Job Hunting - Not Just for Old Ladies

The closest to perfection a person ever comes is when he fills out a job application form.

Stanley J. Randall

All this talk of weddings and college visits and choices has bypassed another son in my house. One embarking on a new adventure. Remember Jordan? The boy who raises fawns?




And kills rattlesnakes?

Tucked in the middle of that wedding and high school graduation is the completion of a Bachelor's degree in biology -- trip to Arizona for my husband and me to see that boy grasp his diploma. And, of course, college graduations bring gainful employment where children elope from parent's payrolls. Permanently. Right. RIGHT!

In the file of resumes I've kept on my desktop for ready use this past year, Jordan's has the freshest face. Young, unattached, eager to take on the world -- everything he owns will fit in his car, opening up the many possibilities he's finding countrywide that offer his next adventure.

While completing 17 hours of study to adhere to the four year tuition schedule allotted by his parents (those dwindling funds now assigned to his younger brother) each day he searches the wildlife websites for open positions, adjusting his resume and cover letter to fit the job. A science guy, he has utilized his mother's typing fingers to tighten up the verbiage. Makes me feel useful and I'm glad he's asking. (I can fix other people's sentences much better than my own.)

Impatiently, he checks his email to await responses to his applications. Nothing yet. But the windows keep opening, he keeps applying, and he is ready to fly.

If I compare his possibilities to mine, the Midlife Jobhunter, I see a much broader skyline in his search. Youth backs his flight. Although his credentials may not contain as many skills or as much experience as mine, he is more employable simply because he is young, flexible, willing to relocate, and has the energy to work long hours and get his hands dirty.

Not to say midlifers can't do that, but a definite difference exists for those of us no longer trained in the newest technologies. Those that have too much baggage to pack up all our belongings in our Civic and head off down the road. Those that can physically no longer take on the tasks that younger years offered.

Makes for a most exciting time for this young son. One that will strike out on his own and has not completely figured out how exciting life will be.

Another one - that I once carried in my arms - all grown up.

What Lies Ahead

We've had bad luck with our kids - they've all grown up.

Christopher Morley

Once upon a time I spent my days with a gaggle of kids that followed me where ever I went. My world revolved around the three souls I pushed out of my womb and then made sure they had food placed in front of them, shoes that fit, and swimming holes to explore. My days sometimes seemed to never end. I ached for an hour or two where no one needed me for something. Just an hour. Or a minute. Like an opportunity to shut the bathroom door and pee alone.

Even though it didn't seem possible I'd ever escape the always present mountain of laundry, the sticky floors from juice spilled, or the driving schedule that began at 3pm and ended when the last game or guitar lesson ended hours later, I knew there would come a time. That time is now. My last son is a high school senior and next year, my calendar will not have hours of baseball games filling the slots and there will be no one's ass to chew about getting homework completed.


How in the world did this little boy become old enough to go off to college?

Youngest son, Ian, and I took a road trip last week. College visit. He had been accepted to a few schools. Some even with in-state tuition. But he had a dream, and never one to not encourage those, I arranged flight, a car, and time to visit an old friend who teaches at the university.

Ian and I walked around campus, taking in all the sites. Took a tour. Visited with our old friends who drove us for hours on end to see the surrounding area. Overwhelmed, Ian and I retreated to our hotel for siesta time, watching the Olympics or talking about what we'd seen. As Ian endured Ice Dancing, for his mother's sake, we read the local newspapers and just soaked up the entire environment - not talking about a decision.

On the last day, Ian went on ahead of me as he had a meeting scheduled with the head of his department. By the time I got my camera out, (my hands were shaking) he was almost out of my sight and in the building.

We've since had a discussion on which college he's chosen to attend. Come fall, the last of those that followed me around will be off on their own. How does that happen so quickly? My grieving has begun, although...

...I'm probably going to be working so much to help pay for his butt to attend, that I won't have time to miss him. Now, there's fodder for future posts - that midlife job hunting thing again.

