Mentioning My Arrest at My Job Interview
Not a Recommended Possible Employment Tip, unless. . .
“Protest beyond the law is not a departure from democracy; it is absolutely essential to it.”
― Howard Zinn
“You’re only as good as your record.” — Jello Biafra, Dead Kennedys
In August of 1999, I abruptly quit playing amateur baseball (hardball, not softball), quit playing drums in any band, quit playing piano as a songwriter, quit eating fast food and perhaps most importantly, just quit playing around.
For good. Or at least until I start collecting Social Security and a union-secured pension.
Back then, as a substitute for two years in the rather unusually diverse community of Ferndale, Michigan, I had stumbled into a wide variety of “guest teacher” gigs, all subjects, all grades 2-12, from faking German sing-alongs with third graders using two famous alternative Beatles tracks, to actually conducting with baton a surprised middle school band expecting a study hall, to in-class tutoring at the alternative high school, which most subs fearfully avoided (despite slightly higher pay).
I sort of enjoyed answering the desperate-6:15 am-wake-up-phone-call-plea-to-work (usually on Fridays and Mondays) — when I felt like it.
Two to three days a week, with no requirements after 3:00, with summers off.
Also known at the 24-hour maximum workweek.
Note: Success stories are generally seen as determined; prolonged failures are usually viewed as delusional.
Her groggily gentle, “Hon, are you going to answer that today?” eventually evolved into a less yielding, “Answer that. You need the work.”
But—
Note: Success stories are generally seen as determined; prolonged failures are usually viewed as delusional.
So, at 38, after a few years of silently grieving the loss of my mother, after years of teacher certification procrastination, and after the (patiently) profound influence of two sequential long-term companions, a more acute self-awareness began to emerge. Both former partners had made it preciously clear how I needed to really develop both my emotional potential and my earnings potential.
My internal adolescent voice did not have to be eternal.
This long delayed self-awareness did necessitate replacing some calcified self-indulgence. With so many friends (and ex’s) my age or younger enjoying or embarking on rewarding careers, it was time, even if now acting alone.
Time for my Second Act.
Time to get hired for a full-time occupation — with health insurance.
(Hooray. You’ll need it.)
Time to venture out for a serious job interview.
As a percussion teacher, why not bring the drum to a demonstration against the world’s largest trash incinerator? (Detroit, circa 1990)
File Photo by Rebecca Cook
In the week before Labor Day, I applied on a Monday afternoon, then formally met Wednesday morning.
Generally, I enjoy personal interviews, whenever I’m (surprise) encouraged to ramble on About Me. Almost as much fun as auditioning for a play. It can resemble an early psychotherapy session, without having to pay for it. Three people conducted the examination, including the social studies Department Head and the Assistant Principal.
My resumé reflected considerable educator, coaching and somewhat related theater and paralegal experience. Most notably, I enthusiastically highlighted my five-month internship with the nationally known Birmingham Seaholm High School FLEX, their uniquely advanced, student-centered, school-within-a-school English and history intensive social studies program.1
All the questions felt like a lazy summer volley of badminton, drink in one hand.
“We noticed you are a Detroit resident?” (Decoded: “Would you be comfortable in front of classrooms comprised of over 90% African American students?”)
Yes, for almost 15 years now. It wouldn’t be more than a 15 minute drive to work.
“Do you have any interest in coaching or after-school sponsorships?” (Decoded: “We’re desperate for several sponsors, including baseball and drama club.”)
I heard you haven’t had a drama or baseball program in years. I’m eager and qualified to do both, say, drama in the fall and baseball in the spring, although they’d overlap. . . .
“Do you have any other experiences you wish to share regarding your qualifications?” (Decoded: “We’re getting a little sleepy but anything else relevant from your bizarre personal history?”)
Sure. The time I was arrested for disorderly conduct.
Three sets of eyebrows raised across the table from me.
Since I will likely be teaching about law enforcement, rights of the accused and some examples of civil disobedience in American history, there’s my participation and arrest with 18 other protesters known as the Evergreen 19 against the world’s largest trash incinerator. That event remains an invaluable teachable moment.2
Not only can I describe first-handed peaceful protest, I can relate the unpleasant actuality of getting arrested during a sit-in demonstration, the resulting arraignment, and then later being found not guilty in a criminal court case by a jury of my peers. I even took the opportunity to initially represent myself during the voir dire jury selection and give my own opening statement, before yielding to our defense attorney.
Thankfully, no conviction, well, besides my convictions against toxic waste burners.
Evergreen 19, Detroit, 1988. In the mud, then in jail, then in the news.
I decided to avoid mentioning a fairly similar non-violent 1991 Gulf War sit-in with about dozen Vietnam Vets, which ended with us whistling the famous “Bridge on the River Kwai Colonel Bogey March.” There’s only so much information an interviewer can handle.3
After a perplexed silence, the Department Head spoke up, “Interesting, because we do offer a prelaw elective, called ‘You and the Law.’”
I could start work today.
The dumbfounded looks were soon followed with handshakes and smiles.
24 hours later, I returned to sign an official contract, with a brief tour of the school, including the seldom used (at the time) Little Theater and then, my very own musty classroom, to immediately commence my full-time teaching career the Tuesday after the holiday.
One of my three courses was the prelaw class.
24 years later, it still is.
To be explored in-depth in future Substack column.
The thesis for my Masters of Arts in Teaching (Wayne State University) completed in August, 2005: “The Pedagogical Paradox of Teaching Civil Disobedience.”