Interviewing at an emotional growth school
In the summer of 1998, I had a Master's degree in English, an abandoned girlfriend milling about Boston wondering what she'd done wrong and little conception of what I was going to do with either.
I clearly needed to leave sun-starved Boston and return to California where I'd spent most of my life. That would enable me to make a clean break from the girlfriend (sorry, honey, I know you love me, but I've got to be movin' on, I just got to find myself, I just got to ramble). As for the career part, I could try to land a job in a private high school or possibly get a part-time college gig and take a year figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.
Teaching high school, in my mind, was simply a rest-stop on the highway of vocational choice, filled with gangly people and vociferous smells and pimply adolescents who pissed on the toilet seat. It was not a career choice.
I had driven over an hour from Burbank to the San Bernardino Mountains after interviewing at an elite high school in the Los Angeles area. There a mousy, languid man in spectacles informed me of the brilliance of their students, the rigors of their rigorous curriculum. When I told him I liked to teach through games he reacted as if I had just farted. And when I didn't say "Excuse me" the interview was pretty much over. I expected more of than same at the "alternative school" I was driving towards.
I almost couldn't find the place. Having scurried up the 6,000 feet to Running Springs (a quaint, Tahoe-like town), I followed my directions down a dirt road through isolated cabins and untouched plots of pines until I reached the school--an enormous mountain lodge. The "receptionist" was located in what appeared to be a small wooden tract home. As I waited, I flipped through a binder containing letters from parents of students.
Thank you CEDU for saving my son's life
I want all of your staff to know that we came to you a broken family. Now, we have hope. We have a daughter again.
Words can never say how much you've given us. Before CEDU, my son was in darkness. Now, I can see my son--the joy, the light in his eyes. He talks about doing something with his life. We can never say thank you enough
As I read, the receptionist told me I'd be seeing the headmaster, Will Rodgers, and a student escorted me. He was friendly, and asked some questions which I answered absent-mindedly as I walked into the strangest looking "school" I'd ever seen. The main lodge was gigantic. The entry way ran off down to what appeared to be a wing of classrooms. But we walked forward, into the main lodge--a huge room with a stone fire place as tall as a student and just as wide. I could tell because one was standing in front of it. The stone chimney rose up 30 feet until it hit the ceiling, a massive beamed structure which sloped upwards on both sides giving the feeling that this could have once served as a massive barn. The dark, smoothed oak felt like winter; even though it was a hot august day, it seemed that everybody should be wearing ski gloves and sweaters. Built around the fireplace was sunken stone floor and a cushioned "U"--3 steps on either side of this enlongated couch gave you access to the lodge floor (on which I was walking)--the room was probably 60 feet long and 30 feet wide. There were chairs, sofas, small tables and bookshelves--and there were students milling about, talking, many glancing up curiously at me as we passed by and walked up an oaken staircase to a landing overlooking the lodge. Passing through what must have been the library, we came to the headmaster's office. His door was open and Will told me to come on in and grab a seat. I put on my most charming smile and did a quick mental check-list of "How to succeed in interviews" and sauntered in.
He sat in a simple chair, and two students--girls--sat on a couch nearby. Evidently, or so I thought, he was finishing up a discussion. They didn't seem apologetic, so I figured they weren't in big trouble. Will asked me a few preliminary questions, friendly: where are you from? What's your education like? One of the girls asked a question.
"Why do you want to work at a school like this?"
I was taken a bit off-guard. "Well, I'm not sure I do yet. I mean, I haven't really seen the school yet." I laughed. She didn't.
"Aren't you scared to work with kids like us?" asked the other one.
I smiled--I think condescendingly. Cute kids, but I was getting a bit annoyed. When was the headmaster going to get these kids out of here so we could start the interview? "Um...why should I be scared?"
"Well, we're the screw-ups," said the first. I noticed the girls were huddled close together, arms interlocked. Not like they were a couple...just huddled.
I stumbled through an answer but then another question came. I was charming, I joked a bit--but neither one of the girls cracked a smile. It felt rather warm.
"Did you do anything bad when you were our age?"
"Why do you teach English?"
After a few minutes, it finally dawned on me that this was the interview. After about twenty minutes of the toughest, most pointed questions I have ever been asked during an interview, Mr. Rodgers dismissed the girls.
"Interesting interview," I said, once they had gone. Mr. Rodgers just smiled. Looking back, I think Will was ultimately assessing how I viewed adolescents through my responses. The answers didn't matter. Could I talk with kids? That was the important thing.
He asked me a few pointed questions himself. Was I married or did I have a significant other? If hired, could I commit to working for at least a year? Did I use drugs? But we only talked for a few minutes before he said, "I'd like you to come back for a full day at CEDU and see what we're all about."
