Читать книгу Forgive Us Our Trespasses - Diane Gensler - Страница 9

Chapter 1

Our Father, who art in Heaven

My counselor at Jewish Vocational Services suggested I apply for a teaching position in a private or parochial school.

“Teaching is teaching no matter where you do it,” she said.

After my long-term substitute experiences, I took work as a temporary secretary for several years. I enjoyed helping out in various offices, but I had been doing it for so long it was starting to feel permanent. I hadn’t given up my dream of becoming a full-time teacher, and I needed guidance. Despite all my experience in the public school system, the county still hadn’t come calling, even after the extensive interview process.

I had been working with my counselor for many months, and I trusted her judgment. In addition, the next school year was approaching rapidly.

Even though I knew I was a teacher through and through, she still put me through a barrage of personality, interest and aptitude tests. The results were always the same, showing an inclination for teaching.

The Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator classified me as an ISFJ /ESFJ (Introverted and Extroverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging). This type of person is sympathetic and concerned with people. It was no surprise that teaching is listed as a possible career along with secretarial work, library work, counseling, and a few others.

The Strong Interest Inventory results read that I “have specifically defined interests in the following basic areas: writing, office practices and teaching.” How accurate is that?!

The Kuder Preference Record gave me a high score in literary interest which lists the jobs of novelist, historian, teacher, actor, news reporter, editor, drama critic, librarian and book reviewer. Except for news reporter, all of these jobs are “right on the money!”

There was no denying that teaching was my calling, so my counselor focused on pursuing only teaching positions.

On her advice, I answered a help wanted ad for a local parochial school. A week or so later I was sitting in the principal’s office for an interview. It was almost 100 degrees that August day, as I sat there in my interview outfit—a white shirt beneath a long-sleeved collarless red button down jacket, a long black skirt, nude panty hose, and black patent leather dress shoes. My long, curly hair was down, covering my neck and shoulders.

“Sorry the air conditioning is broken,” Mr. Z began, gesturing to the noiseless unit in the window. “Feel free to make yourself more comfortable.” He looked at me as though he expected me to unbutton my jacket.

I didn’t move a muscle, literally, as I was afraid to even change positions. They say you only get seven seconds to make a good first impression. My seven seconds were up, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’m fine,” I responded, as the nylon stuck to my legs which stuck to his black leather sofa. I really wanted to kick off my shoes, rip off my hose and tear off my blazer. But I was focused only on getting this job. My dedication to teaching and my fortitude for wanting this job must have shown in my willingness to take a sweat bath in my clothes.

Mr. Z started by telling me that he is not a member of the clergy but a lay person.

A member of the clergy? What’s that? Oh, a priest or minister, I suppose. Why would he be that? Oh, I guess some prinicpals are. I didn’t expect him to be.

After he asked me a few general questions, he explained that he was looking for a language arts teacher for one class each for grades 6, 7, and 8.

Oh dear. That’s three separate lesson plans every day.

I knew that was a tremendous amount of work. I had taught five different ability levels of one grade for one subject, and even that was a challenge. But I smiled and indicated I was still interested.

At one point, Mr. Z read from the contract I would have to sign if I took the job. It was a list of qualities he was looking for in the teacher he was hiring, and one of the items said, “Displays Christian values.”

“I’m not Christian,” I said.

“Yes,” he responded.

Yes? Does he already know? How? I know by law he’s not allowed to ask what my religion is. I’m going to keep my mouth shut. I think it’s better if I don’t say anything. I really want this job, and if I tell him, then I may not get it even though that’s discrimination. Am I making a mistake? Perhaps I should tell him and get it out in the open. No, I don’t think so. I’m not going to volunteer that I’m Jewish. Although I think he knows.

Perhaps it was my last name. Or perhaps it was my curly hair and long nose. Maybe he and his staff could sniff us out like detection dogs they use for drugs. Maybe he was descended from Nazis, so it was in his blood to ferret us out. Or perhaps it was all in my head and I was imagining that he already knew.

“That won’t be a problem,” he answered. You don’t have to be a Christian to display Christian values.”

“Oh,” was all I could muster. I’d have to let that sink in.

“How many applicants do you have for this position?” I asked.

“Two others,” he answered. “One is a social studies teacher, but she would be okay teaching English. The other is an elementary school teacher.”

“You don’t want them; you want me!” I declared, more boldly than ever in my life. “I’m the secondary English language arts teacher you are looking for.”

Did I really just say that?

Honestly, I didn’t think that neither a social studies teacher with no experience teaching English nor an elementary school teacher would do well teaching English in a middle school.

Perhaps it was my declaration that helped, because he offered me the job at the end of the interview. I accepted right away, even though the salary was a mere $17,000 a year.

He sent me to the school office with paperwork to complete and told me to see the secretary. She wasn’t hard to find, as there was only one. She stopped typing on her brown IBM electric typewriter to ask me how she could help. I told her what I needed, and she directed me to pull up a chair to her desk.

After a few minutes of filling out forms, she pushed her reading glasses down her nose, looked at me, and said, “I noticed that you aren’t Catholic.”

How does she know that? Maybe the principal checked off “none of the above” under Catholic religious denominations.

“I’m as far away from Catholic as you can be,” I replied, thinking that Judaism was the opposite extreme since I knew absolutely nothing about Catholicism.

“You’re Jewish?”

I nodded. She must have drawn that conclusion from my previous statement. The question itself was making me perspire even more.

“Jews actually have a lot in common with Catholics, more so than some other religions,” she said smiling. “You’d be surprised.”

I felt somewhat relieved, as this could have gone several different ways — She could have shredded my paperwork and told me to leave, marched to the principal’s office and asked if he was insane, or interrogated me and asked if I knew what I was doing, which I was beginning to wonder at this point.

Instead she said, “Don’t worry. We’re glad you’re here.”

This made me feel welcome. It wouldn’t take long to find how mistaken I was.