Mama said there’d be days like this … there’d be days like this … Mama said …
Actually … not true! 🙂 My mother or even my mother’s mother could not have predicted “days like this”… several days, in fact, during 2017. If she had, I think I would have done so many things to either prevent or reduce the impact of the pain, agony, and disappointment that I experienced this year. Or … alternatively, I would have found a way to burrow under the covers and hibernate for most of this year, not waking until the proverbial corner had been turned and it was safe, again, to come out and experience the warmth of the sun.
However, I did not have the opportunity to hibernate – or run away – but live in a series of moments that were some of the hardest, most painful, ones I have yet to have experienced.
The journey all began on March 8, 2017. The day, itself, was marked with extreme busyness and attention to details as my department with the school district that I was employed with, hosted a student event called Math Field Day. I was busy with monitoring events, organizing awards and ribbons, and reviewing details. As the last award was given and final photo was taken by a proud parents, I scurried to clean up and my boss and superintendent told me that she wanted to speak to me about something important. Mind you, the time of this request was on or about 6:30 p.m. and I had been at work and involved with these tasks since at least 7:30 a.m. – ah, the life of a school administrator. She (my boss) had me go to the main building of this school, having the site custodian let us in to a random teacher’s room (who interestingly was still on campus for this event and came in, briefly, as she started her conversation). She led with a diversion, or so it seemed, about a potential leave of absence of one of my staff members, and then she announced, “It is a very hard decision for me to make but after much thought I have decided that I am taking your name to the school board tomorrow night to recommend your dismissal at the end of the school year.” Wait …. What???!!! Did I hear that right?! For dismissal? Is this really happening? While, yes, my superintendent had had issue with some of the things that I had done (mostly because I was successful with the varied experience and skill I had brought to this position), I had done absolutely everything she had asked and beyond. No word had been spoken to me about any concerns she may have had since my one and only evaluation for this district on July 2, 2016. (I had been with the district since February 19, 2015). If you are an educator, the dates may seem significant and I really did not have an official job evaluation each school year as outlined in education code. I was stunned to say the least! I asked, “What grounds are being used for dismissal?” “Well …”, she stammered, “You are just not a fit for this school district. All you have to do is find another job and then resign from this one and that’s how it will work.” I asked about a couple more specifics; she shared and I rebutted. She shared another example; I shared facts and data to support my completion of aforementioned. Point … counterpoint … point … counterpoint. And then, I decided to stop the volleying back and forth, grab the “ball”, and run. “Do you need a minute to compose yourself?,” she asked, pushing a box of kleenex in my direction. “No”, I replied, “I’m fine!.” (And no, I was not fine, I was actually mad as Hell but of course I was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing any emotion from myself.) Flashbacks of the way I was bullied and mistreated ran through my head. All the belittling and harsh words that were carefully orchestrated to be shared behind closed doors and only when I was present. The manipulation of all work I did to be twisted as “wrong” and needed to be reworked and replaced within one of her pre-created yellow and blue templates. I had swallowed so many words before this moment … did exactly what I was asked to do … stopped sharing my opinions the minute a stern glance was sent my way. Flashbacks served as an “I told you so …” from my gut and intuition. I thought I could keep such fate at bay with my attempts at compliance but I my stubbornness and perseverance were soon to be sorely defeated.
The next few days … weeks even … are now a blur. The board meeting occurred and a 3-2 vote was cast in favor of letting me go. My phone was on fire and all wires were burning via phone calls, text and Facebook messages. I was wronged; I was innocent. I did not break any laws and did all the things I was told. I had improved systems and test scores and forged relationships with staff, teachers, students, and parents and it did not matter – not one iota! Surely, good will prevail I thought. I will either not lose this job … or something even better will come along before June 30th.
I began my job search journey almost immediately. I polished the dust off my resume; reactivated some job search accounts. I was ready to find that next, right job although I have to admit that I had hoped by some miracle – enveloped in denial – that I would miraculously not lose this job. I had support of many caring, dedicated professionals at my workplace. I felt, however, that I was diagnosed with a fatal, deadly disease and hospice was just around the corner. Many did not know what to even say to me when they saw me. I received more hugs and pats on the back (as well as kind words) during that time period than I have for most of my adult life. Everyone knew … many agreed it was wrong and evil … most knew it was driven just by one person. I had brave souls come forward and send emails and speak on my behalf at board meetings. Yet, the decision was not going to reverse itself.
