My first day at Darnell‑Cookman.

Getting a teaching job was far harder than I ever expected. Honestly, I don’t think I interviewed well — which is odd, because interviewing used to be one of my strengths. But principals tend to speak a kind of teacher code during interviews, referencing standards by number and using insider language I didn’t yet understand. My ignorance must have been glaring, because interview after interview ended the same way: polite smiles, no callback.

One principal even told me she thought I wasn’t sure I really wanted to teach. That came after she’d peppered me with questions about how I would teach this standard or that standard — all referenced by number in the state manual. We won’t go into what I think about that principal today.

By the summer of 2017, I was lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, lamenting another year without a classroom of my own, when my phone rang. It was Ms. Donham, a teacher at Darnell‑Cookman. I’d subbed for her often over the previous two years, and she knew how badly I wanted a full‑time teaching job.

There was an opening at Darnell, she told me, and she’d recommended me for it. The assistant principal, Ms. Talley, was expecting my résumé.

I emailed it immediately. Her reply came quickly: I’d be scheduled as the substitute in the classroom the following Monday — the first day of school. The interview would happen after students were dismissed.

I arrived early that Monday morning. I remember very little of the day itself — just the classroom: four bare walls, a whiteboard, about 25 desks, and a display screen. First period was planning, and I spent it with the woman who would become my mentor and dear friend, Linda Fralick.

She walked me through the day’s lesson for our seventh graders, but she could sense my unease. I told her about my disastrous interviews elsewhere. She listened calmly and said, “Write down the questions you think you got wrong. We’ll go over them one by one.”

And we did.

Linda Fralick was one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known. I am convinced God sent her to me — not just for that day, but for the first two years of my teaching career.

The day with students passed in a blur. I’d subbed in roughly 50 schools by then, so being with kids wasn’t the concern. But when the bell rang at the end of the day, my anxiety spiked. Here came the interview.

I sat at one side of the conference table. Ms. Talley was several feet to my right. Across from me sat Ms. Fralick, next to the English department chair, Ms. Rowan. The principal, Dr. Lyles, sat at the head of the table to my left.

Ms. Fralick asked the first question. She smiled broadly.

“First of all, how was your day?”

My face probably lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew this answer. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it involved how good the day had been and how wonderful the students were.

Then she asked another question — one we had practiced earlier.

Again, I answered confidently.

Ms. Rowan followed. Then Ms. Talley. Every question landed squarely in my wheelhouse. For the first time in a teaching interview, I wasn’t scrambling. I was on a roll.

Dr. Lyles went last. He asked if Darnell‑Cookman was a place I could see myself staying long‑term.

I told him it was the school I wanted most to teach at — and yes, I would love the opportunity to stay there for a long time.

The interview ended. Handshakes, thank‑yous, polite smiles.

I returned to the classroom, took a deep breath, gathered my things, and headed toward the parking lot.

Before I reached my car, my phone rang.

Another deep breath.

It was Ms. Talley.

“Mr. DeBolt, we’ve talked a bit and come to a decision. We were going to tell you tomorrow, but Ms. Fralick wouldn’t let us wait. Do you want to know now?”

“Yes,” I said — probably with a quaver in my voice.

Then, from somewhere in the background, I heard Ms. Fralick shout, “You got the job!”

“We’ll see you in the morning, Mr. DeBolt,” Ms. Talley said.

I don’t remember what I replied, but I’m sure it was something polite and grateful.

I got to my car, set my things down, and called my wife, Daryl. I could hear the anticipation in her voice.

“How did it go?”

Through tears — much like the ones I’m wiping away as I write this — I said, “We did it. I got the job.”

It remains one of the most memorable moments of my life.

This is my ninth year as a full‑time teacher — all of them at Darnell‑Cookman. It’s been a roller‑coaster ride at times, but I still love it. I still love the students. They’re why I’m here.

Just yesterday, a former student stopped by my classroom to say hello. He’d been a challenging one, and I wasn’t always sure I was getting through. But seeing him standing in my doorway, telling me he missed my class, reminded me that I was making a difference.

When he graduated, I gave him my business card and told him to reach out if he ever needed anything. He told me yesterday that he still has it.

That meant more than he probably realized.

I have a few students like him this year. They remind me that I need to stick with them — because it’s worth it.

It all started that day back in 2017.

God led me to Darnell‑Cookman, and I hope I get the chance to spend my entire career in that old building. I’ve had many divine appointments there — and I look forward to all the ones still to come.

Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.