At a Diocese meeting yesterday, the other principals were surprisingly helpful, trying to see what they can do to help me personally and professionally.
It was kind of creepy. I’m not used to colleagues caring. Then again, it was probably easy for them to see that it could happen to any of them, so they are genuinely concerned. If I became a wheel in the machine, I would expect to see fake caring, the kind of thing neurotypicals do because it’s expected.
This was genuine.
Beyond that, though, there may be a job open next year, through one of my colleagues who told his priest he was only doing the job for one year.
The holy spirit may be at work here, because this is also my priest’s home parish (his parents, who adore me, are parishioners) and they have Spanish-speakers, besides. We share a teacher who comes to do some religious education at my school who likes me a lot (and she has the ear of the priest besides). Also, they are not in danger of closing any time soon for they are closer to full and well-supported financially.
I’m not sure if anything comes of it, or if I want to be at the mercy of another priest’s whim, but this particular priest is older and more experienced, which comes with it both good points and bad points. It’s less likely that what happened to me with a sudden school closure would happen there, though.
On paper, I know I am valuable (I went over my CV; it’s a bit gappy in places, since, well, Autistic; but it’s got a solid combination of degrees, educational experiences, and professional “appearances” that I’m kind of a unicorn in the K-12 market), but I am still Autistic. I know this is a strength, but sometimes it’s just people getting past my oddities, to see it.
Having people trying to open doors for me, though…this is what I needed. I tend to get jobs this way, with someone pointing out how great I am first, and then we can go from there.
I’m told neurotypicals get jobs this way, too, through connections and networks, but it’s hard to get that narrative of working hard leading to success out of your head.
It’s amazing what stories we tell people about how to get ahead, which we don’t really mean.