Steven Easton

The Only Reason

Wednesday, May 1

Friends, we need to talk. If you remember, I moved up to Iowa two years ago because my aunt offered me a teaching job at the school she is a principal at. Literally, that was the only reason I moved Ava and I up to Iowa. Though I was planning to move somewhere else eventually because I didn't want Ava to go high school, or even middle school, in the district we were at in Alabama.

Here's the deal: I also happen to go to the same church with somebody who's brother is a high school principal at a district that is closer to our house. In March, I applied to be a high school English teacher there, knowing that I probably wouldn't get the job, but I was wrong. This district also has very good benefits, so I prayed about it.

From a logistical standpoint, it makes sense for me to work at this high school because it has similar hours to what Ava's middle school will have next year, and it is only ten minutes away from our house, compared to 25 minutes away. I drive a truck, and gas adds up.

I love my aunt, Jen, but having a family member as a boss is weird. It's like my coworkers question if I'm even worthy of working here. Going from small town Alabama to a district with 4A schools was a bit of a jump. The problems I had to deal with in Alabama were so much different than the problems I have to deal with now. Here, my biggest fear is parents being unwilling to work with me, but there, my biggest fear was not knowing if a kid was going to make to high school.

When I told my aunt this right before going on spring break, I went into her office during my open hour, and she was typing away on her hot pink MacBook, so focused that she didn't even look up. I knocked on her door, even though I was already in her office.

She looked up, unfazed, telling me that she had known I was there, but didn't care enough to acknowledge me. (It isn't just me; she's like that to everyone.) "What do you need?"

My hands were clammy. "Can we chat?"

"Sure?" She raised her eyebrows as she took off her hot pink reading glasses and put them on her desk after shutting her laptop.

I sat down across from her, scooting my chair in, so I'd be closer to the desk. "So, I need you to know that this isn't personal, and I appreciate everything you and Mike have done for me here, but I need to tell you that I accepted a job at [the high school I will work at next year]. I just really feel led to go out of my comfort zone and try something new." That wasn't a lie.

She stared at me for a good twenty seconds before saying, "It's not good to move jobs every two years, Steven. I mean, I--if it wasn't for me--for Mike, too, you wouldn't be here, and I just don't know why you think that after just two years--not even--you want to leave. It's obviously something else, or you're not meant to have any job if you're not willing to stay for more than two years. I mean, we helped you get here. We even picked out a house for you."

"I understand that, but I think that--look, I've been teaching middle school for seven years now, and I'm ready to try high schoolers."

"So, what happens when you don't like high school?"

"Then I go back to teaching middle school, but at church, mentoring high schoolers has been really fun and enjoyable." Jen's husband, Mike, is a pastor, and I lead a small group of high schoolers on Wednesday nights at their church, but I go to a different church on Sundays.

"Well, don't expect a job here again because it's unlikely that we'll need you."

"I understand that, but just don't think that it's anything you've done." As the words rolled off the tongue, I knew that the truth was that I didn't want to work for my aunt anymore, and if she wasn't a factor, maybe I would have had five more years at this school. I couldn't shake the idea that the only reason why I was a teacher at her school was because she was my aunt.

We still had Easter and celebrated Ava's birthday with Mike and Jen's family, so it's not like our relationship is ruined, but there's some unworked out tension that will hopefully go away with time.

In all honesty, at least at the high school, I can say I earned the job on my own.