So I did.
I clearly needed to leave sun-starved Boston and return to California where I'd spent most of my life. That would enable me to make a clean break from the girlfriend (sorry, honey, I know you love me, but I've got to be movin' on, I just got to find myself, I just got to ramble). As for the career part, I could try to land a job in a private high school or possibly get a part-time college gig and take a year figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.
Teaching high school, in my mind, was simply a rest-stop on the highway of vocational choice, filled with gangly people and vociferous smells and pimply adolescents who pissed on the toilet seat. It was not a career choice.
I had driven over an hour from Burbank to the San Bernardino Mountains after interviewing at an elite high school in the Los Angeles area. There a mousy, languid man in spectacles informed me of the brilliance of their students, the rigors of their rigorous curriculum. When I told him I liked to teach through games he reacted as if I had just farted. And when I didn't say "Excuse me" the interview was pretty much over. I expected more of than same at the "alternative school" I was driving towards.
I almost couldn't find the place. Having scurried up the 6,000 feet to Running Springs (a quaint, Tahoe-like town), I followed my directions down a dirt road through isolated cabins and untouched plots of pines until I reached the school--an enormous mountain lodge. The "receptionist" was located in what appeared to be a small wooden tract home. As I waited, I flipped through a binder containing letters from parents of students.
Thank you CEDU for saving my son's life
I want all of your staff to know that we came to you a broken family. Now, we have hope. We have a daughter again.
Words can never say how much you've given us. Before CEDU, my son was in darkness. Now, I can see my son--the joy, the light in his eyes. He talks about doing something with his life. We can never say thank you enough
As I read, the receptionist told me I'd be seeing the headmaster, Will Rodgers, and a student escorted me. He was friendly, and asked some questions which I answered absent-mindedly as I walked into the strangest looking "school" I'd ever seen. The main lodge was gigantic. The entry way ran off down to what appeared to be a wing of classrooms. But we walked forward, into the main lodge--a huge room with a stone fire place as tall as a student and just as wide. I could tell because one was standing in front of it. The stone chimney rose up 30 feet until it hit the ceiling, a massive beamed structure which sloped upwards on both sides giving the feeling that this could have once served as a massive barn. The dark, smoothed oak felt like winter; even though it was a hot august day, it seemed that everybody should be wearing ski gloves and sweaters. Built around the fireplace was sunken stone floor and a cushioned "U"--3 steps on either side of this enlongated couch gave you access to the lodge floor (on which I was walking)--the room was probably 60 feet long and 30 feet wide. There were chairs, sofas, small tables and bookshelves--and there were students milling about, talking, many glancing up curiously at me as we passed by and walked up an oaken staircase to a landing overlooking the lodge. Passing through what must have been the library, we came to the headmaster's office. His door was open and Will told me to come on in and grab a seat. I put on my most charming smile and did a quick mental check-list of "How to succeed in interviews" and sauntered in.
He sat in a simple chair, and two students--girls--sat on a couch nearby. Evidently, or so I thought, he was finishing up a discussion. They didn't seem apologetic, so I figured they weren't in big trouble. Will asked me a few preliminary questions, friendly: where are you from? What's your education like? One of the girls asked a question.
"Why do you want to work at a school like this?"
I was taken a bit off-guard. "Well, I'm not sure I do yet. I mean, I haven't really seen the school yet." I laughed. She didn't.
"Aren't you scared to work with kids like us?" asked the other one.
I smiled--I think condescendingly. Cute kids, but I was getting a bit annoyed. When was the headmaster going to get these kids out of here so we could start the interview? "Um...why should I be scared?"
"Well, we're the screw-ups," said the first. I noticed the girls were huddled close together, arms interlocked. Not like they were a couple...just huddled.
I stumbled through an answer but then another question came. I was charming, I joked a bit--but neither one of the girls cracked a smile. It felt rather warm.
"Did you do anything bad when you were our age?"
"Why do you teach English?"
After a few minutes, it finally dawned on me that this was the interview. After about twenty minutes of the toughest, most pointed questions I have ever been asked during an interview, Mr. Rodgers dismissed the girls.
"Interesting interview," I said, once they had gone. Mr. Rodgers just smiled. Looking back, I think Will was ultimately assessing how I viewed adolescents through my responses. The answers didn't matter. Could I talk with kids? That was the important thing.
He asked me a few pointed questions himself. Was I married or did I have a significant other? If hired, could I commit to working for at least a year? Did I use drugs? But we only talked for a few minutes before he said, "I'd like you to come back for a full day at CEDU and see what we're all about."
So I did.
posted by jamie_donohoe at 4:10 PM
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