Interview Tale #3, in Which the ATR Teacher Unwittingly Joins an Encounter Group

A PSYCHOBABBLE MEMOIR

by Life in Limbo

msu.edu

Given that I’ve not much on my plate right now other than waiting out a fairly rockin’ storm (with a very nice Merlot) as my children quietly sleep in their beds and friends bunk on my futon, a trip down memory lane seems apropos. 

So let’s travel back in time. 

All the way to June. 

The invitation to this interview came in an e-mail, the day before the actual interview (hey, thanks for the advance notice, guys!). As it was a school that looked promising, both location- and subject-wise, I hastily made plans to have my kids schlepped to their activities without me. Seeing that the e-mail said, “Expect to stay until 5:00,” I tossed an extra yogurt and granola bar in my lunch tote that morning, programmed my GPS for later, and headed off, resumes in hand. 

When I arrived at New World Widget Academy (co-located in Old World High School, which is in the process of phasing-out), we were separated into groups of about 10 and given a tour of the building by some of the staff. What struck me most was that every single staff member (even the administration) looked to be under 30. They were all wearing tank tops, t-shirts, or lanyards with the names of their colleges – Columbia, Fordham, Penn State. 

All the doors of the school were festooned with Ivy League college banners and it was easy to tell the NWWA rooms from the OWHS rooms – the NWWA rooms were freshly painted and equipped with SMART Boards, the OWHS rooms were shabby and equipped with scarred blackboards and (I think) some chalk. The NWWA science labs were chock full of lab equipment and expensive-looking microscopes, but OWHS’s labs looked broken and empty.  My “tour guide” proudly talked about how the NWWA will be taking over more and more of the building as OWHS phases out. She seemed giddy about usurping a school that has a long history in the community. I found it to be profoundly sad. 

After our guided tour, we were brought in to classrooms and given a brief description of the school, its population, and its mission (in NWWA, apparently, EVERYONE poops rainbows and spits butterflies!). Lots of talk about “rigor,” “high expectations” and “data.” Then, after the 10-15 minute speech, she said, ‘If anyone here feels that New World Widget Academy is not a place for them, if they feel that they are not up to the task, this is your time to leave. Please feel free to go now and it will not be held against you.” No one left. What a surprise. 

The next step, we were told, was a group interview. We were brought into a conference room and instructed to sit around a conference table, while three administrators encircled us on the perimeter. As I looked around I saw about 12-15 people, mostly newbies, one obviously newly-excessed veteran teacher, and a few apparent veterans. One of the administrators (all under 35, I would say), said that we would be asked a series of questions and we would go around the table taking turns answering them. 

I was surprised when the questions turned out to me more along the lines of a group therapy session than a job interview. I was asked, “Describe a favorite toy from childhood and tell us what made it so special to you” and “Tell us about a time in your life where you suffered an extreme disappointment and how you overcame it.” My favorite was, “Tell us about a person in your past who had a profound influence in making you the person you are today.” Another was, “Tell us about when someone you love disappointed you in a big way and how you it made you a stronger person.” I felt like I was caught in an impromptu group therapy session. And I didn’t like it one bit. It was also getting near 6p.m. and I was feeling light headed from lack of food, as the yogurt and granola bar were now a distant memory. 

I found this entire process degrading and offensive. I left feeling violated and dirty. I had no idea WHAT these questions had to do with my ability to teach a class, let alone why I had to answer them in front of a group of strangers. If I want to discuss my childhood difficulties, or bare my soul to a group of strangers, I’d hire a therapist, who has a legal obligation to keep her mouth shut. When the question about the “disappointing person in your life” was asked, I was SOOO tempted to have a little fun and make up a story about how my mom was a Valium addict and my dad was a drunk who sent me out to turn tricks when I was 10 so he could buy gin. I even thought about making myself break down and cry – just to see the look on their faces, just for laughs. Seriously, by the time they got to the last question, I was ready to tell them to take their sanctimonious bull **** and shove it where the sun don’t shine. If they had asked one more question, I probably would have. 

The final step in this degrading process was the writing sample. I have been teaching for a total of 14 years, I have a degree in English Literature, I am a published author, I am a certified Literacy Specialist, and I have to turn in a WRITING SAMPLE to “ensure that you can write in a scholarly manner.” The topic was “The Perfect Lesson.” Make me vomit. 

