Job Loss and an Uncertain Future

I originally wrote this story yesterday, a day after the event it concerns happened, but it wasn’t until today that I got around to getting it typed up to post to my blog. So, the events described here happened two days ago (on Wednesday) and detail how I was feeling yesterday, at the time I put pen to paper. Although delayed in publishing it to my blog, I still feel it is worthwhile to share. So here goes…

Yesterday (Thursday) I experienced an emotional breakdown at a level I hadn’t in several years. I thought I was beyond breakdowns and panic attacks of this magnitude, but experiences like yesterday (Thursday) serve as a reminder of the thin ice I often find myself skating on; it seems troubles are often so near the surface, ready to burst forth.

The majority of the time I’m a strong woman, or at least I like to tell myself that I am, and I am able to project this façade to the public. Inside I’m typically full of turmoil and have to repeatedly tell myself, “You got this. You can do this. You’re strong. Everything is going to be okay.” This is my constant mantra. Most of the time I am able to convince myself and others that this is the case.

For the past five years I’ve worked several part-time jobs simultaneously just to make ends meet, never moving ahead, never creating a safety net, least of all a nest egg. One of these positions was as a teaching assistant for an online university where I corrected and provided feedback on students’ English papers. The convenience of this position laid in the fact that I could do it in the evenings after my regular day jobs, which currently includes substitute teaching and working at the library, and which in the past included teaching computer technology courses and working as a veterinary receptionist/practice manager. The online position only required about 8 to 10 hours of work per week and paid $1,000/month. This accounts now, especially during the summer months when there is no substitute teaching, for at least 50% of my income.

The other day, in one blanket email, this position, which I had relied on like a crutch, was snatched from me. I worked for this university with loyalty and utter reliability for the past five years, always completing a course no matter what other challenges may have arisen in my life. I gave my students my best even when they frustrated me or were unfairly demanding, rude, and/or condescending. This position was taken from me with less than one month’s notice and at one of the worst times possible.

Had I followed the principles set forth in Who Moved My Cheese? by Spencer Johnson, I would have anticipated the change and been proactive, looking for something else sooner rather than later. The signs were written all over the wall; however, I chose to turn a blind eye, praying, “Just awhile longer, just awhile longer.” I was selfishly hoping the university would continue to limp along until I finished my degree in December and could hopefully land a full-time librarian position. But they beat me to it. Who else, honestly, do I have to blame but myself?

Over the past year the university has struggled. It applied to renew its accreditation and was denied. Student enrollment subsequently declined. The university maintained that it was doing what it needed to in order to get approved for accreditation and stood behind its educational quality, attempting to ease any concerns faculty, staff, and students may have. However, without being transparent, completely honest, and openly communicative, the university quietly started to assign teaching assistants to fewer courses due to lower student enrollment. I noticed a trend beginning in the fall that I was not being assigned as regularly and consistently to a course each time I was eligible to take on a new one. But the university never, ever said anything about it. I was the one to broach the subject, asking why I was not being assigned a new course every five weeks as I had been previously; the answer I received was that they had changed the policy and teaching assistants were now being assigned every six weeks (with a clear delineation of five weeks required in between each course). Previously sometimes I would be assigned to more than one course at a time or I would begin a course a week early because they needed the extra help. This was no longer the case. With this new policy in place, which was never shared with the teaching assistant staff, I became uneasy. This was a bad sign. But, like I said, I figured my position would stick around, albeit with less consistency; I didn’t think it would be eliminated. Not for a while anyway.

That was until yesterday (Thursday) around 2:00pm. I arrived at Thatcher’s, per my usual custom, after work or on days I don’t work, to finish an assignment for school. I ordered a cold brew and a whole-wheat walnut scone. I sat down next to the large, opened industrial garage door, enjoying a sweet early summer breeze on my arms. I turned on my laptop, and began my school work. Soon, however, I decided to check my work email (“Squirrel!” This is my brain these days). I opened an email with the subject of “Class Size Reduction” from the university’s human resources department and began to scan it. The first paragraph stated, “As part of ______ University’s ongoing commitment to student success, course size reductions will take place in several general education courses. Beginning July 2, 2013, the number of students enrolled in ENG 121 and ENG 122 will be capped at 25 students. Student enrollment will also be reduced in EXP 105, PSY 202, ENG 125, COM 200 and PHI 103 capped at 30 students. The University has determined that smaller class size helps retention and student learning by creating a more enriched and personalized student experience.” My first thought was, “Okay, big deal. I can read between the lines and I know that this is all about reduced student enrollment; it’s not really about the university believing that the lower class size numbers will help improve its educational services.” I was then about to close the email without reading any further when I happened to glance a little further down into the email and read this: “With continued course size reductions, the University has decided to transition all written assignment grading over to faculty. Written assignment grading in these courses will be the responsibility of faculty with courses starting on July 2, 2013 and after. Teaching assistants will remain active through the conclusion of all current courses through the June 25th start. While this decision was a difficult one, the reorganization of classroom responsibilities does mean that the Teaching Assistant position will be eliminated.” My first reaction was of pure shock and disbelief, quickly to be replaced with panic. I started to cry (as silently as possible), large tears falling down my cheeks and splashing onto the table. I took off my glasses, laid them on the table, covered my eyes, and continued to cry, my shoulders shuddering and my back shaking. I couldn’t believe this was happening, and in the middle of a public place! I immediately determined right then and there to cancel the trip to Hawaii I had planned for the first week in July, and I quickly found myself going into damage control mode. I was terribly, terribly upset and disappointed that I could no longer go on the trip. I had looked forward to it for several months now, and I hadn’t had a proper vacation in over five years. I had just been through a divorce and I had been working my butt off working several jobs and attending school full-time, so clearly I had earned a vacation? I guess not. At the same time, however, I was glad to receive the bad news now rather than after going to Hawaii and spending the money I would now need to make it, to somehow make it, through the next several months. As soon as I was able to pull myself together enough, I packed up my computer, threw away my half-eaten scone, and headed home. I cried all the way there.

When I got home I stripped off my clothes and crawled directly into bed. I cried myself to sleep. I woke up an hour later feeling disoriented. I threw on an old t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans shorts and wandered aimlessly outside. I walked around the yard, looking at the flowers and plants without really seeing them, and eventually found myself on the front porch. I sat down and the tears started to flow once more. My mom came outside to offer me a handkerchief and some comfort. It helped a little bit (at least I stopped sobbing), but I was mostly inconsolable. I headed back inside where the waterworks turned back on. I stepped into the bathroom to get some tissue and ended up feeling like I was going to throw up. I sat down next to the toilet where I commenced to hyperventilate and go into panic attack mode. I don’t know how long I was there, but I eventually managed to regulate my breathing and calm down. Once more I stripped off my clothes and crawled back into bed.

I’m not sure how I managed it, but about an hour later I plucked myself up, found a little courage, and decided to tackle my schoolwork. And I don’t know how I did it, but I completed my final assignment of the quarter. Was it my best work? Not even close, but it was enough and it was what I could manage. At 11:00pm I decided I should finally eat something, as all I had had was part of a scone earlier in the day. I drove myself to Taco Bell, and brought the food home to eat. I attempted to eat at the kitchen table; I had to close the door so the bugs wouldn’t get in (there is no screen) and then turned on the light. My mom entered the kitchen and complained that it was 73 degrees in the house, could we open the door? I stated that I had the light on. “Do you need the light on?” I was asked. I gathered myself and went downstairs. I don’t know why I did what I did next. It’s inexplicable. But I shut myself in my walk-in closet and finished my meal there, sitting on the floor. I then lay down flat on my back and stared blankly at the ceiling. I was thinking, “I should take a shower.” But all I could muster after a while was to get up and go straight to bed.

This morning (Friday) I felt a little better. Better is better than worse, so I’ll take it. What am I going to do? I’m just going to keep at it. What is the alternative? As long as there are people in the world who love me, I’ll keep going. The day there is none is the day that I am done.

So for now I’ll finish out the school year subbing. I’ll finish my last course with the university. I’ll continue to work at the library. I’ll look for full-time librarian positions for when I graduate in December. I’ll look for supplemental part-time work and write. I have some children’s books in the works that I want to get out to literary agents and publishers this summer. And I’ll continue to pinch my pennies. It’ll be difficult, but what doesn’t kill me will eventually make me stronger, even if in the meantime I feel like it’s just breaking me.

Come fall I will continue to work at the library and complete my 10-week school-based library internship Wednesday-Thursday/Friday. I will need an evening part-time job, whatever that would be, for those days.

Come December hopefully things will be on the up and up. I want to move. Perhaps I’ll find an awesome library job in Colorado, Alaska, or Montana. It’s time for a new place and new horizons for me. Hopefully I will find what truly makes me happy, inside and out.

And so I end this post with the day’s ear-worm that is helping me to push through:

“Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride. Nobody’s gonna slow me down…I’ve got to keep on moving.” –Break My Stride by Matthew Wilder