Never Say Never

In the spring of 2014, my future husband and I were driving in circles around a wealthy neighborhood about 40 minutes from our home, looking for a hiking area called Poo Poo Point. I always remember this day because at one point, I rolled down my window like I was in a Grey Poupon commercial and asked a random woman, “Excuse me, do you happen to know how to get to Poo Poo Point?” She started to answer in a very friendly manner, then stopped and asked amusedly, “Wait, what’s it called?” Poo Poo Point. It’s my favorite hike, strictly due to the name. 

There’s another reason I’ll remember this day forever. Once we found our way, my husband pulled in to park across from an enormous high school in pristine condition. It reeked to me of pretension. At the time, I was a teacher in a low-income school district about one hour south of there. I looked at the school and scoffed. Then I told my husband, “I would never work at a school like this.” I’m pretty sure I literally stuck my nose into the air. 

My husband now works at that same school as a technology specialist. I teach 15 minutes up the hill from there. We drive past Poo Poo Point every day of our lives and watch the paragliders floating over luscious green mountains. 

And I LOVE my job. 

Here’s what I thought then. Teachers who really want to make a difference only work in poor schools. Wealthy people are pretentious. Parents in high-income school districts are judgmental and overbearing and make teachers’ lives miserable. That’s a hefty load of “black and white” thinking. 

What I know now is: It’s a blessing to teach kids who come to school with their basic physical and emotional needs met. Most parents are pleasant, because most people are reasonably pleasant, especially if you are kind to them. It turns out I’m very effective working with advanced students. Guess what? Even academically gifted students from rich families need great teachers who care about them. I no longer fall into an abyss of panic every time I think about my job. Instead of planning my escape route from teaching, I’m now sketching out my 30 year plan in the education field.

You learn as you grow older that it’s perfectly okay for your perspectives to shift over time. In fact, you shouldn’t be the same person with the exact same beliefs when you’re 30 as you were when you were 25. We should be growing. 

My husband does make fun of me often for saying that I would NEVER work in the school district we are both in now. I’m so happy I was so wrong.

In my previous school district, I was suffering quite a bit of anxiety by my third year. I felt ineffective. Guilty for not being a better teacher for these students who were living in severe trauma. In some way, I took on their trauma. At the time, I didn’t know that secondary, or “vicarious” trauma was an actual thing identified by psychologists, but I sure felt it. 

It wasn’t an easy decision to leave my old school. My core beliefs told me I was giving up on myself as a teacher, giving up on those students in need, taking the easy route. But for my health and sanity, I took a leap of faith and decided to apply elsewhere. 

I took it for granted that I would easily get a teaching job in another district. My resume looked good, my references sounded good. Even though I usually feel petrified during job interviews, I had managed to obtain most positions I’d ever applied to. This time, my interviews felt like a total breeze. I had been facilitating trainings and doing presentations constantly in my side business, and I was in a state of flow; my confidence had never been higher. 

After interviewing for four positions in the late spring of 2015, I received zero offers. Complete and total rejection. I know for a fact there are a very limited number of qualified Spanish teachers in my state, so obtaining a position should not have been difficult. After making my peace with the idea of returning to the same school, I received a last minute call in late summer. My husband and I were on the tail end of a month-long road trip, and I interviewed over the phone from a hotel room in Las Vegas. A few days later, while wondering around the quaint town of Missoula, Montana, they called and offered me the job. I’m fairly certain I was the only candidate left on planet earth available for this position.

Being rejected in four interviews was the best thing that has ever happened to me professionally. The school I landed at is something really special. Most teachers there have been there forever. People don’t leave this school. The position is a perfect fit for my skills and a manageable workload for a mother of young children. I’m good at what I do.

In hindsight, it’s easy to see when the puzzle pieces have serendipitously fallen into place. What’s not easy to believe is that your current rejection is a blessing. Lifestyle coach Rachel Hollis has a beautiful way of explaining the cliché, “Everything happens for a reason.” She says: “It’s not the events that happen; it’s the meaning you assign to them.”

I could have let those four rejections blow up my confidence. Instead, I kept my head down and kept applying, kept interviewing. I knew I needed out of my current job, and I had to stay focused on that goal. I chose to be grateful that I got the job on the fifth try. If I was their last choice, I would make sure they knew I was a great choice.  

Now I know the universe had my back. Even though I had said NEVER. Things work out. Not in the way you thought they would, but often in ways far better than imagined. Go for it. And never say never.