I never heard from that school. Good riddance I say. When I got home, after 7 p.m, I sketched out the basics of this experience to my husband, and asked, “Is that bottle of wine from the other day still around? Because I could really use a glass.” 

“A glass?” he said, “I think you need to finish the bottle.” 

That’s love.

The Waiting Game, in which the ATR Teacher Encounters Newly Minted Teaching Fellows

A LESSON FOR TEACHING FELLOWS

    by Life in Limbo                      

survivorsucks.com

                                              

Clueless.

That was the lasting impression from this encounter.

During a recent interview, I was asked to wait in an office for a period of time while the principal met with other candidates and her network leader. I hadn’t been reading my book for long before I was joined by two teachers, both looking very eager and excited about the prospect of a teaching position. Both looked to be in their mid-twenties. Naturally, we began talking, as people who are thrust together in a room are wont to do. This in spite of my promise to sit and keep my mouth shut. 

They were completely aghast that I have just completed fourteen years of teaching, nine of these as Reading teacher. The female of the two, whom I will call “New-A," naturally asked where I was currently teaching and what the job was like. I explained that I am an ATR and how I ended up in this position. New-A responded, “Why don’t they just place you in another school? Why do you have to go through all this if they have to pay you anyway? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

I responded with a laugh; “You are working for the DOE, New-A, stop expecting things to make sense.” I went on to explain my real theory that the Open Market is not about placing ATR teachers, but really set up to frustrate them so they quit. The real agenda is to get the senior teachers off the payroll so that they can be replaced with cheap newbies, like, well… like you two. At least until you start making some money. Then they’ll throw you out, too. 

I don’t think they quite believed me. They seemed to be skeptical of the need for a degree in education (New-B said, “As long as you know your subject, you’ll be o.k.”). New-A said, “So many teachers are so bad and they just sit around and stay because they can’t do anything else. If you stay in teaching that long it must be because you can’t do anything else.” 

The conversation then turned to the school at which we were waiting to be interviewed. This school is one of the most troubled in the City. It is the only non-screened school in the area, which means it gets the “leftovers” after the other schools have selected the better students. It is in an area rife with poverty, gang violence, and every other social ill you can imagine. I have friends who teach in other schools in the area who say that this school is where they send the kids who get kicked out of their schools (and their schools ain’t all that great, either). There is little parent support. There has been a parade of principals over the years and most of the kids are functioning at level 1 or at low level 2. The building has a history of being out of control, with constant fights and teachers being assaulted. 

While I liked the new principal we had met with, and think she had the right ideas for beginning to move the building forward, I said to New-A and New-B that I couldn’t IMAGINE coming into a building like this with only five weeks of training. In addition, New-A mentioned that she was “certified” (or whatever newly minted Fellows are) in Special Ed, but was interviewing for a general Social Studies position. With her bachelor’s degree in Psychology. 

Well, New-A, fresh from a well-known college and out of school for a whole six weeks, said, “Well, I feel very confident and well-prepared with the five weeks of training I have gotten. I think the DOE really went out of their way to prepare us for anything and I think I can handle any situation they put me in.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I thought, “Honey, you have NO IDEA.” So I said, “What did they tell you to do if a student grabs your behind?” She looked at me blankly and said, “What? Oh, kids will never do that! I doubt that will happen; I can be pretty tough.” And then she flipped her layered and highlighted blonde hair back and shrugged. She went on to say that if anything like that happened she would go straight to administration and insist that the child be removed immediately and placed in another class. Ok, I thought. Good luck with that. I have a feeling that, if she is hired, that this school will be the first place she will have ever encountered minority people that she doesn’t have to tip. 

New-B, the guy, now chimed in. He said, “I look forward to working in a really tough school. It gives me a chance to be a change agent. I will do whatever it takes to reach these children and break the cycle and help them be successful.” (Images of the Borg from Star Trek flashed before my eyes – he’s been assimilated!!) He was very big on the “opportunity to make a difference in the lives of the kids” and “being a positive role model.” 

I asked New-B, “What if they resist you? I have been in schools like this, and it’s a tall order even with two Master’s degrees and years in classrooms like these. How can you do that with five weeks of training?” He said, “They taught us that the key is planning and keeping it positive and building relationships with the kids. I will make them like me and then I’ll have no problems. Make the learning fun.” 

