The morning of an interview is never fun. At least I wouldn't think so, I hadn't gone through many of these. I was a recent college graduate searching for my first big girl job, and the first job of my teaching career. I had a brand new suit. I had prepared. I had practiced interview questions, and had my teaching philosophy down. I also had one successful interview under my belt which boosted my confidence and lowered the stakes of this next interview.
Wearing my crisp new suit with interview folder and resumes in hand, I walked into a coffee shop and sat among many other suit-wearing folder-carrying individuals. I had over an hour to drink my iced latte, relax, and peruse the school district website so that I could rock what was the first question in my last interview "what do you know about our district?"
I was feeling good. Walking to central office, I had my head held high. I felt like a "real person"! It was a beautiful fall day, sunny with a cool fall breeze. Once I made it through the large double doors, I confidently made my way to the superintendent's office. I approached the front desk, and was "greeted" by two middle aged women with not so natural hair color talking about their latest experience at the nail salon. It was as if I was watching some kind of trashy reality show about a cast of ditsy women pretending to be secretaries. "Hello. My name is Helen Webb-Prosser and I am here for an interview." They reacted as if my announcement rudely disrupted their very important nail polish discussion.
"Have a seat and Joanne will be right with you", one of the dyed haired ladies squeaked with a fake smile as she pointed to a chair in the waiting area. Once I was seated, the nail polish discussion resumed.
I picked up the newspaper that was sprawled out on a table next to me. The front page detailed the flood that had happened the day before. City streets closed, homes without power, and schools shut down. Amy and I had spent the day listening to the news while our street had been closed for most of the day. Today however, was bright and sunny, at least it was outside.
After several minutes of skimming the article and reminiscing about my own flood experience, a short round woman covered in large blue floral print appeared. She extended her hand as I got up from my seat, "Helen? Nice to meet you". I shook her hand and gave the appropriate response as I looked down at her tight curls and large round glasses. Standing just shy of five feet myself, it is not very often that I am looking down during a handshake.
She led me into a room, where we sat at a round table. My mind quickly snapped back into interview mode. Good thing, because she was not wasting any time. Before she was even properly seated in her chair, she began the questioning. "What were your biggest challenges in each of your student teaching placements?" I had expected that one, and presented what I believed to be a good answer. She stared at me blankly, her elbow on the table, her chin supported in her hand. Trying not to let her lack of enthusiasm affect me, I rounded out my answer with some examples. "What units did you teach?" Another question that I could answer like someone who actually knew something about teaching. The moment I finished speaking however, she jumped out of her chair and directed me to the door. "We'll get back to you." I almost felt like I was being dragged out by my collar. I had been in her office for no more than five minutes!
Feeling a little less bad ass, I exited the building through the large double doors, greeted by the cool crisp breeze. The spring in my step had gone. I made my way back to the coffee shop where everything, and everyone, was just how I had left it. I ordered another iced latte and sat down to study the bus schedule. I could still make the early bus. Latte in hand, I made my way back up the hill to the bus stop.
3:30 came and went, leaving me stranded on the sidewalk. As cars and pedestrians passed, I was getting strange looks. I felt like they thought I was one of those guys standing on street corners encouraging passers by to praise Jesus. My folder was my Bible. Still no bus.
Finally, about 15 minutes late, I saw the bus come over the crest of the hill. It flashed "OOB" over the windshield. While it was stopped at a light I scurried to find my bus fare before raising my arm to signal for it to let me on. The glass doors opened, and I climbed up the steps juggling my folder, my bag and my coffee with one arm, and my change in the other. Clinking my coins into the box, I said thank you to the driver and made my way to a seet. The bus was pretty full, but I spotted a seat near the back. As I walked toward what I believed to be the end of my hell, an empty seat, the bus began to move again. I could feel the lid of my coffee begin to separate from its base. I tried to redistribute my belongings and grab the bottom of the cup, but the sudden motion of the bus had thrown off my balance. I heard some guy say, "Be careful!" as the cup flew gracefully through the air. As if in slow motion, the cup poured the entire contents of what was a full cup of coffee onto the bus floor. Ice cubes crashed before the plastic cup made contact and began to roll down the aisle of the bus.
Exhausted, mortified and under-caffeinated, I made my way to my seat. I could do nothing but watch my liquid sanity flow through the grooves in the bus floor as the bus made its way down the bumpy hilly road. Ice cubes slipped and slid up and down, up and down. The next time the bus stopped, I was afraid that someone was going to slip in my mess. The man who got on was a tall guy, young, wearing jeans down to his knees and a backward baseball cap. He didn't slip, but he did partially step on the cup which pushed it in my direction. It was shattered along with my pride.
