Rejection

Prologue

It took me seven years to get the job I thought I wanted.  That's right.  It was seven years out of college before I got employment for what I had spent four years studying to do for a career.  You're probably thinking, "Wow what are you, like an architect, a designer, some kind of television producer?"  Boy are you going to be disappointed.  I'm a teacher.  It took me seven years after college to nail down a teaching job, and it wasn't even a full time position.

In those seven years I never gave up.  I. Am. Not. A. Quitter.  Nope.  If a school wouldn't hire me to teach, I figured I would get my foot in the door and be an Educational Technician.  Fancy name right?  Basically my job was to go to classes with kids who needed a lot of extra help.  Some of those kids needed help with academics.  It wasn't bad, it was almost sweet.  I mean if you think spending seven years taking notes in the same eleventh grade chemistry class is sweet.  That was the good part.  While some kids needed me to write down notes, others needed me to sit next to them and remind them that throwing shit isn't acceptable.  As if that wasn't annoying enough, I also worked with a real gem who needed to be reminded that jerking off in a classroom, or anywhere in public, is a definite no no. 

Ahh the glory days.  Although I had good benefits being an ed tech, my salary was well below the poverty line.  One cannot pay rent, buy food, and pay off student loans on a whopping $18,000 a year.  But... I had my foot in the door and the mindset that next year, come interview time, I was going to crush it!

In the meantime I needed to supplement my income with a second, and sometimes third job.  I mean I was in my twenties and after rent was paid and my ramen was cooked, I needed at least enough cash to buy one drink at the bar on Friday night.  I wasn't going to pick up a man sitting at home in my overpriced apartment. 

June, 2006

"How did it go," my mother asked before the second ring.

"I don't know," I said.  "I can never tell."

"Did you practice the interview questions Michelle gave you?"

"Yes, Mom.  I did, but every school asks different questions.  I did my best," I said, not feeling hopeful.  It was June 23rd and it was already ninety degrees outside.  The teachers that had just put me through a forty five minute firing squad had only been on their summer vacation for a week before they were forced to come in and interview me for the open English position at their high school.  I didn't feel bad for them.  So what they had to lose a couple of vacation days.  I would have given my front teeth to have been on their side of the table.  Interviews were my own personal embarrassing form of torture.  I graduated from college two years ago, had sat through at least a dozen interviews, and came up empty handed each time.  Meanwhile all of my college friends who had become teachers were able to get jobs immediately.  It wasn't fair, and it was humiliating.  The interview I had just left had gone okay when I thought back to the first real rejection I had been presented with the year before.

It was the spring of 2005, and I had just spent the last six months as a long term substitute.  From January until June I had been  teaching ninth grade English.  The teacher I replaced decided to up and switch careers mid year.  I was so hopeful because while my college friends had already been teaching since the fall, I had spent my time working at both the Portland Rec. Department as a camp counselor and at Victoria's Secret.  The two jobs were barely enough to cover my bills.  This was my chance.  The long term sub job however had given me confidence.  I was making way more money and I knew I was guaranteed an interview when they posted the job as a permanent position for the following year.  I thought for sure if I did a good job, which I had, I would be given the position.  Only I wasn't. 

A week after my interview and two days before school got out, the principal called me to his office.  "This is it", I thought excitedly.  "No more being ashamed, I can actually tell people I am a teacher."

"Go ahead and shut the door," Mr. Bruno, the principal said when I entered the office.  "Take a seat."

I sat down in the chair across from his desk and my stomach did a couple of flips.  I tried to appear confident so I plastered a fake smile on my face and sat up straight.

"Okay, well we really want to thank you for all you have done this year," he began.  "You did a nice job in a really challenging situation, and helped the school out of a really difficult spot."

"Your welcome, it was my pleasure," I said smiling and nodding like an idiot.

"The students and parents have given amazing feedback.  They were all very happy with the job that you did.  Unfortunately, that said," Bruno continued. "We've decided to go with someone with more experience to fill the permanent position."

There it was.  Like a giant fist right to my gut.  The air left my lungs and I fought to keep the sandwich I'd had for lunch from being splayed out across his mahogany desk.  I had walked into this office thinking I had bagged myself a permanent job.  I had been so sure I would be able to start paying off my student loans.  Things in my life, up until this very moment, had always come easy.  I had always gotten what I wanted.  I wanted to have a lot of friends in high school, check.  I wanted to be on varsity soccer, done.  I wanted straight A's, I did it.  I wanted a college degree, easy.  Nobody had ever told me no before.  I had never really failed at anything in my entire life, until right then.

    My smile faltered and I began to blink a bit more rapidly. "Oh, okay," was all I said.  Had I done something wrong.  Did someone report me because I had called a kid queer, when he was acting like a moron?  Was it because the cafeteria ladies thought I was a student and I didn't correct them when they charged me a dollar less for lunch?  Was it because a student saw me buying vodka at the grocery store?  Maybe it was because that senior in my fourth period study hall had asked me to prom? 

    "We have two days left of school.  We would appreciate it if you didn't tell any of the students that you won't be returning."

    My eyes were heavy with tears and the blinking was just barely keeping them at bay.  I nodded silently.  If I spoke I was sure to start crying.

    "Thank you," he said with a curt smile and nod. 

    I looked at the floor as the first tears spilled over and I rushed out of his office. 

    I shook my head trying to get rid of the memory.  "I did my best," I said again softly.

    "Oh honey, I know you did.  I don't know why you get so nervous.  You are smart and pretty.  You will get something.  Just hang in there.  Keep saying prayers," My mom responded.

    "Look Mum, I am meeting Max for dinner. Will you call Kaitlyn for me.  I get so tired of rehashing the entire interview with everyone."

    "Sure thing honey.  Try and relax.  It's done now and it's in God's hands.  Tell Max I said hello.  Love you," she said and we hung up.

    I was meeting my cousin Max for dinner, but I had a couple of hours before he got out of work.  Max wasn't a real cousin.  His mother and my mother were best friends from their college days.  I had grown up calling her Aunt Sarah and her husband Uncle Steven and I had always referred to their two children Max and Michelle as my cousins, but there really wasn't any blood relation.  After I graduated from the University of Maine, I wanted to move to the southern part of the state.  It was perfect timing because Max was looking for a roommate for this gorgeous two bedroom townhouse he was renting.  I had really wanted to live with him because the place was gorgeous, it also happened to be really expensive.  I actually couldn't afford the rent, but he said that he would pick up the slack because he was taking the master bedroom.  Honestly, it was another reason why I wanted to nail down a position.  I didn't love the fact that I felt indebted to Max.