The Interview
- Jan 14, 2016
- 10 min read
I wasn’t sure which, but I was either leaving that office with a job or a date.
So you know how they say, when it rains, it pours? Well, at this point in my life, it was more like, when it rains, get ready for a shit storm. In an eight month period, I ended a tumultuous engagement, left my apartment, moved home with my parents, ambushed the dating world, had my backdoor knocked on, and then, just when I thought I was putting the past behind me and reassembling the pieces of my ego… I lost my job.
Really, Universe? Anything else?!
[Side note: don’t ever challenge the universe. There’s always something else. Just ask my friend who called out “anything else?!” and then returned to her car to find a flat tire and a windshield covered in bird poop. Universe: 1, Friend: 0.]
But, true to form, I did not let this defeat me. Oh no, no. Not this girl. I fired up the search engines, found the perfect opening at another school, and swiftly created an undeniably impressive cover letter and resume. Brag? You bet your ass I did. Listen, I don’t half ass anything, except maybe… well no, I really don’t half ass anything. I mean, come on, even my life overhaul was going full force. And I certainly wasn’t going to let this new school miss the opportunity to hire me, what with my killer work ethic and accomplishments. (More importantly, I refused to be defeated by yet, another, blow.)
I had the interview booked in three days.
Pressed, dressed, and ready to impress, I was crazy prepared for that interview. I went in with my teaching portfolio color coded, tabbed, plastic protected, and stacked with great materials and evidence of my educational prowess. I did, however, keep all of these treasures bound in my original portfolio binder. The spine is cracked in the corner and the back cover may be marked up with red pen, but it’s the same binder I'd been using since I started my teaching career. I designed this cheeky front cover that reads, “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield” – a Tennyson quotation from Ulysses that resonated with me when I first read it in high school and has continued to sum up my approach to life and work.
“Tell us, Ms. Danna,” they asked as I dazzled them with my masterful collection, “You’ve got some great stuff in here, but why have you never changed the cover?”
“Because I’ve been using this same binder since I started my teaching journey,” I explained. “I’ve always known I wanted to be a teacher and the reasons I set out to be an educator remain steadfast. The contents and materials in this binder may alter, but it is these values that hold together my professional career, and those values will never change.”
I had the second interview set up before I even left the building. Nailed it.
I went HAM on the prep for my demonstration lesson, a unit on the hero’s journey – how appropriate – and I was on fire. The students were on point, the observers were engaged, and I was as cool as Pharrell in cuffed tuxedo pants. The supervisor was there, the lead teachers stopped by, in walked the principal, and of course I had materials prepared for all of them, and then… who the hell is that guy?
Tall, young, buzzed hair, flashy smile, and helloooo shoulders. Is that a Fitbit sitting beneath your taught and muscly forearm? Perfectly fit slacks and cuffed sleeves on his striped button down that was tucked in with two buttons undone on top. This must be another teacher… or my future husband.
As the students worked, I went over to introduce myself quickly and I handed him a prepared packet of materials.
“Hi,” I whispered extending my hand, in a professional way of course, “Michele Danna.” “Welcome, Ms. Danna,” he smiled and looked back and forth into my eyes, “I’m Gregory Fine, (indeed you are) Assistant Superintendent.” (SERIOUSLY?!)
Alright, Universe, very cute. This guy is beyond Fine, not much older than me, and he’s already Assistant Superintendent of one of the best districts in the state. Are you testing my willpower? Are you going to make me choose between love and my career?? Two can play at this game, Universe.
I finished up the lesson, which I slaughtered by the way, and rejoined the supervisor in her office. She congratulated me on my work and we chatted about the lesson. Then she said that they’d like to meet me in the main office for a follow up.
“With whom will I be meeting?” I asked with perfect grammar. “With the principal,” she responded, “and the Assistant Superintendent.”
Oh boy. Ohhhhhhh boy.
