It’s been almost a year since I moved to Boston from Philadelphia and I’ve found the job market for art teachers slim to nil. My search last year began in Philadelphia by blanketing the area with 180 resume packets. From the 180 packets, I had two interviews. I was offered a job from the second interview, but was urged to turn it down by family who thought I would be better paid in another position. While I may kick myself now about the decision, I realize that the journey I’ve been on has made me a better teacher.
After moving, I held three successive jobs; one as a substitute teacher, one as a special education paraprofessional, and I am currently an art camp counselor. Each of these jobs, while teaching me a completely new angle on education, has only reaffirmed my desire to have an art classroom of my own again. Perhaps I was foolish, or stubborn to accept positions only in education, the jury is still out. Luckily, as a semi-recent college graduate, I still feel comfortable living an extremely frugal life.
Yet, as the time for my current job search dwindles with the daylight hours, I find myself asking some familiar questions: How does one get her foot in the door when she doesn’t know a soul in her field nearby? Will I ever have that wonderful feeling of community in a school again?
