I was hired as a teacher19 years ago in a way that seems very 1950's. I printed my application out from my desk top, folded it with my resume into an envelope, and mailed it. With a stamp.
I know.
I had been subbing for about a year at that time and was feeling salty after being rejected from a full time sub position because I did not have my teaching license. How stupid, that's what the sub license if for, right? UGH. I also got attitude from the junior high feeder (I worked in my neighborhood since the girls were small) when I asked if I could lend a hand with their choir/theatre productions. On no uncertain terms, the governing teacher informed me that if I wanted to teach theatre, I should get my license.
OK.
I had a B.A in theatre with a minor in English, but no real teaching experience outside of subbing. I had some great stories, but nothing to put on an application. I chatted up other teachers and discovered that Metro had a 'TIR' program, which stands for Teacher in Residence. I had been calling around, trying to figure out how to get my license without giving up another two years to more college and was thrilled that this existed. The only snag was that I had to get hired by a school first, before enrolling.
Second snag: None of the website applications worked if you did not have a teaching license number to enter.
The idea of entering every phase of my life through a side door was not new, so nobody was surprised that this was how I had to get a teaching job. It furthered my reputation as "scrappy" when I had to print the application at home, fill it out with a Bic pen, and mail it in. Equally shocking was when the AP called me for an interview.
Over the years, I've seen the committees that hire new teachers. No committee was created for my interview. I had no idea that was abnormal, as the only interview I had been on--which had been a committee of lang arts teachers who hated me because I didn't have a license---was not a "real" interview in my mind. I sat in the AP's office with the current theatre teacher, and watched them talk to each other. They asked me two questions that I remember: Could I teach tech (I lied and said yes), and what musical would I like to direct? That was it. The rest of my "interview" was watching them tell stories to each other. It was my first experience with anything resembling a "Boy's Club", and I did not like it at all. The teacher-not the AP- called later to ask if I'd like to start driving to Littleton. The job was part time, exactly what I needed, and he said they needed me to come meet the principal "as a formality". Now I know that is NOT NORMAL.
When I came in the next day to meet the principal, I found an older man in a full suit with his wing tips on the desk, regarding me with as much interest as a sated lion looking at a mouse. He barely stayed conscious and had no real questions, just statements. "So, you're the new theatre teacher." Then the phone rang and he didn't excuse himself to answer it. He just picked it up, listened, hung up and said "So, you have a minor in English?" I nodded. "You want to be full time and teach lang arts half time with half time theatre?"
That was it.
So my first day in the building, I knew exactly no one except the theatre teacher. For some reason, the door to the theatre class room was locked and after several unsuccessful tries I wandered around the building, looking for someone to tell me what to do. I was sharing a lang arts classroom, so there was no need to set up. I was given a cubicle in which I sat sadly, like the lonely lunch kid, listening to conversations around me. At some point, I said "This is ridiculous, I'm an adult. I'm opening that damn door" and got up to march to the theatre. On my way, a teacher named Greg Kline, who I had never seen before in my life, was walking towards me. I managed a smile through my panic attack, and he lifted his middle finger to his eye. "Look into my eye," I heard Sarge say to Hudson in my head and started to cry. I picked up the pace to the theatre, and when I arrived at the door, decided I would break it down if I had to. I wrestled the doorknob loudly, in a full panic, when it was torn open from the other side. The theatre teacher was standing there, beaming like Santa Claus. "I thought that might be you, where've you been?
"It's locked, the door was locked I don't have a key."
"It sticks, you just have to jiggle it. Come in, I've been waiting for you."
I entered what would become my second home, for the first time. I took a deep breath, looked around the black cement walls with shows painted on them, and immediately calmed down. It was like flipping a switch. The panic disappeared as quickly as it had pounced. I honestly had never felt so calm in my life.
Oh, and that bastard Greg Kline? We ended up being friends, forever sending students to one another's classrooms to insist the other smelled, and calling each another "Satan". To this day he only laughs when I tell the story of my first day, because he has no memory of seeing me. I leave quite an impression on people.
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