I submitted several online applications and the first few jobs, I received what would end up being over 100 letters, stating, “Thank you for taking the time to apply for the position XYZ, for the XYZ School District. We were very impressed with the quality of the candidates who applied for the position. Unfortunately, you were not selected to continue on to the next level of this recruitment process. We appreciate your interest and the time and effort that you invested in applying for this position and wish you success in your future endeavors.” In essence … it’s not you, it’s me (us); you’re just not the right “fit”. So, I tried … again … and again … and again …
A few months into this journey, I learned that there is a secret club that exists and no one really talks about. It is similar to the “The Dead Mothers’ Club” that I heard about while watching a HBO documentary. This documentary, that included interviews of famous people whose mothers had died, outlined that one really did not understand living and surviving the loss of a mother until one actually experienced. Having lost both of my parents and several significant family members, I would agree that this premise is true. Therefore, the new secret club that I joined (or was involuntarily signed up for) was “School Administrators Dismissed Without Good Cause” Club. I had a couple of close friends who had experienced their names taken to board as mine was and they became compassionate and truly empathetic listeners. Their advice was on target. Immediately, I applied any advice or counsel I received.
In May, I finally landed a couple of interviews. I purchased some new accessories and clothes for this latest job search endeavor. I had always been told that I interview well. I secured several jobs before this one. I was confidant. I went to the first interview, second interview, third interview, and for at least one of them, I was invited back for a second. The other two, I waited the appropriate amount of time and did not receive the awaited phone call. Soon, an email would come, stating that I was not chosen for the position. I went to the second interview, wearing a different suit and accessories, yet still quite confident. However, the end of the week, I received the dreaded phone call from the HR secretary, stating, “Mr. XYZ wanted me to call you and let you know that a different candidate was selected. We are sorry.” Again, it’s not you, it’s us; you’re just not a fit.
A slight crack in my confidence seemed to appear – similar to a small rock hitting a car windshield – ever so slightly – the crack spread – slowly, carefully, with one rejection after the other. I still hung onto hope with the coming of June which would be my final month with the school district. At this time, I was in alignment with Kubler-Ross’ stages of grieving and I oscillated between denial, bargaining, and anger – sometimes all at once, circling like a cyclone. While searching for a job, I was also carrying out my duties as director as if my final prize would be a big button, proclaiming how I righteously did all that I was told to and following all the rules in spite of how I was being wronged. I know that there was a part of me who really believed that a miracle may happen and that I wouldn’t be released. Yet, I applied and applied. Sprinkled in during this time were a few interviews, and followed by numerous rejection letter/emails again … again … and again … The crack in my confidence was widening, deepening, spreading out of control that soon a myriad of spider web cracks were visible versus one small, tiny line that first appeared.
June 30, 2017 …my last day … came … went … and I did not have a job. I had several applications simmering and an occasional interview scheduled. However, when July 31st came around, I had no game plan for a paycheck. So, I filed a claim for unemployment benefits. I had never filed before. Because I was somewhat bullied or strong-armed into resigning versus and official, final board decision to let me go, I had lots of explaining through email and phone interviews to gain final approval for benefits. Phew! Or so I thought … until I realized that the maximum I would get per month would be only 22% of the salary that I was used to take home. How was I going to afford my car, phone, rent, utilities?!?! I’ve had a lifetime, literally, of being the main bread earner and I could see no other possibility other than finding a job as soon as possible – but the rejection letters kept coming.
With this move to the Los Angeles area, I had taken on the role, again, of being the main source of income with Andres, Thomas’ son, completing his Associates’ and currently working locally in a job paying minimum wage and Thomas’ decision to return to school. I was able to afford such a position and support such a choice but without this job and salary, I did not know how to sustain such an arrangement. Almost immediately, I cashed out a 403b for retirement that I had started a couple of years, prior. In addition, I knew a check was coming to pay out my vacation days — days that I had been hoarding, saving, counting and recounting since I was given my marching orders in March. I still clung to the hope that I would very soon secure a new position just in time for the start of a new school year.
To be continued … to find out the rest of the story, please check out Part II.
Two freeways diverged ... 