I had graduated with honors in May, and by late July, I had eagerly accepted my first teaching job in central California. I loaded up my Saturn with the belongings I thought necessary and assured my mom that I would rent an apartment in a good location and find a Goodwill or Salvation Army for whatever I might need.
Driving across the country excited me, but the journey took me longer than I had planned. I stopped at an amusement park, the Grand Canyon, and other attractions that billboards told me I just couldn't miss. By the time I reached California, I had little more than a week to find an apartment and get organized. Yeah, right!
Since I had been hired at a Midwest job fair, the administrator expected me to report to the offices the Monday before school started. The Monday, that is, that I arrived in California. The enormous high school complex made me think twice. Could I really handle a job teaching high school theater? Would the students respect and listen to someone only five years older than they?
Well, after Mr. Oats, one of the assistant principals, finished his comprehensive tour of the campus and his lengthy dissertation on new teacher expectations, I panicked. I had thought I would have a week to get settled, but there were new teacher meetings to attend. I had no time to apartment hunt. So, I found a cheap motel that rented rooms by the week and stacked my boxes in a corner. I fell into bed each night that week after midnight only to be up at five in the morning. I had a grade book to set up, curriculum to learn, and lesson plans to write.
By the weekend, I was exhausted and willing to pay for a second week at the motel; even though, it was located, I had come to realize, in a “rent by the hour” operation. I busied myself typing and preparing; if not that, sleeping. If the sun shone, I didn’t know.
Monday morning the alarm seemed to shriek its warning to get up. As I dressed, I realized I was shaking. I ran my schedule over in my head as I drove through traffic that hadn’t existed the week before.
As the students filed into the classroom behind the theater, I felt small. Many of these creatures dwarfed my 5’4” frame. I soon learned the distressing fact that counselors dumped a wide variety of students who had no interest in theater into theater courses, especially first year theater courses.
As the final bell of the day rang, releasing the students, I realized I had survived the first full week of my teaching career. My stomach growled and I realized that I was starving. What I really wanted was a large iced caramel coffee and an order of cottage fries from Sam's Bistro. The quiet restaurant was just what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves.
While I sat under an umbrella on the outdoor patio, I enjoyed the warm breeze coming off the ocean. The salty aroma of the ocean calmed my nerves as I ordered.
"So, you made it through your first week. Congrats. Coffee’s on me." I had become a regular at Sam’s, and Jeff had been my waiter. I knew it was expensive, but even if I had had the energy to shop for groceries let alone cook in the evening, the motel room didn’t have the facilities.
When Jeff came back with my coffee, he had removed his apron and had an iced coffee for himself. "Mind if I join you?"
"No." The cool iciness of the drink soothed my throat. "It’d be nice to talk to someone other than a student. It's so different here."
"Where are you from?"
"Illinois.”
“Why so far from home?”
“I took the first job I was offered. I told the recruiter that I was willing to move anywhere. Now, I'm not sure. I'm looking at a weekend with nothing to do."
"Are you serious?” Jeff cut in. “You're in Cali. There's always something to do."
"Well, I suppose I’ll have to check the local newspaper for events."
"Look," Jeff interrupted my thought, "if you wouldn't think I was being to forward, I could show you around town and take you to the local music festival."
"I've still got to find an apartment I can afford and unpack." I tried to sound firm, but Jeff's offer sounded wonderful. I could use time away from work.
“You’re not living in your car, are you?”
“No.”
"Then, I could pick you up tomorrow and help you apartment shop. I know a couple of places that have vacancies. Then, I could help you unpack. That is if you wouldn't mind. Look, think it over and call me." He handed me a napkin on which he had scrawled his name and number.
(next installment on Thursday)
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