“After Careful Consideration …”
Trying to Get Hired as a Black Latin Teacher
When it became clear to me, due to job insecurity and deep philosophical differences, that I needed to find a new Latin teaching job, I had all of the confidence in the world. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hire me? I had just been awarded Massachusetts’ Latin teacher of the year award, I had seven years of experience in one of the most prestigious school districts in the country, and I was guaranteed to be the only African-American applying for those jobs. I’m basically a unicorn!
Virtually every single school district I looked into listed hiring more teachers of color as a major priority. One department chair had even written an article lamenting the lack of diversity in teaching staff and among students in upper level Latin classes. I could honestly say that I was looking forward to getting out there and weighing my options. Little did I know that selecting a worthy suitor would be the least of my concerns.
District #1
I strolled confidently into the office of the aforementioned department chair for my first interview in years. The school was a large suburban high school outside of Boston. I scanned the room and was not at all surprised to see only white faces. I drew attention to my experience, my recent awards and my commitment to diversity and inclusion. The interview seemed friendly and fun, and the interviewers were upbeat and affable. I left the interview feeling good.
Weeks rolled by, and I heard no word. I was confused but still optimistic. I mean, how could I have turned off a department that seemed so committed to increasing diversity in their school?
Finally, I received an email stating that I was not being moved forward in the process. Not only did I not get the job, but I wasn’t even a finalist. I wasn’t even close. Little did I know, district #1 still had a role to play in my twisted drama.
District #2
As I waited to hear back from the handful of schools to which I applied, I received an invitation for another interview. This time from a middle school — my specialty — in another affluent suburban district. This one had to go well.
I was brought into a bright little office. I sat down across from a principal and a department head, both white. I proceeded to gleefully answer their questions. The vibe was a little weird, but I didn’t think too much of it. The principal came across as bored and like he was just going through the motions. At no point did he seem remotely interested in me as a candidate.
It seemed as though they must have decided on someone before I had even shown up, so I wasn’t all that shocked when I received a rejection email from district #2. As the weeks rolled by, I began to receive more rejection emails from districts that had declined to even bring me in for an interview. I resigned myself to return to my former district and try again next year.
District #3
Fast forward a year. This time I wasn’t desperately trying to find a job right at the end of the summer. I was a little rattled by the previous year, but I was refreshed and ready to start over again.
Enter district #3. The perfect job in the perfect district. The kind of job that only appears once in a lifetime. I had to have it. Another wonderful suburban district in Eastern Massachusetts that seemed too good to be true. I applied and was called in for an interview.
I entered the room and was met by a large group of extremely warm and inviting educators. All of the faces were white, but all of them were smiling. Each question perfectly mirrored my values as an educator, and I felt almost moved to tears by their focus on meeting the needs of all types of students. I left that interview floating on a cloud of optimism. I just had to be a finalist for this one.
Weeks rolled by. Now I was really confused. There was just no possible way that I wasn’t a finalist for this job. I had given the best of myself to that interview. I waited and waited until it finally came. Another lovely automated rejection email.
Now I was really starting to get nervous, but I hadn’t reached total desperation yet, because an even better opportunity had fallen into my lap. District #4 was to be my savior.
District #4
I walked into the interview room of yet another affluent suburban high school. Unlike at the other schools, the person leading the interview was a person of color! I instantly felt comfortable and at ease. Once again, I left the interview feeling great. But then again, I felt the same when I left my other interviews.
Not much time passed before I was invited back in to teach sample lesson. I had a lovely interview with the principal, who informed me that I would be hearing from them soon. Everything seemed to be going well.
Weeks roll by. Finally, I hear that I’ve been invited in for another interview with the principal. I suddenly have a very bad feeling. Why was I being asked in for a whole new interview with the same principal? This just didn’t add up.
I returned to the principal’s office. I was shocked to see a large table with lots of unfamiliar faces. This wasn’t just an interview with the principal, it was with a whole new committee! The room was full of skeptical white faces except for the person of color who had led my first interview. He sat near me, but was no longer in control of the process. The principal led the conversation, and the tone was totally different.
The questions all had an air of skepticism, like an interrogation. I got the distinct impression that they were searching for a justification not to hire me. I looked often to the one non-white face in the room for reassurance, but his expression felt like a silent apology. I left the interview feeling utterly defeated.
More weeks pass by. Suddenly, I receive word that they are going to check my references! I jumped for joy: no one ever checks your references until they have decided to hire you, right? Until I find out that they’re also checking the references of another finalist.
