I live for teaching,” kind of
answers.
Principal Mahoney asked next, “Why did you want to
graduate early, Ms. Harris?”
“Sir, my mom needed help with my sister, who has
intellectual disabilities, and some expenses. I came home to
support my family.”
Julie and Principal Mahoney nodded and smiled at one
another.
“Emma, we see that you are only twenty-one. Are you
comfortable teaching students who are just a few years younger than
yourself?” Julie looked concerned as she waited for my answer.
“To be completely frank, Principal Mahoney and Ms.
Baynes, I was hoping for a middle school position because of my
age. But, no matter what grade I teach, I’m ready to get in the
classroom and get started. I’m looking forward to starting my
career, and I think Zionsville Academy would be a fantastic place
to do so.”
Jeez, I was making myself nauseous with my own
positivity. My student teaching supervisor would be beside herself
with that closer. She had suggested it in our mock interviews and,
at the time, I never thought I could pull it off without choking.
Look who’s all grown up, now.
Of course, at that time I hadn’t been facing
unemployment, or, at best, minimum wage employment involving greasy
burgers. Now, it was imperative that I erased all pride during my
one and only potential job interview. I had to lay it on thick. It
was mandatory that I forget every fear I ever had about becoming
“one of those people.” I needed to become that person. I could
cringe later.
Julie began paging through my portfolio and asked me
questions from my student teaching experience. She enjoyed reading
the evaluations I made for my students to critique my teaching, and
she especially loved the interdisciplinary unit I created in my
middle school internship. I included it because teachers loved to
see that you were willing to work with other subject area
professionals to create cohesive, thematic learning. Basically, I
was kissing ass.
Principal Mahoney was examining my transcript. “Your
grades are excellent and your recommendations from professors and
master teachers are exemplary. Ms. Baynes?”
I looked back and forth between them and Julie
reached out her hand. “We would like to offer you a position at
Zionsville Academy, Ms. Harris. Faculty training starts
tomorrow.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should run out the back door
screaming or kiss her right on the mouth. I went with a more
conservative approach and shook her hand. “Thank you so much! Oh,
my…I don’t
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