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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2004
Eeny-Meeny-Miney Interviews

The principal turned and looked me in the eye. “During this interview for new special education teacher at our high school, we may interrupt you or ask more questions to get you to clarify your responses.”

“Great.” I smiled. I was glad to hear they were willing to pull knowledge out of me. “Feel free to ask as many questions as you’d like.”

The principal narrowed her eyes at my smile, caught the assistant principal’s eye, then stared at the paperwork in front of her.

I lost my smile. Have you ever smiled at someone who didn’t smile back? Yeah. Cold. I gauged the temperature in the room. Chilly. Very chilly. I exhaled quietly as I shifted around in my seat trying to get comfortable.

“Tell us about your education and background.” P said while looking at the form in front of her.

“Ok.” Both VP and P were staring at their forms. No eye contact? They weren’t going to look at me at all? I cleared my throat. “I went to a State University in New York. I have a Bachelor’s degree in elementary education and a Master’s in special education.”

“Is there anything more?” P asked the paperwork in front of her.

“No.” I said. What does she mean, is there anything more? I have a Master’s degree, for God’s sake.

VP cleared her throat. “Where have you taught? Please fill us in on your teaching experiences.”

I listed off names of schools and districts, being sure to throw in my middle school and high school special education teaching experience from the same district I was applying in, while they scribbled furiously. It was strange interviewing without eye contact. There were two teachers in the room, but they weren’t asking questions or writing anything down. The teachers looked uncomfortable as if they were about to sentence me to life in prison. They refused to catch my eye when I looked in their direction.

“Is there any other teaching experience you’d care to mention?” P asked, flatly.

“I’ve covered it all.” I smiled as I scrunched my toes up in my shoes. “Would you like another copy of my resume?”

“No.” P said, tapping my carefully stapled papers with the tip of her pen while she consulted her form.

“Good.” I said. This was confusing me. Was I being tested on my resume? Why would they ask about my job experiences, then spend valuable interview time writing them down when they could have simply attached my resume to their precious form?

I was thirsty. There was a yellow, plastic pitcher of water on the table. The four women were sipping their water out of little paper cups. I was dying for a drink, but hadn’t been granted water privileges. I kept my thirst to myself.

“Has there ever been a time when you weren’t able to motivate students?” VP asked.

“Of course.”

“What did you do to get your students back on track?”

(Yeah. No. I wouldn’t mention the old motivators… cookies, candy and money. That’s probably not what they were looking for.) “Well.” I said. “Usually when a student isn’t working, the assignment is too difficult. I modify the assignment to make it easier.”

VP Shook her head. “What if that doesn’t work? What else would you do?”

Hmmm. She must not be a special ed teacher. Usually making an assignment easier is enough to get most students working. “Then I would move a student to another location in the room, away from his friends.”

She frowned. “What if that doesn’t work? What else would you do?”

“Let’s see.” I said, thinking back to teaching high school. Man. Those high school kids were the least motivated bunch I had ever taught. “If I moved a student and he still didn’t want to work, I would remind him I don’t give homework to students who are willing to work every minute through the class. If he didn’t start working, I would threaten him with homework.”

She dropped her shoulders, appearing to be totally unimpressed with my techniques. “What else would you do?”

Ding, ding, ding. Was this one of those examples where I was missing the right answer? It was starting to feel that way. I squinted my eyes and remembered back to an unmotivated student. “I would give him a motivated student to work with, to see if that student could get him on track.”

She leaned back in her chair and tightened her lips. “What if that didn’t work?”

I smiled. They seemed to be playing a game of ‘let’s stress out the interviewee.’ I wondered why? Would I win the game by getting stressed out, or by not letting them see me sweat? I leaned back in my chair and remembered how I used to play grammar-ball with students to wake them up. No. Not a good time to mention anything fun. These women might explode all over the place. “I would sit next to the student and help him myself. Most students are willing to work when the teacher is offering one-to-one help.”

She exhaled quickly. “And if that didn’t work?”

I exhaled slowly. “Well.” I said. “It has been rare in my teaching experience that I have gotten to this level and had a student unwilling to work. I would quietly ask the student if he needed anything. Sometimes a poor writer is unwilling to write unless he has a very sharp point on his pencil.”

VP looked away then back at me with a totally blank expression. “What else would you do?”

Ok. That’s it. The VP is off my Christmas card list for asking too many questions without expression. Maybe I’d send both women an anonymous gift. The “Ms. Manners Book of Smiling” ought to do the trick.