Not only was the administrator of color checking my references, but the white principal was also contacting the exact same references. It became clear to me at this point that there were two separate processes going on. Why was this happening?
Another few weeks pass, and finally I receive the email I had been waiting for all of this time. I excitedly opened it and felt my heart crash as I read the same automated rejection note I had received so many times before.
After three long months of waiting to hear my fate from district #4, I was out of options. I was devolving rapidly and could feel a full-blown panic attack coming on, when I remembered that I was moments away from an appointment.
The Return of District #1
Ironically, the teacher who was hired by district #1, not a person of color, had used my article Why Students Of Color Don’t Study Latin in her classes and had invited me to Skype in as a guest speaker. I managed to hold myself together in front of the kids, but I was not in a good place.
I couldn’t escape the cruel irony of the situation in my head. Here I was, the subject of study in a classroom that had previously deemed me unworthy of leading it. The students asked me questions about what it was like to be a classicist of color. I held back tears, answered their questions honestly, and, for the first time, considered quitting teaching altogether.
District #5
At this point, I won’t lie, I was desperate. I started to apply to part-time jobs, hoping that I could break through that way. I interviewed at yet another suburban high school in Eastern Massachusetts. I was in a room with two people, a principal and a department chair, both white. I was asked several questions about diversity and inclusive practices. I felt uniquely qualified to answer their questions.
A few weeks pass and suddenly, like clockwork, I get the same automated rejection email in my inbox. I couldn’t even land a part time job. At this point I had been rejected for every Latin teacher job in the state of Massachusetts, a state in which I had just been named Latin teacher of the year.
The Aftermath
I felt like a total failure. I was going to have to sell my home and move my kids away from their school and friends. This also meant that my wife would have to leave a fantastic job because I needed us to relocate to find work. At this point, I had actually resolved to leave the teaching profession altogether. I went so far as to cancel workshops and seriously explore a midlife career change.
After some words of encouragement from friends and family, I decided to give teaching one more chance. Once I started looking outside of Massachusetts, I was shocked by the results. I started receiving offers from all over the country. Miraculously, the things I had to offer seemed appealing to all of these other people. Finally, I was able to land the last job posted in Massachusetts in a small town in the western part of the state.
Despite that last minute success, I still needed to upend my family and relocate because of my inability to find a job anywhere near me. What happened? Why was I treated so differently by schools outside of my region? Why did I struggle so mightily in a place where I had previously experienced so much success?
Observations
Almost zero diversity in hiring committees. I noticed exactly one person of color. One. One person of color in all of the interviews I attended. Let that sink in. The one person of color I did encounter appeared to be actively undermined throughout the process. I am aware that the field of Classics is extremely white, but that’s no excuse for having all-white hiring committees for Classics jobs.
Empty platitudes without action. I received zero job offers from places that went out of their way to tout their commitment to diversity. No school that asked me specific questions about diversity and inclusivity offered me a job or even chose me as a finalist.
Latin teachers are part of the problem. Most hiring committees included current or retiring Latin teachers and those teachers were always white. I received zero offers, including out-of-state, at any school that already had a Latin teacher. If Latin teachers have a say in the matter, it is their duty to push for more inclusive hiring practices.
Conclusion
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t still feel frustrated by my experience. I felt hurt, shocked, rejected and all of the normal emotions that one feels in that situation. I ran through the various interviews in my head a thousand times and couldn’t figure out what had totally disqualified me.
Unfortunately, I can’t exactly reach out to the people who didn’t hire me and ask, “Hey. Did you not hire me because I’m black?” Even if the answer was “yes”, I highly doubt that I would get that as a response. So I’m just left wondering why I was such an unattractive candidate in my home state, but nowhere else.
The field of Classics has a race problem. I am one of the few African-Americans in the field of Classics, and I had all but quit because I couldn’t get hired. If an African-American with my experience, awards and credentials has this much difficulty landing a teaching job, what does that say about the state of our profession? We are not teaching, recruiting, or hiring people of color. We have been collectively talking ourselves into maintaining the status quo, and have been making excuses for keeping the field white. Given the current state of affairs, why would a young person of color interested in Classics even want to enter a field that is so hostile to diversity? This has to change and change now, or else Classics as a discipline will continue to die its slow death on the hill of white exclusivity.
John Bracey is a high school Latin teacher, who spends his days fighting the good fight and trying to make Latin classes more inclusive to everyone. He has a website, magisterbracey.com, where he blogs about teaching Latin with Comprehensible Input.
