When the day finally came for graduation, Mata seemed distant; her mind was on the future. Just like today, she didn’t seem to know what to do after getting a college degree. This is what she wrote about her graduation day, June 17, 1914:
“Graduation Day. So wonderful a day. At 8:15 our pictures were taken. Then with Gyneth as a partner we marched as a class up + down hill over to Gym. We, our group halted in front of Gym. We, our group, halted in front of the Dr.’s office, for the last time. I did not like it. There was Dr. Crans but not mine. After the long exercises were about over a wagon load of diplomas were carted in and then we knew there was another wait. The whole morning events will always remain unforgotten for they were implanted in my brain cells. The B.A. degree was mine. Handed to me by Pres. V. Hise it was conferred to me—for the sheepskin symbolizes that. Wed. P.M. we go to the Bach’s Orchestral concert + then over to Pres. Van Hise’s reception. Gertrude Walker + her mother were with us. (Mother came Tues night + Pickford’s called for her in their auto.)”
The next day (June 18), she was still in a bit of a fog, writing only: “All is over. What ever is of sentimental nature sticks in my memory and I’d rather leave it there. if it put it in ink it will be all strange + unreal.”
Shortly afterward, she returned home to Two Rivers, sitting in limbo as she figured out what to do. Other than do something radical, all she could do was apply to the same kinds of teaching jobs all around the country as she had before. She had already sent some letters out, but before she really buckled down, she, Leatha (her sister), and their mother took a trip to Europe. This part in the diary is completely blank, and there is no written account of the trip, but there are some photos that survive. This was an interesting time to go to Europe: they set sail on June 25 and stayed for about a month. World War One officially began on July 28. It seems that they went to Western Europe, which would have been a little bit far away from the initial events in the Balkans. And with German roots and German pride, it’s pretty likely they made a visit there just in the nick of time.
looked when she had to think about her future after graduation.
Immediately upon her return to Two Rivers, Mata had to get back to finding a job. Sometimes, she was bored, writing only one- or two-line entries. Other times, she despaired and poured her heart out. And yet other times, she was bitter, angry, and jealous. Here are some excerpts from her diary that show all of these emotions over the course of 6 months:
July 27: “A notification from Tressler of a position in Hibbing Minn. ‘way up north.’ Is it my fate to come up North again[?] Let us hope so, but only therein lies my salvation now. it sounds all good. Let us hope again. I wish he would take me.”
Aug. 1: “…My mind is on troubled waters. Now I see nothing before me. One after another the good jobs drop away from me—roll away just for others who have cost their lot in that die and win. I lose—he or she someone else wins. This again is fate. Teaching positions are a lottery…”
Sept. 2: “No mail yet. Where oh where is my ‘job.’ In wanting an 800 job I get nothing. All or nothing, like Peer Gynt.”
Sept. 3: “…No mail for me yet. When will Tressler or his ‘new man’ write? Just think Rose P. goes to Grand Rapids Minn. to teach….”
Sept. 9: “Mail comes. A letter from Let. She leaves tonight for Portland, Ore. and I am here yet. It was not to be. But who knows…”
Sept. 17: “…No mail and no school yet and let us not hope for one either. I sure am the—- —– that ever missed a good job when I did not apply for Chicago position—oh—woe—but alas that too is past forever….”
Sept. 25: “College opens again—My hopes and ambitions have meet [met] with a Napoleonic defeat. Was that Wis. career to be my Waterloo—This space shall leave for the answer that some day will come. Will it be for the better or worse. Which only as I and time contend will an ultimate decision come!… Nothing to solve the problem. Wait. Many have waited in idleness and naught has come of it. Again that mail box was void of what means something to me, a letter from Let + a business letter both yet to come. I am one of the vast army of unemployed now. Without occupation is ruination culminating in desperation. On this day Sept. 26, 1914. I shall create a new sphere embodied in purity, and happiness. Only 2 other time[s] has such a pact been made only to become void but I do not want a life of sacrificity [sic.] with no satisfaction of accomplishment. Sealed + sworn by me under oath—Sept. 26—14.”
Sept. 29: “…How monotonous life becomes at home. There is nothing at all to enter into the solid crustation [sic.] of one’s home when like our established routine. It is every day the same. My future prospects lie, practically speaking, buried. There seems nothing in the way of an income. Now a commercial agency at Chicago even refuses to hear my plea. That too, even money in it, retreats from intentions to supply me a place. And Letta, while I cannot fathom her, reasons for not writing, I must content myself with a long, long monotonous wait.
Oct. 1: “Nothing usual except—oh! yes! A letter from the agency at Chicago. A position—say that word looks unreal to me. It is one at Rochester Minn., the town of sentiment and science. A come down in salary howe’r, 75—to 60. Pretty cool. Even if nothing happens it at least is an encouragement to me and the family.”
Oct. 2: “Applied at Rochester. I wrote a “new form” app. letter. It may be so new that it’ll be consigned to the waist basket—revised spelling. After hours, yea, weeks of suspense Let wrote. It is a thousand times more capable of creating suspense than ought else in my existence. Will I hear or not. Of course not—I’ll say—you’ll never be disappointed then—No never!!!! At least a delightful one from Let.”
