"This is a big shift for you"

I scored an interview today! Second interview since my search began, back in September. This time, someone finally looked at my resume and wanted to know more, albeit for a job that requires a minimum of a high school education, preferably an Associates Degree. Foot in the door. That was the only thing on my mind as I prepped for an ambiguous position at the revered hospital in town. I told myself that I was not nervous. Why would I be? I can be discreet, multi-task and stay calm under pressure. And if a high school graduate is qualified, then I can roll with the best of them. 

I am notoriously early for my responsibilities, and today was no exception. Navigate a ten story parking garage to take a few elevators up, then down, to a secluded hospital wing? Forty-five minutes prior to my interview, I found myself sitting outside radiology picking cat hair off my pants and trying to beat the next level of "Whirly Word". As I sat in the standard institutional foamy chairs, I realized that what I was trying to do was to fit in as a patient, nonchalantly waiting for my last name to be called so I could have a purpose. The horror of inadequacy flared through my cheeks and I scurried to the bathroom to run icy water over my pulse points. Why did I choose a polyester shirt? Skinny pants and pink grosgrain flats? I closed my eyes as the water soothed my wrists and I contemplated pulling the cord to alert a nurse that I needed help in the bathroom. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Four breaths later and toilet paper in my armpits I was heading to the clerical office, fifteen minutes early for my interview.

"We have each applicant perform a typing test. Recreate this letter, using the proper format. I'll be sitting right here if you have any questions."

Thank God for Mavis Beacon typing lessons and schooling in proper letter formats. Nailed the letter, while inconspicuously wiping beads of nerves from my forehead and nose. 

"D is running a little late. She'll be with you as soon as she's out of her meeting." 

Meeting? Do you mean another interview with an applicant who had a time slot earlier than mine? Oh God. If it was another interview, they've been in there for a long time. Deep breathing. Readjust the toilet paper under my arms by rolling my shoulders up to my ears. I realized I was sitting in an empty cubicle, with scant traces of a previous occupant. Pizza menus tacked to the wall; colorful paperclips neatly arranged by the keyboard; a list of in-house extensions, hilighted in neon. The women behind my cubicle were rattling about the horrors of Facebook and their teenagers who conned them into getting an account, interrupted, only briefly, by a phone call to be redirected to the proper department. 

"I mean, that girl who went missing in North Conway last month probably had a secret account, met a guy, and arranged to have him pick her up. And you know, they only tell us about the account they want us to know about. Things just aren't the same as they used to be." 

As a teacher, I have been on the other side of this conversation numerous times and it took my entire strength not to peek my head around the corner and alleviate some of their frantic misgivings. My restraint may have also been guided by my fear of losing my armpit tissues, but I was also curious to hear a conversation about teens that was not tainted by an educator. Is this my new life? I felt a little bit of an impostor, but maybe this is what it's like to be on the outside.

Fifteen minutes after my scheduled start time I was called into the interview room. As she perused my online application and poorly formatted resume (thanks to the software employers insist on using) she paused at my level of education. "A teacher with a master's degree. This is a big shift for you." Her eyes scanned the rest of my credentials, but before she could speculate, I seized my opportunity:

"I loved teaching. I do love teaching. But I am looking for a change of venue, where I can still use my . . . passion. I've never been reprimanded. I've never been late. I am kind and love computer programs and I am respected and reliable and there is no common core or bubbling tests and I am patient and highly skilled in reading and writing and articulate and compassionate and am cool under pressure and innovative and supportive and love team work and am obsessed with literature." 

Fifty minutes later I walked out of her office with a suggestion for a position I had not applied for, and an invitation to shadow. Validation, of sorts, for the skills I have learned while being a passionate educator. Validation that I do not have to sacrifice as much as I thought. Is this the end of the line for me? Never. But it is a platform from which I can finally jump into a promising chaos of rejuvenation.