Unforgettable Hires – Tattletales From The Principal
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Stories too unbelievable to be true, too entertaining to miss!

“You don’t know what you got until you got it!”


I want you to imagine a feminine (and pretty) version of Marlon Brando playing the Godfather. She was a Maltese nun who wore black kneesocks under the long skirt of her habit and she hired me to teach English at a Catholic high school in 1976—after I insisted on having her interview me.

Originally when I spoke with her on the phone about the position, she assured me that since she knew me (she had been my chemistry and physics teacher in my own high school years) there was no reason to have an interview or provide references. I practically had to demand an interview saying that the person she knew and remembered was a 16-year-old girl; I wanted her to know I was different now, a professional, a teacher, an organized and efficient adult person. When we finally sat down to talk, she told me that she usually ended up hiring the “first person who came through the door” as it saved a lot of time and seemed to work as well as any other method of hiring. I was shocked. Incredulous. Horrified. Now, all these years and hundreds of interviews later, I will admit that I can agree with her unorthodox theory. I, too, discovered that you don’t know what you got until you got it!

Little did I realize in 1976 that I would be involved in interviewing and selecting staff members to hire in the years to come; as the years passed, I kept remembering Sister’s penchant for hiring the “first person who walked through the door.” In retrospect, I guess it’s as good a method as any of the scientific ones now touted by Human Resource departments all over the planet. Slick resumes, glowing letters of recommendation, assurances from the voice on the telephone that this person would certainly be “re-hired in a moment” dance in my head as I remember the many applicants I interviewed, hired and who ultimately surprised, shocked or completely befuddled me at some point in their employment. Keep in mind that these people came through the interviews with flying colors; I was always convinced that they would be solid, stable and excellent people who would do their jobs with dedication, energy and enthusiasm—after all, their interviews were so very good.

Meet the Hires:

Kevin
came from a military background, had worked with a variety of grade levels and could be nicknamed “Mr. Pragmatic.” His portfolio was filled with creatively designed and executed lessons. His enthusiasm circled his head like tufts of curly hair and the smile of a full beard. How could I know that one month into the school year, he would appear in my office at 7:15 a.m. and reveal that he was lonely. “Sue, I am lonely,” he managed to say, sounding like he was strangling on the four little words. Without even thinking I assured him that no one had ever said those words to me before—certainly not in my office, and certainly not in a professional context and I was at a bit of a loss as to how to respond. He stared at me, blinked his butterscotch-colored eyes and repeated the sentence again.

I think I started babbling about meeting with his colleagues during common prep times, or making sure he ate lunch in the staff room as opposed to eating a sandwich at his classroom desk, things that could make his existence at the school less lonely. He indicated that would not be enough as he was “deeply lonely” and hoped that we could meet weekly to discuss his loneliness and come up with solutions. It was a very long year of weekly encounters and I vowed to include the question “Are you lonely?” to my listing of future interview questions. (Kevin, his wife and his loneliness moved to another state at the end of that school year.)

Organized right down to the coral nail polish which peeked out of her stylish open-toed pumps, Kathleen was the answer to a prayer when we were trying to find a teacher mid-year after a previous one had abruptly left for another position. Business Education teachers were not easy to find, so Kathleen’s excellent resume and complimentary letters of recommendation, along with her stated eagerness to work at a private high school, were a welcome relief. She had just moved to Milwaukee from out of state and could start work immediately. What a surprise to discover that her statement that she liked to use the “inquiry method” to tantalize students translated to “I won’t talk to students during class.” She believed that students should read the directions, the book, the assignment and then figure out how to do things on their own. She would not answer questions, respond to queries or say anything to her students except “Read the directions.” She believed the “trial and error” approach eventually was the best teacher. That may be in an advanced class where students already had the rudiments of understanding, but it did not work well for a first course in Keyboarding. Some of these students did not even know how to turn the machines on; trial and error only led to more trial and mostly error. Eventually she was willing to state to the principal and me that she “didn’t believe in conversing with students about anything.” Too bad her openness about that topic didn’t go further than her open-toed shoes at the interview.