I nodded my head as if I agreed with VP, more had to be done. “When I taught high school I had a student who reached ‘the wall’ because the night before someone had pulled a gun on him at work. In middle school a boy went home from school to find his mother had turned his bedroom into a guest room and he was sleeping in the closet. He was very upset that she had gone through all of his belongings. These boys needed time to talk to the school counselor before they could concentrate on work.”

VP maintained her blank expression when she asked, “What if talking to the student didn’t work?”

(Not me, but some teachers would want to kick the student repeatedly until he begged to be allowed to get his work done.)

Really. Enough of this. What answer are they looking for? I wanted to call a ‘time out’ and ask for a more clarifying question. How about smoke signals? “Well. Then I would tell the student that he was clearly having a bad day and that we all have bad days from time to time. I would let the student know that he owed me a good day tomorrow, and suggest he ‘chill out’ till class was over. I wouldn’t write him up or push him any harder. This student has a learning disability that he’s been struggling with his whole life. I’ve pushed enough for one day.”

She shook her head. “What if THAT didn’t work?”

(Not me, but some people might call the parents of the students this VP has expelled or suspended from school. Um. She may not have listened to their facts. The parents might consider fighting any disciplinary decisions she has made.)

I froze. VP wasn’t listening to me. I just said I would let the student relax till class was over, knowing something awful might be going on in his life. I know when to stop pushing on kids. I had just excused my invisible student from working for the remainder of the period. I looked at the principal. Her eyes were rolling back in her head. She was falling asleep. (Could she be visualizing my invisible boy? Was I able to get him to work in her dreams? YES or NO)

I wonder how many mean interviews they were holding for this position of special education teacher? Hundreds? The interview continued. I was interrogated (without bright lights) on how I would back down from teaching a lesson that the principal wouldn’t approve of. They wanted a list of mistakes I had made as a teacher and a guarantee they weren’t repeatable. I was questioned on my understanding of special education knowledge.

I kept reminding myself that I was in the principal’s office for an interview, and not a disciplinary hearing. I sat there wondering what fun a staff meeting might be with this bunch. Um. I’d rather wash my kitchen floor.

I would find out later that the interview was called the Haberman, named after a man who devised questions to deduce teachers who had a love of the craft and people who picked a teaching career based on a love of long summer vacations. I don’t know who Haberman is, but I’ll bet he’s not a public school teacher. Any man who encourages a stressful, aggressive, mean interview isn’t likely to be a man who has ever spent time in a real classroom. Maybe leading a chain gang?

I wasn’t asked about my philosophy of teaching, my manner of teaching reading, how I felt about inclusion programs for teaching remediation, or my knowledge of informal assessments. Any special education teacher worth her salt has to know a lot about informal assessments. Why didn’t they ask the important things?

Didn’t they know I was interviewing them too? I was seeking a community of people I wanted to work with. I certainly hadn’t found it yet. I would never, ever consider full time employment at a school utilizing these interviewing techniques. Who would? A VP who wasn’t listening and a P who was falling asleep. Were their aberrations scripted into the Haberman or were they adlibbing? Um. Who cares?

My stomach was turning flip-flops the next day as I walked into an elementary school for another interview. What if they also used the Haberman to interview special education teachers? I couldn’t do it two days in a row. I’d probably go screaming out of the building, never to be seen again. Why put myself through that kind of torture? I’d rather go on welfare. (Yeah. I know. I’d have to go on welfare.)

The principal greeted me at the door and we chatted as she led me to her office. The office manager handed me a bottle of water and wished me good luck. The principal told me I would have fifteen minutes to look over the interview questions, then I would meet with a team of seven educators who would ask the questions. She encouraged me to make notes on the question sheet.

This interview was as different as the level of the school. The elementary school’s questions were on target, and there were lots of smiles being thrown around at random. They gave me a chance to tell what I knew about teaching and even asked extensive questions about informal assessments. They were willing to answer my questions, and I was thanked for coming in.

I went home and waited for the phone to ring. I was worried the high school would call first.

“Hello, Holly? This is the principal from the elementary school where you interviewed today. I would like you to know you are the top candidate in our search for a special education teacher.”

“How nice.” Um. Let’s not talk about the weather….

“I can’t believe you want to work here. You’re very qualified.”

“Thank you. I enjoyed meeting your staff. What NICE people.”

She laughed. “I wanted to call you, right away, before another school snatched you up.”

I held my breath. “Oh. Thanks. Great.”

She took a deep breath. “I would like to offer you the job of special education teacher at our school.”

PHEW.

Wanna try another column? How about #180 Forced Simplicity which is about Cool-guy trying to force me to make his dinner.

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