The Clam Before the Strom

I was staring listlessly into a stream of envelopes when it happened. Sealing and post marking the mail had become so routine over the last three years that I sometimes tuned out the world around me until the din of the machine came to a stop. There was a dull, vibrating tone coming from the pocket of my jacket. I pulled out my Motorola Razr to examine the message. It was from a friend of mine, a teacher at a place called the Unity School. 

"My school is hiring a drama/art teacher. Do you want me to give them your number?" 

The sixteen months leading up to this day could be summarized as follows, wake up, go to work, listen to a lecture from my boss about how my talents are being wasted here in the mailroom, play final fantasy for a few hours while the window is slow, get off work, go to the computer lab nearby and apply for every education related job I could find. Repeat 525 times. 

If there's a record for faster typing on a numerical keypad, I'm pretty sure I gave it a run for it's money as my thumb raced across the keypad to send my approval. I thought of all the resumes, cover letters, applications I labored over...and here is a job, materializing out of thin air, as if by divine intervention. As the shock began to fade, reality renewed its lease on my thoughts as I remembered how many other people have vouched for me in hopes of getting me a job in the past. Somebody's recommendation is a very nice thing, but I've seen first hand, too many times, that it can only do so much. 

Deciding it would be far more useful to concentrate on the work I've already been hired to do, I start to load up the mail van for the last mail run that stands between me and a lengthy Christmas vacation. The snow is already caked onto the windows when I finish loading the last of the paper orders in. As I pull myself into the driver's seat, my phone goes off yet again. I don't recognize the number, maybe the Copy Center is calling about the other six boxes I purposely left to sit until next year...

Instead, a woman named Tracy greeted me on the other end. She wasted no time in cutting to the chase. She told me she had got my number from an employee at her school who said I was very artistic and had some experience in education and theatre. She said that the school very recently lost its Drama and Art teachers and she was hoping to hire someone to replace them both. She seemed undeterred by my confession that while I have worked with kids for years, that I have no true "in classroom" teaching experience, nor any degree in Education. She proceeded to gush about how getting to take the place of these two teachers will be a dream job. Almost in the same breath, her voice dropped an octave and took on a foreboding. It's going to be a hard job, she says. You're going to be overwhelmed. Trial by fire. For the first few months, she wouldn't be surprised if I do nothing but wake up, teach, and then plan my lessons and curriculum until the late hours of the morning. And more than anything, she stressed how the   successful applicant would be organized. Everything in its place. She told the tragic tale of how the former art teacher huffed off in a fury, taking even the last can of who-hash. I reassured her that I personally rate my bedroom as a 9.5 in terms of how organized it is ( I did this because she asked me to) and that I would have that room in shape in no time flat if offered the job. Thus would begin our primary means of communicating for the next six months, lying to one another. Before hanging up, she asked if it were possible for me to meet up with her, after ruling out Virginia as an option, we settled on meeting at the school itself. Five days from now, on December 28th. 

As I hung up, a mixture of elation, confusion, disbelief, and fear swept over me. What had even just happened? This morning I had zero prospects, zero contacts, and zero hope. Now I have, even if not specifically labeled as such, an interview in five days! My phone lights up again as I'm about to put it back in my pocket. Another text from my friend. 

"Just so you know, the principal is a little crazy..."