It has been seven years since I’ve looked for a job. Seven years for my interviewing skills to get rusty. Seven years of not having to “try out” to get a part. I hate trying to find a new job. I guess that’s why I stayed in a job for a year longer than I should have.

When I decided I was leaving my current district in March, I applied EVERYWHERE. I spent weeks figuratively biting my nails, waiting for a call for an interview. For those of you not familiar with education, we work on a contract system. We usually get contracts at the beginning of May and have four weeks or so to sign or resign. It wasn’t even rational for me to expect a call so early in the game.

When the first call came, I was ready for it. The call, not the interview. It was set up on a Monday at noon. Don’t they realize that I would have at least six hours of waiting. SIX HOURS! I experienced the same feelings that I’m sure everyone feels while waiting for an interview—anxiety, nausea, an overwhelming sense of doom, and impending failure. Wait? Do you mean not everyone feels the last two? Huh. Interesting.

The day of the interview came. I gussied myself up—even putting on a little bit of mascara and lip gloss—and went on my way. I arrived, a little shaky, but feeling surprisingly good myself. The campus was pleasant, and I felt very comfortable there. The “feeling” of a place matters more to me than it probably should, but it was okay. This school felt wonderful. I enjoyed sitting in the main office watching the students stroll past me.

My interviewer told me at the beginning that, because they had received so many applicants, the interview was for screening purposes. The interview went very well. Our educational philosophies meshed well. We talked about the direction the school was going with the new Common Core standards. We talked about curriculum. We talked or about an hour—much longer than a typical screening interview. I left feeling confident and with a promise for a call back early the next week.

I figured that I had it in the bag. I was wrong. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday rolled by, still no call. Finally on Thursday, I got an email letting me know that I did not get the job. I was a little distraught. If I had such a good interview, how come I didn’t get the job? Did I not do as well as I thought? Was I deluded? I was trying to be brave and strong, but all I wanted to do was cry. So I did. It helped me to feel better.

I replayed the interview in my head, trying to focus on what I did incorrectly. Then it dawned on me: I wasn’t the reason why I didn’t get the job. Well, I was, but it wasn’t me. She kept on asking me what sports I would be willing to coach a sport. My interest in sports is even lower than my interest in the growth of yuck in an untidy college student’s toilet.

They were willing to turn down a master English teacher with 12 years of experience because I wasn’t a coach. When I asked why I didn’t get the job, they confirmed my suspicions.

I am glad I didn’t get the job. It is apparent that they value athletics over academics. I don’t want to be part of a school with skewed priorities.

Thank you, Universe.

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**Coming soon: Job Search, Part 2.**

Thanks, slightly everything, for sharing your photography on creative commons.