The previous spring had ended on a bit of a rough note. I ended my brief career as a tour actor with a local children’s theater in order to return home and find some life direction. This meant a lot of coffee shop time spent staring at a computer and filling out resumes. In the four years I had held a teaching license, not one of them had been spent in a classroom. I figured it was about time to put my “higher learning” to use, so I began applying all over the state of Montana for an elementary position.
Several rejection letters later, I finally secured a phone interview with a school on the other side of the state. The secretary and I had exchanged a few emails and I was informed they would be making a conference call.
The phone rang at the appointed time. I nervously looked over my prepared questions and cleared my throat.
“Hello?”
Static.
“Um….hello?”
There was a loud scraping noise, more static, and then a voice asked, “Is it working?”
I suppressed a giggle. Another voice.
“Yep, I think it’s a-workin now. Just press that button to turn on the…oh, it’s already…Hello?”
“Yes, hello, is this June?”
“No, this is Chester. Actually, this is alluv us. We’re conference callin’, but the phone ain’t very good so you’ll have to speak up.”
A strange mixture of relief and anxiety fell on me. These people sounded as prepared as I was for the interview. What was I getting myself into?
The interview was brief, partially because they didn’t ask many questions, and partially because the pervasive layer of static made it nearly impossible to understand every other word. We were able to decide that I would drive the nine and a half hours across the state for a face-to-face meeting.
This native Montanan was astonished to find how large her homestate really was. I drove for nine solid hours and never left the state. Mountains faded into hills, hills faded into prairie and the prairie stretched on to meet still more prairie. I finally traded the pavement in for a gravel road and gingerly made my way through the surrounding ranch land. With every turn of the wheels I could hear gravel pelting away at the undercarriage of my poor Subaru, even at a slow 45mph. A pickup bore down on me from the other direction at a ridiculous rate of speed, barley allowing me time to move aside. “You’re insane, “ I muttered as I inched my car back on the road. “Seriously, who drives like that on gravel? And what is up with these sheep?” I turned a corner in the road only to find my path blocked by at least 30 wooly heads. By now I was a few miles in and was sure the school couldn’t be too far away. Edging my way around the sheep, I continued my trek to the middle of nowhere. Anxiety grew with every mile. I was sure I should have arrived by now. She said the white building next to the green trailer. Twenty miles in. Surely it’s been twenty miles by now. More gravel. More ranch houses. No school. Maybe I should turn around. I must have missed it, taken the wrong gravel road maybe? The car rose over a small swell in the road, and there it was; The little white schoolhouse in the middle of the prairie, complete with outhouse, swingset, and sagging green trailer. Still, no sinking feelings yet, so with a sigh of relief I swung in and parked in the schoolyard.
The school board was waiting inside. Eager to make a good impression, I smiled my brightest and quickly introduced myself hoping they couldn’t see my quivering insides as I sat at the small table in the center of the room. Chester and June were present, as well as Elaine and Trent. I presented my resume and portfolio and quickly understood that, while they appreciated that I brought my credentials, they didn’t really care about what I’d accomplished in previous jobs. They just wanted to know if I could handle teaching in such an isolated area. “It can get awful lonely out here,” volunteered Trent. “But this here’s a real good community, they’ll see to your needs and teach you how to make do.”
After a tour of the school (it took all of twenty seconds) we piled in our vehicles to check out the housing situation. It seems a local rancher and his wife had purchased a trailer for a hired hand two years previous, and the hired hand ended up leaving after six months. The trailer had been sitting empty since then, and the school board had asked to rent it for the incoming teacher. “That school’s been closed for two years, and the previous teacher smoked like a chimney, so the trailer next to the school isn’t fit to live in, “June volunteered. “This place would suit just fine,” she added as we traipsed into the trailer, “uh, just as soon as we get this all cleaned up.”