Fall Has Arrived in Central Texas

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Albert CamusChinese Tallow Tree

The Bald Cypress tree

Chinese Tallow

The mix

Greetings to all. I took these pictures weekend before last. Wished I had better shots as the hillsides are still truly beautiful right now. Don't you love it? Telling, rather than showing.

Saturday brought the best day. Rain, cold, rain. All our plans to cut a tree and set up Christmas inside and out escaped our memory while Bob, Ian, and I lolled about in sweatpants, warms socks, and sweaters. We took naps, watched football. Went to our favorite Mexican restaurant dressed as is. Left all our chores for Sunday - in the rain again. More later on the annual tree cutting trek complete with Texas BBQ. Next post.

Much too much going on to talk about midlife jobhunting.

Busy week here. The Bunco Bitches are due at my house Tuesday night and my book club arrives for Thursday night. Somewhere, way back nine months ago, I figured knocking out both groups in one week had me thinking smart. When it's over, maybe I'll think that again. Maybe I'll just shoot myself.

Meanwhile, the last thing my house looks like at the moment is prepared for the onslaught of 28 women in the next couple days. So glad they're my friends. Not even gonna get to cleaning off that desk of mine in the kitchen. Or my paper pile on my counter. Perhaps I'll shut the door to my bedroom. Just satiate all these women and they won't care what the house looks like. Those Bunco Bitches get Green Chili Chicken Macaroni and Cheese for dinner. (Homemade.) Not sure yet about book club. I think I have a partner in that dinner cooking venture. My list is limes, oatmeal cookies and martini glasses. I always do as I'm told.

Excited about our book discussion on Thursday - Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk about Love. Enhanced by a new biography about Carver, just out.

The holidays are beginning to overwhelm and I'm determined to remain relaxed. My oldest son walked in the door today and said "Gee, Mom. You need some help?" He spied my multitasking array of projects all in mid stage of completeness. I smiled. I'm fully aware I'm in true organizational challenge when I can't offer up a concise list for helpers. But I know I'll get there. I also know I'll be pouring myself a glass of wine when the first guest shows up.

Sure hope I don't get called in to work tomorrow. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday. Or Friday.

From Somewhere On The Job Hunting Road

The most important thing to remember is this: To be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become.

W.E.B. Du Bois

While a teenager, the neighbors across the street hired me to babysit their four boys. Four hours of sheer hell preceded two hours spent getting them to stay in their beds. Pay? A measly 50¢ an hour.

In the next few years, I had other babysitting jobs. Never liked the work. Perhaps all the hours I spent taking care of my own brothers tainted me, but for whatever reason, babysitting was not my thing.

Move forward to today. Guess what I’m doing now? Babysitting. And in today’s dollars, probably for about the same amount of money. In the last few weeks I’ve been an English, World Geography, World History and French teacher. I’ve directed a band and supervised (combat) Handball. I’ve engaged my experience as a mom to use hand signals to get a child back into a seat or to stand in the middle of a crowd with my arms held slightly in the air, gathering attention without raising my voice.

Yup, I’m back in the saddle of substitute teaching. Back on easily, like riding a bike, only not anywhere near as much fun. Thirty years ago in Michigan I did the same thing only that state required an active teaching certificate. Way back then, I looked like I was ten. I rarely had trouble with discipline, however, I now have the ability to look at a trouble-making kid and deliver the “Don’t Mess With Me, Man. I’m the Mother of Three Boys” look.

I’d like to say that my pursuit of midlife job hunting has taken me to new heights. That things I’ve learned over the past 35 years since I graduated from high school have afforded me a plethora of qualifications for many different jobs. Perhaps it has, but so far I haven’t been able to channel that into an actual position.

Last spring, I sat in a virtual prison scoring high school exit level essays – 200 a day. The requirements for that job? A Bachelor’s degree and a pulse. Substitute teaching in my current state requires less than that. A high school degree and this year they’ve added a prerequisite of 60 hours of college. I seem to be going backwards.

The pay? Well, lets just say, I depend on my husband for food, clothing, and shelter.

