The Day I Found Out Dreams Don't Come True

My dream was never to be a princess or a rock star. I never desired to travel the world and discover uncharted territory or save someone’s life in a hospital. My expectations in life were much simpler – and I thought more realistic. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a teacher, making a positive difference in the lives of children. I had aspirations to instill a love of learning and curiosity in the minds of our youth and to provide a safe, welcoming environment for those children who really need it.

People always tell you when you’re little that you can grow up to be whatever you want to be. They say all it takes is a hard work and dedication. So I believed them. I set my goal – to go to college to become a teacher. I knew it before I stepped foot on campus at University of Portland for a visit in the summer of 2003. My questions were only about the teaching program and what kind of teacher preparation they could offer me. There were endless orientations and introduction classes where professors would tell us it was perfectly acceptable to change our minds. They warned us not everyone is meant to be a teacher, and we were still young. Most students didn’t even choose a major until sophomore year. But I knew before I even went to college that there was nothing else I could see myself doing for the rest of my life besides teaching children and no one was going to change my mind.

I chose UP for several reasons, but the most important was the caliber of their teacher education program. I would be in a classroom every week from the beginning of freshman year to the end of senior year. I would have more hours of experience in a classroom than I could get with any other college in the state of Oregon. And having a teaching license from UP meant that 95% of the graduating Ed majors were placed in a classroom right after graduation. That was my dream – that’s what I wanted.

My four years at UP were filled with endless new experiences. I learned to navigate public transportation to get to and from the schools I was working at. I spent endless hours in class with a bunch of girls who reminded me of the snobby, materialistic and fake girls I avoided in high school. I passed up the spontaneous midnight McDonald’s runs with the girls because I needed to be in bed earlier enough to wake up in time for school the next day. Never once did college life take priority over my classes and student teaching. I even roped my friends into helping me prepare the handmade games for my over-the-top work sample during the soap operas they watched in my room at night. My Friday nights were rarely spent at the free concerts being offered on campus – I could usually be found in the classroom I shared with a mentor teacher, preparing for the next week’s reading centers. I was driven, and nothing was going to get in the way.

I knew that in the teaching profession, it is all about knowing the right people. Hundreds of people may be applying for the same position, but the one who stands out will get the job. So I had to work on making myself stand out. I went back to my roots in Hillsboro, reconnecting with former principals and teachers. I attended social events with the teachers in Portland Public Schools. I emailed friends-of-friends in California, and even a principal who was the sister of a restaurant owner we knew, grasping at any straws I could get.

One day, I received a call from the mother of a friend I had in high school. She had let me job shadow her kindergarten class during my senior year of high school. She told me she had done the math, and thought I might be graduating with a teaching license. She wanted me to teach with her. She ended up fighting for me, and got me a half-time, temporary position teaching kindergarten at her school for the next fall. This was it! I had met my goal – being placed in a classroom right after graduation! I was one of the first people in my graduating class to get a teaching position – in a kindergarten class, no less! (Apparently something very rare for first-year teachers to be assigned.) It was a hard decision to accept the job because it was half-time and temporary, but it was where I wanted to be: in the Hillsboro School District, with early childhood-aged children. After asking for the advice of anyone and everyone I could think of, I took the job. They all assured me that this was a step in the right direction – my foot was in the door, and temporary positions always lead to something permanent. I believed them.

I spent my first year working as hard as I knew how. I did everything I could to go above and beyond to make myself stand out to rehire in a permanent position. I stayed after school for hours after my contract required, preparing and planning and eating lunch in the staff room to stay connected. I willingly attended every training opportunity offered to me, even when it meant planning for two days of a sub in 20 minutes’ time. I subbed around the building in the afternoons every chance I got to become familiar with the other teachers and students. When I would walk my class to P.E., other students in the hall would know who I was and say hi when they passed by and I felt like I was getting somewhere. I went to social events after school and attended an overnight conference to represent our district’s union. I was active in the first year teacher meetings and welcoming to the visits made my by ‘mentor coach’ from the district. I took advantage of the tuition reimbursement program and got started right away with work towards my Masters. When meetings were taking place after school, I stayed, even though I wasn’t required to. I sacrificed a lot of ‘friend’ time by having to cut our long-distance phone conversations short at night so I could go to sleep, only to get up at 5 a.m. to start my teaching day. I even took up several side jobs to make up for the half-time that I was not working. It was completely exhausting and very humbling to be working so hard – but it was all to make my dreams come true. Because after all, I could grow up to be anything I wanted to be with enough hard work and dedication.

My family never did come to meet my first class, or even see the room. Few of them even turned into the parking lot to drive around. (With the exception of my dad, who came in briefly one day after school to drop off my cell phone that I had forgotten at home.) I had convinced myself that one day when I had a full-time class and my very own classroom, it might be promising enough for them to check it out. It was all part of the process. I had to prove I was in it for the long-haul.

The goal, when I accepted the position, was to move into a full-time, permanent position for the next school year. Little did I know, the economy was about to crash. Of course, the economy affected everyone, but I had no idea what it was going to do to me. My mind went through the worst emotional rollercoaster I had ever experienced in my short 23 years of life. One day, they told me the former kindergarten teacher would be returning and I’d be out – the next day, she had decided to stay home and raise her baby and I could keep my job. I knew better than to trust just any rumor. After all, the week before school started, I was easily convinced into believing enrollment was too low to keep my job and I might be cut before the year even started. I wasn’t going to let myself go through that again, so I made back-up plans. On a whim, I decided to apply for the Disney College Program. I had applied before, but UP would not accept the credits, and my parents were not about to let me take a semester off to go play with Mickey Mouse. But this time was different. I didn’t have any college obligations, my teaching contract was temporary, and the program was now being offered in California – which is a lot closer than Florida! I got the internship and secured a spot by accepting the position, with the understanding that I would have to decline if I was offered a classroom.

As the end of the school year came closer, rumors started flying again. The position that at one time had been mine if I wanted it was now up in the air. They did not know if they could keep temporary employees, as the district was experiencing a fatal deficit. Mentally, I had prepared myself to go to California and work for the Mouse. I would be back in January, and though I would be hurting to make insurance payments each month due to loss of benefits, I could sub in the district for the remainder of the year and try again for a classroom in the fall.

Three days before we were supposed to be given the news about next year’s status, a teacher came to tell me the union would be fighting to rehire temps to replace those teachers retiring. Though I tried not to, I started becoming excited at the prospect of being able to stay and teach. I could keep my benefits and my retirement plan wouldn’t be screwed up. I could continue to play my saxophone at UP and pay reasonable rent to live at my parent’s new house. This rumor was magnified when the teacher I share my classroom with found out she might not be returning to take her position due to some misunderstandings with retirement plans and they would need me to stay where I was.

At that point, I was stressing about the possibility of having to decide between accepting a classroom position, or going to California and experiencing the freedom I had been craving. But I knew I had until June 8 to prepare myself.

On the way back from taking my kinders to the bus on June 5, I ran into the principal, a man who very closely resembles the character of ‘Andy’ from NBC’s The Office. He was avoiding eye contact, and asked if I had a second. When he pulled me into his office, I thought he wanted to speak with me about a sketchy parent we had been struggling with for the past few weeks. When I sat down in that chair I had sat in less than a year ago when they offered me the job, he sighed, and I knew it wasn’t good. Never once in the movies or books do they portray the villain to be the quiet, soft-spoken one. In my fairy tale, however, my dreams were crushed by the good guy. I know the situation was out of his hands, and I can not harbor any bad feelings towards my principal, but I couldn’t help but feel like he was sucking what little sugar-coating I had left in my world right out from under me.

His sigh was deeper than the usual. He looked away and down and didn’t skip a beat when he told me they had nothing to offer me for the next year. He quickly followed this statement with an assurance that all temps would be at the top of the sub list for the next year and he was grateful that I had the ‘Disney thing’ to fall back on. I will never know how, but I managed to handle myself with poise and thank him for bringing me into the school and giving me my first teaching job. I actually felt bad for the guy for having to deliver this news – because I was not the only one he would have to tell that day. I left his office quickly, avoiding conversation with other teachers as I walked back to my classroom. I told the other two kinder teachers, and though it was a Friday, I left without preparing anything for the coming week. I just couldn’t be there any more.

I managed to make it to my car before the words really hit me. Sure, I knew it was a possibility, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear it being said out loud. I sat there for a while before I called my parents, who were on their way to board a ship for the first cruise of their lives, to tell them what happened. While I was giving the news to my mom, I broke down into tears, all the while feeling awful for temporarily taking away the carefree feeling of their vacation. I think my mom could tell I had just had my heart broken, because while she would usually tell me to ‘get over it’ when I started crying to her, she had a genuine and patient tone to her voice when she said she was sorry.

As I drove home, I started to feel really lonely. I called my friend Christine, who can usually cheer me up in any situation, and she didn’t answer her phone. I knew I was driving home to an empty house, but I just couldn’t bear to face anyone right then. I was embarrassed and felt defeated. All of my hard-work and all of my sacrifices were for nothing. I had done everything I could to get where I wanted to be when I ‘grew up’ and with a few words, all of my dreams were shattered.

At home, I started to question whether or not I did everything I could have. Maybe things would have been different if I hadn’t been so open about having a back-up plan in California, maybe if I had asked to go to more trainings and joined the other teachers in the lunch room more often, my meeting with David would have had a different ending. I began to think of all the parents who had written recommendations for me and requested me to be their child’s teacher for the coming year. What were they going to think when they heard the news? How was I supposed to face the women at church who were teachers in the district and had helped me along the way? What would the other girls in my graduating class think when they found out? How were people going to react when they hear that I’m headed off to Disneyland to work, with my college degree? How long would it be before I got to teach again? Would I ever get to teach again? What kind of hoops will I have to jump through now to get a job?

I don’t know how much time passed while I was in this daze, but eventually my phone rang – and it was Shelly, one of the other kinder teachers. I composed myself as best I could and answered, only to hear her wobbly voice tell me Jody had been let go, too. This meant another teacher from another school would be in our classroom next year, and most likely not too happy about being transferred from wherever they were. Shelly was crushed. She sniffed as she told me she had to go – there was a last-minute meeting in the library to announce the other cuts being made.

Later that afternoon, I received an email from the principal informing the staff of the cuts: myself and two others were completely let go, while three of the newer teachers in the building were being transferred. My Facebook and email exploded with comments of sympathy and offers for hugs and letters of recommendation. Apparently I had missed out on the ‘cry/hug fest’ that took place after David announced the news in the library. I felt blessed to have missed that, because I would have completely lost composure had I been there.
In the darkness of my empty house, it became a reality. The dream I had thought I was making come true was about to take a drastic, if not fatal, turn. Sure, I had known that being cut was a possibility, but nothing could have prepared me for actually hearing those words. Going to California was something I wanted to do, but not because it was a last resort. I had thought it would be by choice.
As I gave the news to other friends and family members, I got a common response: ‘Well, you kind of knew it was coming, didn’t you?’ or ‘Well, now we can just come visit you in Disneyland!’ And while I know this is true, it does not help the fact that I have just been thrown completely off-course from achieving my dream. It didn’t matter that I knew all the right people. It didn’t matter that I had sacrificed time with friends and family. It didn’t matter that I had worked so hard. Someone has just told me I can’t be whatever I want to be when I grow up. No one cares if you’re hard-working or dedicated. When it comes down to it, you’re just another number in the system. The first thing to be cut when times get hard – no matter how much of yourself you’ve put into it.

The worst part is, my story is only one of many. There are six other teachers who were affected in just my building, let alone the entire district. While no one person can be blamed, it is a sad and heart-breaking thing to think of the effects it will have on these teachers and their families. It might be easier if there was a big, giant dragon to slay or bad guy to lock up. Aren’t we supposed to have a happy ending with our dream?

In the grand scheme of things, I am one of the lucky ones. I have a back-up plan. I don’t have mouths to feed or a house to pay off. I can pick up and go without obligations. But what about the other teachers? Who will be their hero at the end so they can live happily ever after?

When I pack up my classroom at the end of this year, it will be bittersweet. Teaching is not everything I thought it was. It’s not just about creating a place for kids to be their best. It’s not just about making a difference in a child’s life. It’s also about fighting tooth and nail against an enemy that can’t always be seen. It’s about resilience and humility and trying to out-do someone else just to keep your job. They don’t train you for that in undergrad.

Sure, I’ll go to California and have the time of my life – I don’t doubt that for a second. It may be a blessing in disguise. What I have lost through this experience, however, is that magical and optimistic belief that dreams come true. What do I teach my students now?