A lot of my education major friends from college are still hunting for that elusive permanent teaching job. When we talk, I recognize how fortunate I am and I do my best to remain positive as we speak, despite a job market outlook that is drearier than ever.
“All you can do is keep applying,” I say, and those words are meaningless, perhaps insulting coming from someone who has a permanent position, but I don’t know what else to say. I am one of the lucky ones. Who am I to comment at all?
When we began our majors in the education field, we were told many things that happened to be true at the time: the baby boomers are about to retire! Demand for teachers surpasses the supply! This is a hot field to get in. Little did we know that when those baby boomers were to retire that their positions would be cut right along with them - large in part due to a lack of funding brought on by the Republican war on public education.
Like I said, I was one of the lucky ones - but not at first.
When I graduated from college three years ago, I had never felt so optimistic, so free, so excited by the endless opportunities presented to the young, energetic, slightly crazy 22 year old that I was. Without hesitation, I began applying all over the United States (and even in quite a few other countries). I figured if it were May, I would easily have a job lined up by June, which meant plenty of time to prepare myself for the big move and have fun in the meantime.
Then June came. Then June went.
I was still optimistic. Oh, people don’t even hire until July, I told myself. Then July came. I kept applying. I drove to Chicago without telling a soul at a last minute’s notice for a series of interviews (something I couldn’t remotely afford - thank you Mastercard), only to lose out after it came down only to me and a nice fellow who had been teaching in the Dallas area for three years. I broadened my search to states outside my preference area. I began to email principals directly after applying, attaching my resume and glowing letters of recommendation. I spent money getting certified in the states in which I was applying in order to demonstrate how serious I was about each job.
I applied for over 300 jobs that summer. I still have all the automated response emails in my Gmail, as some sort of relic reminding me of what it was like to sit at a computer from 10 AM to 10 PM entering the same information over and over and over. Some of those initial prospects came with interviews in which I felt confident afterwards. Most I never even received an email saying the position had been filled.
By August, I had ran out of money despite serving tables full-time.
Soon, I applied to sub in a more upscale school district about 10 miles outside of Erie.
That year passed and I learned a lot. I learned that subbing was a great experience in classroom management, quickly adapting to situations, and learning techniques to remember students names quickly. I also learned that with subbing came a culture of irresponsibility among myself and the other subs in the district, as we frequently closed the bar after a long day in Miss B’s or Mr. K’s or Ms. G’s (spending money that I didn’t have because I was a sub and this angered the younger, more arrogant me). We’d show up for work the next day looking fresh without anyone every suspecting our previous night’s ventures. Work was steady. There was rarely a day that I wasn’t in the school. Despite being a sub, I became a fixture in the school. I knew the kids and the kids all knew me. Despite switching up classes every day (until the last six weeks of the year, where I filled in for a teacher who went out for medical reasons), I really started feeling like a teacher. It was quite an interesting year - and despite the immaturity of my nights, the substitute teaching truly had a lot of value, both in learning the trade and growing up.
The next spring came and the application process started again. I hated the idea of going through it all again, but I started early. I applied for another 300+ jobs beginning the process in April… and then June came and June went once again. I remember going out to the bar with a group of friends, getting drunk, that stupid kind of drunk fueled by stress and bitterness, and for the first time angrily saying to them, “What the hell more do I need?” And my one friend replied without hesitation: “Experience.” The rub, of course, being that no one wanted to give me any.
I was still angry. I didn’t understand how my resume could be any better - stellar grades, great references, head coaching a state-winning Special Olympics basketball team - what the hell else did I need? Just experience, that bastard experience. The word echoed in my head, a demon hanging over my shoulder at all times.
July came and went. I had accepted the fact that I would be substitute teaching and waiting tables for another year. I considered going back to school full-time. At least my loans would be deferred then. I considered teaching English in South Korea as a friend of mine was, despite this being financially implausible due to my debt. I considered packing up all my shit and splitting town to move in with my cousin in L.A. to do who-knows-what.
Then the call came. Then the second call came.
It was August, I was serving tables and nearly broke, and I finally had two job offers. The journey had been rough. There was a lot of anger over feeling so completely lacking in control over the situation, despite feeling that I had so much to offer as a teacher, that I had so many great ideas if someone would just give me a chance - but then, in some surreal way, it worked out. I even had options. I was in control again.
So, if you’re about to begin the painful process of looking for a teaching job, know that it will not be fun. Know that it might not happen this year. Or even next. But like I tell my friends, all you can do is just keep applying. Eventually, it will work out and you will look back on those stressful, angry years certainly not with longing, but with a strange sense of nostalgia and satisfaction.