He went on to say that if it’s too hard, he’ll just finish his Master’s degree and move on to something else as the economy improves. He doesn’t see teaching as a lifetime job, anyway. Maybe teach for a couple years and move up to administration or start a charter company. Nice. 

While I cannot blame New-A and New-B for taking advantage of the Teaching Fellows program, I have to say that it is a slap in the face to all of us, ATR or not, to think five weeks of pedagogical “boot camp” can replace years of experience and multiple college degrees. These two seemed like very nice kids,but they were just that – kids (and no, I am not THAT old). They were so unaware of the issues facing teachers in a City classroom that I feel it is downright cruel to hand these two a classroom key and say, “Go for it!” 

Part of me is concerned for them. The other part wants to start a pool and take bets on how long it will be before they curl into the fetal position, sucking their thumbs in a corner while the kids swing from the light fixtures. I say Thanksgiving. Anyone else in?

The Interview II, in which My Kids Become a Concern

ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  TALE

by Life in Limbo

Well, at least it didn’t last six hours. Nope, this principal managed to get me in and out in less than an hour. I must commend her efficient use of time. (Seriously.) 

This was the second “job fair” related interview I was recently invited to, and on the surface, it seemed like a good fit--the principal was engaging and expressed what appeared to be a genuine interest at the “job fair” and came pretty close to offering me the job on the spot. The school was a new school which required interested students to apply. At the “job fair,” the principal said that she wanted her literacy coach to meet with me before she offered me the position because she doesn’t like to appear to be ignoring the input of her advisers. 

As usual, I arrived at the school about fifteen minutes before my scheduled time and was escorted into the principal’s office shortly thereafter, and introduced to the Literacy Coach.  All was looking good until this principal mentioned that she saw on my resume that I have another skill that she imagined could possibly be the makings of an after-school club or activity. I responded that I would gladly consider this as a per-session assignment and that it would probably be more fun than work. 

Her entire demeanor changed as soon as I said, “per-session.” She said, “Now you know in these times that budgets are tight. I heard you say that you would do this per-session, but I am wondering if you would still be as enthusiastic about this if we could not pay you.” I went on to explain that I already do this activity after school and on weekends and that I am paid when I do. I told her that volunteering my time instead of being paid would impact my availability as I would be hesitant to give up a paying gig only to replace it with an unpaid one--this would be the equivalent of taking a pay cut. Her face froze at that point, and the temperature in the a/c-free room dropped by at least 20 degrees. 

She changed the subject abruptly and asked me, “As the parent of young children, I have to ask if your parenting responsibilities and child care situation would prevent you from being able to fully devote yourself to doing whatever it takes to move this school forward.” (I have no idea how she knew I have kids, though she may have seen my “Happy Mother’s Day” bookmark when she came to greet me. It was a gift from my 10 year-old.) I told her that I have always been able to do my job and get my work done while balancing my outside responsibilities. She pursued the topic, saying that teachers need to be “flexible” about working hours and willing to make the students at her school their first priority at all times, and she wondered how I could commit to that while parenting young children. I reminded her that I have always managed do quality work and that my family situation is really not relevant to the conversation at the moment. (Actually, it’s illegal to ask questions like this in an interview; I was trying to be polite.) 

The next topic was instruction. I was asked to describe a typical lesson. My last school used the Reading/Writing Workshop model. I sketched out the components of the workshop, including an Independent reading activity each day. She looked at me coldly and said, “Well, I guess we can say that we will have to work with you on your rigor. Our students don’t have time at the end of a lesson for any “independent work.” When I said that my last school specifically told us to include independent work in each lesson, she ignored it. Instead, she went on to say that the fact that I included independent work showed a lack of academic rigor on my part and that I would certainly need to be brought up to speed on what it means to have high expectations. (Sounded like she was setting me up for a U-rating right there--“You know Ms. Limbo, I had concerns about your academic rigor when you interviewed…” At the very least it was clear that I could expect a zillion snapshots to assess my “rigor”.) 

Needless to say, I was not surprised to get a phone call from the Literacy coach saying that they found a “better” candidate. Not “more suitable.”  Just “better.” Hey, I have to say she showed a bit of class there. Usually no one calls back. 

I find it curious that everything seemed to be going swimmingly until I hesitated to work after school for free and refused to discuss my child care situation with her. The fact that I knew that she can’t insist that I work for free or ask me about my kids/child care situation clearly ticked her off. 

