Job Search

I graduated from Mount Marty College in 1990 when the job market for first-year teachers was a challenging landscape rife with competition and anxiety. My first task during the job search would be creating a resume, so I wrote down my limited skills and experiences to submit to a local resume creator. Once I received the newly minted resume, I sifted through classified ads in local newspapers and subscribed to a national newsletter advertising open positions across the United States.

It was an era before the digital age, with no social media platforms or online application systems. I typed up fresh cover letters and mailed in applications for every available Language Arts position in the Midwest. Without the offer of even an interview, each rejection letter felt personal. Yet amid the uncertainty, I was fueled by a passion to end my fast-food career and a desire to move out of my parent's home, so I opened the search to include my college minor, K-12 vocal music.

Eventually, I received a call from the Corsica Public School offering an interview for a vocal music position.  Located only thirty miles from my hometown, Corsica, South Dakota is a tight knit community where everyone knows one another and local traditions run deep. I grew up competing against the town's students, and my college roommate, Mindy, grew up there. I believed I was perfect for the job, so I did my best to prepare. I asked Mindy a variety of questions about the school and town. Also, I checked out a book from the local library to prepare for the interview by practicing insightful responses to canned questions.

On the big day, I dressed in the navy blue suit my parents bought me for college graduation. I hopped into my 1977 Mercury Comet and sped down Highway 42 toward my destination. Devoid of air conditioning and unable to open the windows for fear of my applied Aqua Net freezing my hair into spiked madness, the summer drive left me dripping in perspiration. I pulled up to the high school, removed most of my makeup attempting to dry my sweaty face, and stepped from my oven on wheels to face my destiny.

I yanked on my jacket to cover the sweat rings under my arms and prayed my wobbly legs could carry me. I reached the building, opened the heavy metal door, and marched into the cool interior of Corsica Public High School. Superintendent Vern DeGeest welcomed me with a firm handshake. I followed him down a long hallway leading to a small meeting room full of school board members. These six men held my future in their calloused hands.

The stocky, bearded man to my right began the interview with a perplexing and seemingly unrelated question: "Do you golf?"

Cocking my head and stifling nervous laughter, I replied, "No, but my dad sure loves the sport."

"Aw shucks," he exclaimed, "my wife's group needs a fourth member."

This strange query confused me and prompted me to contemplate my lack of golf skills rather than focusing on my job qualifications. The absurdity was compounded as the interviewer appeared genuinely serious, seemingly interpreting the answer as a reflection of my personality and teaching qualifications.

Across the table, a thin man in tan slacks and Polo shirt turned the meeting into a surreal, almost comedic experience by asking, "What kind of music would you have the kids perform at the Christmas concert?"

Thankfully I knew the town housed 99.99% Christians, so I confidently answered, "Traditional Christmas music, of course. It wouldn't be Christmas without 'Frosty the Snowman' and 'Silent Night'."

My reply inspired much head nodding and smiles of approval. I don't remember much more of the dialogue as bewilderment set in and I wondered if this was an unconventional interrogation or a bizarre audition for a talent show. Whichever the case, I hoped my ability to navigate the unexpected somehow translated into impressive and relevant responses.

Back in the parking lot, I stripped off my heavy jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and climbed into the blue interior of my little Ford. I rolled down both windows and drove out of town relieved after what felt like an eternal interview. The seventy mile an hour drive back to Ethan blew off the remnants of anxiety that had built up during the interview, and I wondered how long it would take to find out if I had secured the job.

As I entered my familial home, the phone rang. I answered it and listened as Mr. DeGeest offered me the position. A wave of relief washed over me, transforming the tension in my shoulders to buoyant lightness. I could envision my new music room, the colleagues I would soon meet, and the contributions I was eager to make. This opportunity was not just an end to a grueling four and a half years of college, but a thrilling reward for my hard work and dedication. The possibilities seemed endless!