But I've not done all my homework. Have I spent more than 60 minutes on my resume trying to add up all I’ve accomplished and participated in the past 22 years since my last full-time employment? Not completely.

Is there a reason for that? Yes.

I still have a child home this year that I feel deeply committed to finish raising. I have no desire to lose him in his senior year or miss out on participating in his life. Not as a hovering helicopter mom – he is most independent – but in the small part of his life that is left with me before he embarks on his own.

Now that my defense is established, I can pursue my true passion for a while longer - reading and writing. Gathering my abilities and methods to generate them into a paying position – next year. Meanwhile, I’m in the classroom, working a job where the teachers I sub for don’t seem to have much expectation from me (perhaps due to the meager requirements for the job). For me, I'm in another job I'm good at, but don't enjoy.

I understand the versatility required in this position – walking into a room and with a few moments notice keep 36 kids working and producing something worthwhile for the class length. I need to become more familiar with the teachers so they’ll know to give me something to teach as I do have something to offer more than babysitting. At least I hope so.

The Weekend Arrives

Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. No wonder you feel that lost sensation. You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.

Ogden Nash

Tis no better day than Friday, I say. Unless you're a substitute teacher in the final hour of the school day. One can breathe the anticipation building throughout the day. By eighth period? Kids antsy. Unruly. Me? Ready to fly away.

But one thing about subbing, I don't take papers or lesson plans home. (My pay reflects that also.) I walk out the door, free as a bird. Will especially do that this weekend. Time for the annual Bunco weekend of overindulgence and relaxation. My group of 14 women has been together for over 20 years. We all met at the park, new stay at home moms, 8am and pushing our kids in the swings as we struggled to get used to a world without a paycheck, annual reviews, and a certain schedule.

An eclectic bunch -- artists, teachers, an enigma, a physician, hygienist, nurse, pilot, accountant, computer guru, saleswoman, writer, dog trainer, curriculum leader, and unlimited other talents -- we have met the second Tuesday of the month since 1989. Haven't played bunco in over ten years, but meet for the food, comfort, and talk. Lots of changes in our lives since way back then - children born, graduated, married. Deaths, divorces, cancers, depressions, a return to the workforce -- all those things life brings have bound us further. Even though many of us only see or talk to one another once in that month, we are a relaxed group when in company. I am blessed to have these bunco bitches, which is how we refer to ourselves. (There is another group in our neighborhood called the Bunco Babes. We don't belong to that one.)

Since I'll be bringing my laptop to further this Nanowrimo pursuit to move my novel forward, I'm going to let them help me write a sex scene in my book. I can only imagine how twisted that will turn out. (I'm only about 15,000 words behind the 25,000 I should have by this point.)

For some great reading, head on over to 128 Sticks of Butter. See how that friend of mine has shed her pounds and looks fabulous. (I really don't like her.) Or check out Old, Who, Me? to find a lovely tribute to our veterans. To The Smitten Image for a tribute to Canadian service men and women. Perhaps to the thirdstorey window for a little poetry. Or to Wander to the Wayside for a story of adoption. Turquoise Diaries for a quick trip to Sri Lanka or visit the Lazy Writer at A Walk in My Shoes for a lesson on adding tension to your writing. (Not your life - your writing.)

While I'm touting the greatness of others, let me also promote the new book of a very dear friend, Sorayya Khan. We go way back to college days - actually her husband and I do (I met him a few years before they became an item.) Sorayya's new book, Five Queen's Road, has just arrived via the mail. I can't wait to read it. Her previous book, Noor, is a favorite of mine. Sorayya is a most lovely woman. You will enjoy her writing.

And now, to the weekend where I'll take a break from the thoughts of midlife jobhunting and reflect on the gratitude I hold for a world filled with the diverse gifts of others. The picture at the beginning of my post is, I'm sure, the last bloom of my hibiscus plant for the year, so I'm sharing.
May you all enjoy your weekend in the waning days of Autumn -- before the burgeoning schedule of the holidays overtakes us.