Anatomy of a Setback

Sometimes they feel sort of heavy, sometimes kind of prickly.  Sometimes they feel like rain, and sometimes they feel like a punch in the stomach.  They're a pay cut when you're saving, an injury when you're training, and a rejection letter when you're counting on an acceptance one.  I experienced one of the latter variety this morning.  Latter?  Latterest?  Most latt?  Whatever the case, I got rejected this morning.  It hit me square between the eyes and I didn't even see it coming.  Nope, I didn't ask a brawny dreadlocked surfer out on a date (because that would be weird). 

The email was from a school I had applied and interviewed to be a teacher at.  It was a stellar school with glowing recommendations from parents and a sparkling building full of fun elementary décor.  Having interviewed twice and emailed a handful of times, and even having recommendations from parents at the school, I thought I had a chance.  Being my optimistic, gung ho self (and wearing my power suit with a pink scarf to the interview) I figured "Why wouldn't they hire me".  Well, they told me why.  I didn't have any experience. 

In the spirit of the title of this entry, I will take you through the anatomy of my setback. 

Phase 1: That Sinking Feeling

It's a disappointment/shock/sad cocktail, but instead of drinking it, it gets dumped on your head.  It makes your shoulders slump a bit, and maybe even causes your feet to drag.  You've.  Been.  Rejected.  The length of time it lasts hinges on past experience, temperament, and nature of the situation.

Phase 2: Defensive Coordinator

After you pick your slouching frame up off the floor, you start swinging.  No experience?  Really?  I've worked with almost every kind of kid inside and outside the classroom and you say I have no experience?  And anyway, how the heck am I supposed to get experience if no one will hire me without experience?!  This blind rampage ends as soon as you realize it isn't doing you any good.

Phase 3:  The Whatever

When you stop swinging, you start shrugging and hmph-ing.  Who needs them anyway?  I didn't really want that job to begin with.  Whatever.  I have bigger fish to fry.  This phase ends as soon as you realize you're being silly and still not doing you any good.

Phase 4: The Dawn of Reason

As distance accumulates between you and the moment of disappointment, reason begins to light the landscape.  I realized this setback was quite minor in the broad scope of things.  There are parents who have to support families and have gotten stacks of rejection letters.  I don't even have a dog to support.  I'm a recent college grad living in a tough economy.  Did I really expect to get the first job I applied for?  Get real.  This phase doesn't necessarily end, and may accompany the next phase.

Phase 5: The Rebound

Hopefully, this rollercoaster you've been riding since you read that email serves as a catalyst for future action.  One rejection and giving up?  Pfft.  I thought I was made of stiffer stuff.  Turns out I was.  I applied for four new jobs.  That might not be enough.  I might need to apply for 60 before I get an acceptance back.  I'm sensing a character building moment...

Whatever your setback, if you killed your geraniums (again), or pulled a muscle at the beginning of the season or even lost another loan to Ditech, it's ok.  Be sad, be mad, be indifferent, just make sure you get to the part where you get back up and keep going.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine