I had drawn (drew) the number five. It was not my lucky day. This dastardly digit was an unfortunate lottery number. Drawing it meant only one thing(,): should any teaching positions become available in the District, I would be the last to be rehired. Devastated, I ran into the ladies’ restroom and sobbed like a baby. My friend, Jan, tried to comfort me, but in my heart, I was convinced (knew) that life, as I knew it, was over. It had not been easy finding a teaching job two years before, and now I had no job and no security. Starting over, all over again. I was quite dramatic at age 23!
Oh, sure, there was lots of gossip about a single young female teacher living and working in (the) this community. (I often thought that if ) If I had done half of what people thought I had done, I would have been leading quite an exceptionally scandalous life! My friend, Jan, had been a wonderful guide to life in Calaveras County. She encouraged me to participate in the local community theater and photography classes. Because I felt so welcomed and hopeful for a future here, the loss of my job was not only heartbreaking but scary. I didn’t want to start all over again in a new school, new town, new life. I had begun to sprout some roots, only to have them plucked out. All I could see in my future was complete uncertainty.
Luckily, there was a voice of reason screaming in my head. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get busy finding another job!” I contacted the Teacher Placement Office at Chico State University and actively checked openings. There seemed to be little hope since most of the school districts in California were also (experiencing a) financially pinched. I feared returning (that I might have to go back) to my old salesclerk job and living (live) with my parents until I could afford independence again. One step forward, two steps back.
Then one day I received a curious letter from the placement office (was sent to me) regarding teaching opportunities in Australia. Australia? They (You) might as well have said Siberia! But then I thought, why not just apply? It would at least afford me a chance to practice my interview skills, so I did.
My interview was in Chico, the biggest city in Butte County, CA. so I took off with my one and only appropriate interview dress hanging carefully in the back of my car. It was (would be) a four-hour drive with a dash into a service station restroom to change my clothes before my appointment. It was (is) a good thing my dress had a matching jacket because with the stress-induced weight gain, I could not zip the dress up all the way!
The job offer came in the mail about a (one) week later. I knew nothing (Without knowing anything) about (the) money exchange rates, so I interpreted the salary offer to be far less than what I had been making in the U.S., which wasn’t saying much. The money was not at all appealing (to say the least). The proposed contract (also did not offer any) offered no clue as to a specific location or grade level, just that I would be working for the Queensland State Schools. Queensland? Where’s that? Too many unknowns.
Oh, sure, there was lots of gossip about a single young female teacher living and working in (the) this community. (I often thought that if ) If I had done half of what people thought I had done, I would have been leading quite an exceptionally scandalous life! My friend, Jan, had been a wonderful guide to life in Calaveras County. She encouraged me to participate in the local community theater and photography classes. Because I felt so welcomed and hopeful for a future here, the loss of my job was not only heartbreaking but scary. I didn’t want to start all over again in a new school, new town, new life. I had begun to sprout some roots, only to have them plucked out. All I could see in my future was complete uncertainty.
Luckily, there was a voice of reason screaming in my head. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get busy finding another job!” I contacted the Teacher Placement Office at Chico State University and actively checked openings. There seemed to be little hope since most of the school districts in California were also (experiencing a) financially pinched. I feared returning (that I might have to go back) to my old salesclerk job and living (live) with my parents until I could afford independence again. One step forward, two steps back.
Then one day I received a curious letter from the placement office (was sent to me) regarding teaching opportunities in Australia. Australia? They (You) might as well have said Siberia! But then I thought, why not just apply? It would at least afford me a chance to practice my interview skills, so I did.
My interview was in Chico, the biggest city in Butte County, CA. so I took off with my one and only appropriate interview dress hanging carefully in the back of my car. It was (would be) a four-hour drive with a dash into a service station restroom to change my clothes before my appointment. It was (is) a good thing my dress had a matching jacket because with the stress-induced weight gain, I could not zip the dress up all the way!
The job offer came in the mail about a (one) week later. I knew nothing (Without knowing anything) about (the) money exchange rates, so I interpreted the salary offer to be far less than what I had been making in the U.S., which wasn’t saying much. The money was not at all appealing (to say the least). The proposed contract (also did not offer any) offered no clue as to a specific location or grade level, just that I would be working for the Queensland State Schools. Queensland? Where’s that? Too many unknowns.