Finally, after what felt like the longest bus ride ever, we arrived at my stop. I quickly made my way off the bus. The stop was only at the end of my street. I just had to walk a few blocks before I would be safe at home. I could close the door, leaving the big scary world behind me. I walked behind a guy dressed in a button down shirt and shiny black dress shoes. He was reading a novel as he walked.
As I was pondering the silly looking gentleman ahead of me, a bright red car came to a stop on the opposite side of the street. The driver side window rolled down, and a friendly face called out "Helen, would you like a ride?" I had finally made contact with someone I knew. It had been a long time since I had seen her. Starving for a positive interaction, I crossed the street and gladly accepted the ride.
Getting in the car, I felt something familiar. My left hearing aid fell out of my ear. It is amazing the number of times this has happened, even after getting them fixed, even after getting new ones. Based on previous results of this incident, I figured I would pick it up off the floor when I got out of the car.
When got out of the car, I combed the floor for my hearing aid. I did not see it. My friend got out and joined me in the search. She pulled out a few small plastic objects which she thought may be it, but I showed her the one that still rested behind my right ear, and she returned the mystery plastic pieces under the dark cavernous seat.
After several minutes of searching, we decided to drive back to the place where I got into the car. Neither of us remembered the exact location, but we drove up and back at a snail's pace scanning the street as we went. Still no hearing aid. Back at the house empty handed, we agreed that she would look in the car again. When she left, I went into the house. I carefully peeled off each layer of my suit, hoping that it had gotten caught up in my collar, or gone down my shirt or something.
Once I had changed, I checked all the folds of the suit one last time before heading back out to look again. I was now wearing grungy house clothes, and my red folder had been carelessly thrown on the couch in the rush.
Back outside, there was a bit of chill in the air resulting from the setting of the sun as well as the panicked feeling in my gut. I walked all the way back to the spot, scanning the ground as I walked. All the while I was wondering, why did I get in that car? Why did I buy that second latte that I was sure by now had developed into a nice sticky coating on the bus floor.
I searched until I couldn't take it any more. What else was I going to do? My first instinct was to call my mommy.
She convinced me to go back out and look one last time. She also instructed me to call the hearing aid place to see if there was any kind of warranty.
Slightly calmed down by the sound of my mother's voice and her matter of fact instructions, I sheepishly left a message at the hearing aid office. They had closed a couple of hours ago. I braced myself for the evening bitter cold and went out to search again. I finally had to give up. I had no feeling in my fingers, and emotionally, I could not take it anymore. I returned home, closing the door to the world behind me, I curled up on the couch in defeat.
I must have fallen asleep then, because next thing I knew, Amy arrived home around 11. Before I was fully awake, she was by the door armed with a flashlight, "Let's go out and look again. I am the queen of finding things after all". This was true! Amy has this magical power of finding things--everything from a missing book, misplaced keys, even my ID card. I lose it, she finds it.
So we went out again. Amy's determination and energy were helpful, though I have no idea where it came from after a full day of work. We got in the car and drove to the estimated location of the incident. "You wait here in the warm car," she said. "I will see if I can find it". I could not believe her! She was not only going to help me look, she insisted on taking on the mission herself!
I was amazed by her determination, but as time wore on I convinced myself that all we were doing was making sure we had done everything we could. Just like those surgeons who fail to save a life, but are comforted by the fact that they tried everything before breaking the news to the family. In my case, "the family" was Vocational Rehabilitation, who had just forked over a large chunk of change for the new hearing aids.
After about an hour, it was close to midnight. This hell day would soon be over, with or without...let's face it, without the hearing aid. Amy returned empty handed.
"Let me just look back here, then we can go", she told me. Tired eyes were disguised by her look of determination.
She disappeared into the darkness again. Not ten minutes later, she came back to my car window, flashlight pointed to her outstretched palm. There it was!!!!
I could not say a word. All I could do was utter squeaks of amazement "Hhhhooowww??" I finally put together a recognizable word. "I told you I would find it", Amy said.
I experienced many challenges that day. With each new obstacle I came to, my strength and hope continued to weaken. But by the end however, I realized that it is through relationships with others that hope is possible. Even on the loneliest and most trying of days, we never have to go at life alone.