The principal was warm, kind, and offered me a cookie – which I almost accepted, but quickly remembered this was an interview better conducted without crumbs on my face. But Mr. Fine was a whole different story. He grilled me extensively on my content knowledge, being that he was a published expert in the field, and found the one single typo in my entire sacred binder after flipping through it for approximately four seconds. Now I’m sweating and I wish I had taken the cookie. I clung desperately to my composure in the face of the most intimidating (and good looking) interview I had ever been part of. I caught him smirking a little as he tried to throw me off my game, almost as if he enjoyed testing me. But good God, the more he pressed me, the hotter he became. His massive mind matched those ridiculous shoulders, and I found it difficult to articulate my answers and caught myself tripping on words that I can usually slide eloquently into my academic dialogue. Why did I get so shaken by his intelligent hotness, and why wasn’t he wearing a ring?! Yes, I looked.
“Listen,” he asserted, “we like you-” “And we don’t like anybody,” added the principal with a chuckle (thanks, guy). “But we want to make sure we find the perfect fit before we make an offer. We don’t want to mislead you before we’re ready to make a decision.”
I assured them I understood and thanked them both for their time, readying myself for the walk of shame back to my car. “Would you like a cookie for the ride home?” asked the principal.
Yes. Yes, I would.
Well, I was shocked as shit when I checked my voicemail after work the next day.
“Mr. Fine would like to set up a follow-up interview with you.”
How did I pull that one off? Maybe they couldn’t find a better match; I do have a unique skill set.
“In addition to Mr. Fine, with whom will I be interviewing?” I asked again in snobbish English for no other reason but to reassert that I too could hold my own in the grammatical world. “Oh no, Ms. Danna. Mr. Fine said it will just be you two.”
Oh, did he now?
Still unsure of how I got to round three, I knew I had a line to walk. I needed to kick some serious English teacher ass, but I also needed to be professionally hot. I didn’t know if Mr. Fine was impressed by my resume or if he was hot for teacher, but I was going to go in there, hit him with my educational one-two punch, and throw out some well disguised dating feelers. I was either leaving that office with a job or a date.
I arrived early (but not too early) in my straight legged black pants, my good black interview heels (high, but not too high), and a black silk tank that I wear on dates, but I paired it with my favorite Banana Republic blazer – light gray so my eyes pop, well structured, and tailored for success. I went with a neat and perky mid-ponytail and a pair of turquoise studs. I was professional but relaxed, and I meant business, damn it.
I patiently sat in the waiting area of Mr. Fine’s office and smiled at every single person who walked by (as luck would have it, I smiled at the Superintendent who then complimented my earrings, though I had no clue who she was until she came back out later to introduce herself and wish me luck). I could hear Mr. Fine in his office chatting on the phone or with his receptionist about a variety of things, and I heard him say, “I apologize for rushing, but I want to get this all in order before my meeting. I definitely don’t want to rush that.” Take your time, Mr. Fine. I do like a man who doesn’t like to rush. Boss. I mean a boss who doesn’t like to-- oh forget it.
Suddenly, he emerged from his office with a burst of energy, “Hi Michele. Sorry, for the wait, I’ll be just a minute.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Fine,” I responded, rising to shake his hand. “Please,” as we shook, “call me Greg.” You got it, Greg.
As I sat back down to wait, he turned, “Oh, it’s pronounced 'DAN-nuh' right?” “Yes, that’s right. 'Danna', like banana.” “Got it,” he smiled and stared at me like he hadn’t got it, but continued as if still thinking about it, "Michele Danna.” “Yup, that’s me.” He nodded, now he got it, and then continued on his way into the Superintendent’s office.
What the hell was that? I mean, it’s not that hard of a name. There’s literally two letters, just repeated. Unless he was pondering what Michele Fine sounded like. Oh my God. If I married him I would be Michele Fine... Mrs. Fine.
“Just one more sec, Michele,” he smiled as he flew by again, en route to his office.
“I’ll be here!” I joked, surprised more by his energy than anything else. “I’d hope so!” he joked back, and then stopped to look back at me, “I didn’t realize how long your hair was. Oh, right, you had it up in a bun last time,” and then proceeded into his office.
