for me.
“Hmm,” she said, as she rifled through. “There are a lot of openings in English as a second language. Can you do that?”
“No. You need a whole separate license for that. Look under ‘L’ for ‘Language Arts.’”
Carolyn skipped through several pages of the list. “Language Arts. Oh! Here’s one. At Olson Middle School .”
“Is that it? One job opening in Language Arts for the entire district?” The Minneapolis district has six large high schools, and many more middle schools. I was expecting at least a few jobs open in my area.
“Yeah, unless it would be listed as something else?”
“No,” I said. “That’s what it would be listed as. No, wait, did you look under the section called ‘useless degrees’? Maybe there’s something there?”
Carolyn smiled, refusing to feel sorry for me. “Do you want to apply for the one that’s open?”
“I don’t know. It’s middle school. I’m not experienced in teaching that. Do you know anything about the school?”
“Well, no, but it is on the north side of town.”
“Meaning what?” I enquired.
“Nothing. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Carolyn is a terrible liar. “What?” I demanded.
She sighed. “It’s just that the northern side of Minneapolis is known for being kind of seedy. You know, like there’s a problem with gangs and poverty, that sort of thing. But I’m sure it’s all blown out of proportion.”
“Great,” I said. “So the only job open is teaching 13 year old gang members. Every educator’s dream.”
Carolyn said, “Then don’t apply. There are all the suburban districts, and St. Paul , and private schools. You’ll find something.”
“No,” I said. “If jobs are scarce in this district, then I bet they’re scarce all over. I might as well cover my bases where I can.” I marched over to a secretary. She was sitting in a cubicle covered with pictures of koala bears and Ricky Martin. Her sweatshirt, which I expect she bought before she gained those holiday pounds, read “Proud Parent of CSU Student.” Maybe her son picked it for her. I’m assuming it was her son; a daughter probably would have gotten the size right.
“Excuse me, I would like to apply for a teaching position.” I was oozing professionalism, but the woman did not smile.
Instead she sighed, reached under her desk, and brought up a heavy stack of papers. In a voice that had clearly uttered these words thousands of times already she told me, “You need to fill out the background check form first, and submit that on your way out.” She pointed to the blue sheets of paper that she was holding. “Then you need to get in this form by the end of the week. Make sure you supply a detailed description of all your work experience, and accurate names and phone numbers of previous employers. We also need three letters of recommendation, which should have been written no more than a year ago. Submit those with your application, an official copy of your college transcripts, a current teaching license, and your essay.”
“My essay?” I asked.
She pulled out a form from the bottom of the stack.
“You need to write a 1000-word essay about your goals as a teacher, and your personal educational philosophy. Make sure to describe any powerful influences you may have had from within the profession, and you may also want to mention victories you have had as a teacher.”
I swallowed, and ignored that I was breaking out in a nervous sweat. “And after I submit all of this, do I get an interview with the principal?”
She laughed. “After you submit these forms, if they meet with our approval, you will be called in for an interview with our district hiring supervisors. They will ask you basic questions regarding your educational experience and practices. If you pass this initial interview, then you will be admitted into the Minneapolis school district hiring pool.”
“What does that mean?”
She sighed again, and continued on as if she was
“Hmm,” she said, as she rifled through. “There are a lot of openings in English as a second language. Can you do that?”
“No. You need a whole separate license for that. Look under ‘L’ for ‘Language Arts.’”
Carolyn skipped through several pages of the list. “Language Arts. Oh! Here’s one. At Olson Middle School .”
“Is that it? One job opening in Language Arts for the entire district?” The Minneapolis district has six large high schools, and many more middle schools. I was expecting at least a few jobs open in my area.
“Yeah, unless it would be listed as something else?”
“No,” I said. “That’s what it would be listed as. No, wait, did you look under the section called ‘useless degrees’? Maybe there’s something there?”
Carolyn smiled, refusing to feel sorry for me. “Do you want to apply for the one that’s open?”
“I don’t know. It’s middle school. I’m not experienced in teaching that. Do you know anything about the school?”
“Well, no, but it is on the north side of town.”
“Meaning what?” I enquired.
“Nothing. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Carolyn is a terrible liar. “What?” I demanded.
She sighed. “It’s just that the northern side of Minneapolis is known for being kind of seedy. You know, like there’s a problem with gangs and poverty, that sort of thing. But I’m sure it’s all blown out of proportion.”
“Great,” I said. “So the only job open is teaching 13 year old gang members. Every educator’s dream.”
Carolyn said, “Then don’t apply. There are all the suburban districts, and St. Paul , and private schools. You’ll find something.”
“No,” I said. “If jobs are scarce in this district, then I bet they’re scarce all over. I might as well cover my bases where I can.” I marched over to a secretary. She was sitting in a cubicle covered with pictures of koala bears and Ricky Martin. Her sweatshirt, which I expect she bought before she gained those holiday pounds, read “Proud Parent of CSU Student.” Maybe her son picked it for her. I’m assuming it was her son; a daughter probably would have gotten the size right.
“Excuse me, I would like to apply for a teaching position.” I was oozing professionalism, but the woman did not smile.
Instead she sighed, reached under her desk, and brought up a heavy stack of papers. In a voice that had clearly uttered these words thousands of times already she told me, “You need to fill out the background check form first, and submit that on your way out.” She pointed to the blue sheets of paper that she was holding. “Then you need to get in this form by the end of the week. Make sure you supply a detailed description of all your work experience, and accurate names and phone numbers of previous employers. We also need three letters of recommendation, which should have been written no more than a year ago. Submit those with your application, an official copy of your college transcripts, a current teaching license, and your essay.”
“My essay?” I asked.
She pulled out a form from the bottom of the stack.
“You need to write a 1000-word essay about your goals as a teacher, and your personal educational philosophy. Make sure to describe any powerful influences you may have had from within the profession, and you may also want to mention victories you have had as a teacher.”
I swallowed, and ignored that I was breaking out in a nervous sweat. “And after I submit all of this, do I get an interview with the principal?”
She laughed. “After you submit these forms, if they meet with our approval, you will be called in for an interview with our district hiring supervisors. They will ask you basic questions regarding your educational experience and practices. If you pass this initial interview, then you will be admitted into the Minneapolis school district hiring pool.”
“What does that mean?”
She sighed again, and continued on as if she was
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