The bottom line? I have a nagging feeling that I was denied this position because I am hesitant to give up a paid after-school job in order to do the same job at her school for free, and because my role as a parent made me less likely to stay late/arrive early in accordance with her whims. I love teaching, I really do. But I refuse to be anyone’s martyr.

The Interview, in which the ATR Teacher Meets One of the New Bureaucrats.

INTERVIEW TALE #1

by Life in Limbo

Six hours. 

No, I am not kidding. 

My gift for hyperbole aside, I recently had a job interview that took up six hours of my day. 

This particular interview resulted from my experience at a recent Absent Teacher Reserve (ATR) "Job Fair," and, unlike past interviews I have received, it was at a school that is a reasonable commute from my home and for a position that I, theoretically, would enjoy and find a good fit. 

I arrived about fifteen minutes before the scheduled time and was told to wait for the principal. After about half an hour, I was ushered into the office with the principal, the parent coordinator, and a faculty member. We proceeded to have a pleasant conversation and I felt that there was a chance that this could be a workable position – the principal seemed to be experienced and pragmatic (not one of those Leadership Academy sociopaths), and the faculty member and parent coordinator were pleasant, candid, and definitely people I could get along with. 

I was feeling like maybe there was something here and agreed when I was asked to wait a bit to interview with someone from the Children First Network (CFN)--so much for principal’s autonomy. I was placed in an empty office and made myself comfortable with my book. 

I waited in this office for about an hour, after which the principal came in and told me that the CFN person was on his way. Another ten minutes passed and I was told to come back in two hours as the CFN person was going to lunch. So much for the grocery shopping and pool outing I had planned for the afternoon. 

Upon my return, I waited another 20 minutes for the arrival of the CFN Human Resources Director of Talent (one of the new administrative positions recently created). 

This guy was an ignorant jerk. One of his first questions was, "Why have you been at a new school every year?" When I mentioned that this is what happens when you are an ATR teacher, he said, "Oh is that how it works? You go somewhere new every year? Why is that?" I had to explain to this guy what an ATR teacher is, and how the ATR pool works, even though I came to the interview by way of a "job fair" that was STRICTLY FOR ATRs. You’d think he’d have some kind of idea of how candidates were being selected for interviews. 

His next line of questioning focused on why the other two schools I was sent to hadn't picked me up. They didn’t have any vacancies in my area, I answered. His response? "Well, I have to wonder why they didn’t at least ask for you back." I explained that to ask me back would require placing me in a non-existent position, and he responded, "Well, I know that if you are as good as you look on paper that a principal can find a way to keep you."

"So why were you U-rated and made an ATR?" he asked.  I explained that I was never U-rated at any time and that I became an ATR teacher when the Reading department (four of us) at my school was eliminated, due to the fact that the Reading students all PASSED the ELA. He still persisted with, "I have to wonder why you haven’t been called back to your old school or either of the other two." I told him that he was asking me questions I could not answer, but that he was free to call the schools and ask the principals directly. 

He then commended me on my "honesty" and "candor" in being "forthcoming" about my ATR status and not lying or trying to hide my "situation." (As if somehow being an ATR means you did something WRONG.) Finally, he wrapped up with the following: "I have to say I have some concerns. After two years as an ATR, it bothers me that no one has picked you up and makes me think that there MUST be something wrong with you that you haven’t mentioned. It just seems like you are past your ‘sell-by’ date." I was escorted out shortly after by the principal, who had been noticeably quiet throughout my interrogation by the "Talent Coach," with the promise that I "will be hearing from" her. I am not holding my breath. 

Let’s keep in mind that this “Talent Coach” makes at least $81,000/yr and is NOT required to have any teaching experience--the job description specifies HR experience, not teaching or even administration.  The fact that he had no clue what ATR status means, how ATRs are assigned, or how one becomes an ATR is pathetic. On top of that, with all the talk about principal autonomy in hiring, I find it curious that his presence completely SHUT DOWN the principal and, apparently, overturned her decision regarding the position I was interviewing for. 

This charade lasted about six hours–most of it spent waiting–showing that the DOE has no regard for our time, regardless of the fact that I was there on my own time and of my own volition. These people had no qualms about hijacking my entire day, and did not even bother to ask if I had any other responsibilities or commitments later in the day. Apparently, if you are an ATR, you are to make yourself available to administration as they see fit, on their terms, and be prepared to stay until they no longer find you entertaining.