What the hell was THAT?! He noticed my hair and he remembered how I wore it last time? That must be a good sign. Men only notice things like that if they’re interested.
Or if they’re gay. Fuck.
I didn’t give up hope yet, don’t worry. Remember – either a job or a date. He popped his head back out, called me into his office, and closed the door behind me. I surveyed him quickly, putting my best Sherlock skills to work. He was wearing a dark blue short sleeved polo, which showed that he definitely worked out… a lot, and he was still wearing the black Fitbit. His hair was still short, his smile was white and slightly crooked, and his tan was on point. Then again, so was mine – outdoor running season was well under way. His bookshelves were stacked with educational texts, including those he published, and his walls were covered with accolades, certificates, and school spirit. I concluded that I should leave the sleuthing to Benedict Cumberbatch, because I got nothin’.
“So, Michele Danna like banana,” he began and I nodded, “I bet you are surprised to be here.” “Yeah, actually, to be honest I am. I felt that I did terribly in our last interview.” Well, so much for the one-two punch.
“You know I was testing you.” I looked at him and pressed him to continue. “A lot of teachers are getting let go right now and it’s not always easy to tell if someone was released for political reasons or because they couldn’t cut it. You have a strong personality and I was concerned you wouldn’t take kindly to criticism. This district is tough. The expectations are high, the parents want perfection, and we strive for excellence at all levels. It takes someone with a strong conviction to not buckle under that kind of pressure. You did not buckle.”
Huh. At least that’s what he thinks. He might feel differently if he saw me cry-eating that cookie on the way home.
He continued, “I directly questioned if you were good enough to work here, and you explained that you were and then detailed the areas you were already working to improve. You know you’re good, and you’re eager to know where you could be better. You’ll do well wherever you are.”
“To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield,” I heard myself respond. “Ah, Tennyson,” he recognized. “It was on your binder.” I smiled and nodded, surprised he remembered that too. “Now,” he said, “let’s talk.”
And we did, and he was like a totally different person. He wasn’t pressing me and he listened without searching for flaws. He was enthusiastic, but relaxed, his body language was comfortable, yet nervous. He told me about himself and how he came to this position, and he casually dropped into the conversation that he was 32 years old. I couldn’t help but notice how piercing the blue of his shirt made his eyes. We talked about fitness, and about literature, of course, but seriously, it felt like a good first date… in a professional way. Then again, they do say that an interview is like a date. But who are they anyway?
Well, I didn’t leave that office with a date, but I did leave with a job offer and a whole new perspective on my professional trajectory. Yet, I was still unsettled.
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I was good at my job, really good, and I loved it. But I was being let go for the illegitimate reasons. My friends, some of the best teachers I knew from all across the state, were out of their jobs too. Teachers from all different levels of experience were leaving the profession, choosing to test the shark infested waters instead of staying on deck. But there I was, like an asshole sailor, desperately clinging to the ship.
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
In less than a year, everything was different. I went from being almost married, to completely single, my steady job was totally demolished, and now I was questioning my life-long dream of being a teacher. Just like my binder, my values did not change, nor did the things I wanted out of life, but the contents needed updating. I deserved better than how I was treated in my last relationship, and I wanted more than where education was headed. I am good enough, I am smart enough, and I know where I want to grow. Thank you, Mr. Fine… Greg… although I didn’t get dinner out of it, you did restore my confidence to strive, to seek, to find, and damn it, NOT TO YIELD!
Worry not, my friends. I did find out that Mr. Fine may not have been the greatest match for me after all. Allegedly, one of my sister’s friends dated him (the teaching community is small) and said that, while very smart, he was challenging. All those brains and good looks will do that to a guy, I guess. Of course, my sister's friend's name was named Jason… so there’s that too (I should’ve known at the ponytail). Then again, we weren’t sure we were talking about the same guy, but I’m willing to just take the loss on this one.
So there I stood – single, jobless, living with my parents, and the proud owner of two cats.
Like Ulysses, but not nearly as cool, I set out again for open seas. Optimistic, unstoppable, and with absolutely no fucking clue what I was doing next.
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