Dean’s List. President of her sorority. Winner of at least five major awards at her high school graduation. Sounds perfect, right? Once again I was fooled. Serena was a high school teacher by day and (it turned out) had another full-time job as a third shift floor coordinator at a group home. Most days she was late for school and I later found out that a student from her Period 1 class would secretly let her in the building at an extrance far from administrative offices and eyes. It was the 80’s and Flashdance had made its distinctive mark on fashion—torn sweatshirts, tights and ballet leggings—an outfit this teacher embraced as her very own. The day I happened to drop in to her homeroom to ask a question and found her sitting at her desk, head resplendent with hot rollers while she peered at her newly-drawn eyebrows in a makeup mirror complete with lit bulbs perched on her desk, I knew that this was obviously something the “Dean” never knew before his list was compiled. She ended up leaving the school before Easter that year and I just recently threw away her resume which had found its way to a far corner of my bottom desk drawer. Reading it over, I certainly would have interviewed her for a job just based on what was there; the resume had passed the test of time, even if the person had not.

If anything, I suspected that Tom might be just a little too “laid back” to run a chemistry and science lab. His hair was longish at a time when no one else’s was and I could see the hint of where his earring left its hexagonal impression on his earlobe. The letter from his cooperating teacher was filled with such superlatives that I also looked for the hint of a halo above his head. The first red flag was when he told his students he needed to be called by his “stage name.” The second red flag was when he greeted the students holding a beaker of melting orange juice concentrate and drank it down claiming that adding “water” diluted its best properties. Despite the threadbare corduroy jackets, sandals without socks and hippie-esque outer package, I am convinced he came to us directly from a training camp for SS soldiers. It was a clear case of what you see isn’t what you get. The consequence for talking in his class or questioning his teaching tactics was standing in the hall with your nose pressed against a circle on the wall. He parked his bicycle locked to a bathroom stall on the third floor. Clearly, he was not a good match for our school; too bad that fact wasn’t clearly indicated on his resume or hinted at during the interview. I was more convinced than ever that I must be asking the wrong questions. I needed to include “What is your stage name?” and “Where do you like to park your bicycle?”

...and the Supporting Cast:

The woman sitting in front of me must be too good to be true. Athletic Director. Admissions experience. Certified to teach four different subjects. Three other schools were vying to hire her as we spoke about the potential for employment at my high school. Luckily, Jill chose us.

Luckily it only took the seniors four weeks to work up the nerve to come and tell the administrators that they arrived to class each day and were told to “do what you want.” Luckily a parent called to complain that there was a teacher having “burping contests” with a class which included her 9th grade daughter. Luckily no real damage was done when she pulled out a starter pistol and shot it off near the speech teacher’s face, startling the poor soul so thoroughly that she had to rest in the teacher’s lounge for almost two hours to clear the ringing in her ears. Luckily I did not break the other leg when she insisted on propelling the wheelchair to which I was confined with a casted left leg at top speed down the second floor hall to see if she could “break her record” in getting to the library before the bell rang. Luckily, a family emergency took her away from us before we could truly determine how lucky we really were.

Certainly I will never forget the social studies teacher who decided to wear her underwear as outerwear to see if her students were awake. Forever will I see the music teacher who insisted on wearing a “Phantom of the Opera” cape and carry a shepherd’s staff as she led the three choral groups to the front of the gym to perform. Imbedded for eternity in the synapses of my brain is the sight of the math teacher, dressed in leiderhosen for Ethnic Pride Day who told me in a serious whisper that he had $30,000 in math club dues in the trunk of his car and would need to stop at the hospital the next morning for “just a few minutes” of brain surgery. All of these people were hired after exhaustive interviewing, checking their references most thoroughly and following every tenet for finding solid, hardworking employees.

And so it is with great fondness and admiration that I think back to that Sister who told me that she basically hired the first person to walk through the door. I would bet that at least half of the time it turned out to be an excellent hire. Given the books I’ve read on the subject of hiring, the binders full of “How to...” which grace my bookshelves and the various seminars I have attended about hiring the right person for the job, I know better than to hire the first person who walks through the door. But there are moments when I think longingly that it is a technique I would love to try; in fact, I could collect data over a long period of time and see which methods produced the “best hires.” I suspect that Sister’s approach would work equally well as any high-tech, research-based method. One more thing, dear readers, and this I firmly believe. “You don’t know what you got until you got it.” I think Sister would agree with me.