Dark mounds of mouse droppings littered the floor from one end of the room to the other. Well, Sam, can you live with this? I asked myself. Don’t look like the city dude, show them you can handle it. “Well, this can be taken care of, right?” Brave, Sam, be brave. Elaine, who was obviously the one in charge, answered. “Oh, definitely, no doubt about it, we can get a carpet cleaner in here and get it cleaned right up, no problem.” Hoping to distract from the evident neglect, she spent the next ten to fifteen minutes pointing out all of the good attributes of the trailer, the other members offering head nods and “yeses”, all the while gauging my reaction. Struggling to reveal nothing, I listened and smiled and weighed my options. By the time we went back out to our vehicles, I had decided.
“I’ll do it.”
Four incredulous faces stared back.
“You’ll do it?” Elaine asked.
“I think it will be a good opportunity for my first teaching assignment, and you seem like good people, and as long as that mouse poop gets cleaned up, yes, I’ll do it.” The words were barely out of my mouth and I had a pen in my hand and a contract laying on the hood of the car. Chester, June, and Elaine leaned in to watch while Trent busied himself with something next to the car. I guess he felt like if he watched too I might get claustrophobic and change my mind.
Four weeks later I made my way back down the gravel road, this time carrying my life’s possessions with me. The prairie lay before me, vast fields of green, yellow, and white. Sunflowers stood like sentinels along the side of the road, and meadowlarks sang gaily to one another from atop their fenceposts. The sky, like a giant vaulted ceiling, stretched its blue from one horizon to another where, in the distance, I could see the finger buttes jutting their gray heads up from the earth. Breathing in the fresh air I rejoiced in my good fortune. What a place full of life! I began my unpacking box by box and had the last bag of clothes in the house by the time the sun fell.
The carpets had been shampooed twice and all sign of mouse eradicated. As I fell into my little cot and stretched out to sleep, I thought of the day ahead. So much had to be done before school began in a week, and I hadn’t even seen the curriculum! An hour of fretting and planning passed before my eyelids closed, but they didn’t stay shut for long.
A skittering sounded above my bed. My eyes shot open. Skitter, skitter, skitter. Skitter, skitter, skitter. Thump, thump, thump. Either there was an elephant in the ceiling, or something was being thrown. I sat up. There it was again. Thump, thump, thump. The sound was coming from the bathroom. Careful to make as little sound as possible, I crept into the bathroom. Thump, thump, thump. The cupboard door was moving. My sleep-deprived brain struggled to wrap itself around my situation. I looked around for something to defend myself with. The toilet plunger was nearest at hand. Armed and prepared for anything, I flung the cupboard door open and jumped back. Nothing appeared, so I crept closer and peered into the blackness. The cupboard seemed to be empty. I listened again, but heard nothing.
By now I had half-convinced myself that I had dreampt the whole thing, so I returned to my cot. Mmmmm, sweet sleep. Now, where was I ? Oh, right, I need to organize the shelves, put the class rules, up, and – A loud thump broke into my reverie and this time I knew I had not dreampt it. I leapt to my feet, charged to the cupboard and yanked open the door. “Aggghhh, come out already!” I yelled in frustration. How was I supposed to get any sleep like this? I better just sit here, wait for him to show his sniveling little whiskers. I wasn’t so sure what I was dealing with, but whatever it was, it was ruining my sleep. I sat crosslegged on the floor, plunger in hand. The peanut butter I’d grabbed from the fridge sat in front of the open cupboard door. I didn’t have to wait long. A long, whiskered nose and two beady little black eyes poked their way out the door, followed quickly by a meaty, brown body and long, sleek tail. My impression of a lifeless statue could have won a few prizes in the local wax museum, I’m sure, but the rat wasn’t convinced. An eternity passed before he felt safe enough to eat the peanut butter and then – wham! The plunger-turned-bludgeon came out of nowhere and dazed the sleep thief, causing him to run straight for my foot and up my pants. “Agghhhh!!!” I yelled to no one in particular, shaking and beating my leg with the plunger, “get it off, get it off, get it off!” The rat apparently enjoyed my pants as much as I enjoyed him being there and chose to run out again, this time into my garbage can.
Plunger thrown aside, I pounced on the can and tied up the bag before he had a chance to escape. Flinging wide the screen door I tossed the entire can into the front yard. “And stay out!” I yelled. Turning back, I grabbed the door only to find – I locked myself out.