Oct. 7: “Now I wrote to Iowa—but that seems unreal—so much so that I simply do not visualize the place etc. another Badger board letter—howling smitherens [sic.]. Goodnight’s additional note—But honestly I can’t do my part I am penniless now—it’s a shame to say it. Oh! the storms in my brain when I hear no answer to my communications—the time actually goes without sympathy. To me now, every minute counts.”
Oct. 10: “No mail for me yet. In desperate haste I wrote to Milwaukee to Supt. Pacter[?]—oh the bravery when 80 miles is safe wall between us—the letter must worm its way to him. Disregarded—it finally finds itself in an unparted willow reed basket.”
Oct. 13: “A thirteenth + a Tues.—usually Tues. is lucky—Is it? Well now I can answer this question—no I cannot. I received a letter from Milwaukee from the sup’t of schools who sends a blank and some reading matter. A complicated process at first sight. Mil. schools are not to be gotten in a random. Much depends on one’s election to a position there. Yes. Normal Grad. Varsity grad and all require to begin at the very bottom of the rung to serve indefinitely, then be either cast out or chosen. A letter from Lydia Loos tells me that she is canvassing. I’m not alone in my calamity. Oh isn’t it hard to be one of the many. We can philanthropic work among the thousands, pity them while reading about them, seated in our comfortable homes—but to be one of them—that is beyond human comprehension. A teacher without a position—that I could not conceive off [sic.]—but here I am in the rut—yet I have a home—that poor Lydia has none. I finished the Count of Monte Cristo today. The “counts” watchword is wait and hope. That may be applicable but it seems to me that in our society one must open up channels by pressing the springs of activity and in so doing enroute[?] the substances, which when called into being present their opportunity. It is opportunity won by personality that seems to count for some. To wait and hope, that alone is not applicable toward modern society.”
Oct. 14: “No word from the agency. They keep me in greater suspense than the university. Now they have pocketed my $2.00 and hauled me some as a bait and that is the ultimatum. Nothing done all day. Were I the least ambitious I would have many things to do. Now here I am without a position a parasite, in a good home, that is all. But that eternal waiting—waiting. Will it ever culminate. One must have something to aim at something + look upon—be it only an acknowledgment—then you are worded.”
Oct. 19: “…No notification—oh woe—how bitter—why is it? And Let, she my dearest friends practices utter neglect. Oh! those wait days this fall. I guess I’ll dubbed [sic.] this life period of mine—Expectation and Disappointment.”
Oct. 22: “The Parker Agency wrote me this A.M.—now they pleadingly want to know if I have a position. I wish they would keep still—about that seems to me they made little enuf effort to know I didn’t get one thru that source. Oh! keep cool is another slogan I must adopt.”
Oct. 26: “Today I applied for assistant in home and school gardening in Int. Dept. at Wash. Therein this little hope for many wise heads will apply for same position. It will be competitive. I must do as Emerson says ‘Trust thyself.[‘]”
Oct. 29: “…I am trying out my own thoughts on others. I’ll wait and hope on and on!!!!!!! My new plan, feasible yes, teach until Christmas 1915 + then resign + go for ½ year to S[yracuse] U[University] oh yes!! That’s where I’ll meet some college man. Oh! conceit. But once oh once to taste real college life and then settle down. Who that a little life one has to live. Alas! Why not live according to the scale of harmony, not discord.”
Oct. 31: “…I received a letter from the agency. It is a vacancy in South Bend, Indiana. I apply sending my photograph…”
Nov. 5: “…Well the Indiana job has trailed off like a comet. It too shot off leaving my brain mangled with the mere thought of ever having thought about it…”
Nov. 7: “My acknowledgement was sent me from Milwaukee that I was put down as a H.S. instructor in German—nerve if must go with me. Also a note from South Bend Ind. Simply to fill out the time worn blank… Now my plans are for Eng. met in Manitowoc followed by a half year in Syr[acuse]. Wonder if my plans will deteriorate or grow to. Let’s us [sic.] wait + see.”
Nov. 14: “…Now I’ve written to Manitowoc’s superintendent Zimmers inquiring about that Eng. position he mentioned about. I heeded it not, only that I took mental note of what he said + centered my daring inquiry about that. I mailed some Friday A.M. what will come of it—is more than I can tell but it is in the kin of others. Now I won’t philosophize about it any longer. The answer will be there and that alone will help me to consider future thoughts. If I write now about it I may be wasting words. It is not for me but the wise sage to fortell. S. Bend Ind. returns my picture and letter…”
Nov. 18: “In A.M. I got a telegram from Chicago thru the Fiske Agency, notifying me of a vacancy in Vermillion, S.D. I applied and sent my picture too. Just like all else that letter goes and it must talk it may or may not succeed.”
Nov. 19: “Another telegram notifying me of a vacancy in Highland Park, Illinois. Mr. Clark Wright sup’t! Well could it happen any better, ever there if that isn’t the same man to whom I wrote in July, who asked me to come to interview—I didn’t + lost the job. Now what more? Will he acknowledge me having once refused me? Maybe his first refusal may prompt the acceptance now, but why talk, his thoughts are not my thoughts, his thinks will not be so different. If I’d get that job—well, why add that—Wait + see—look upon the future as the one to inform you as to what you will do. Now Manitowoc has not responded yet. If they do why then I will not be in a tangle and must unwind…”
Nov. 20: “A day that hath passed without it’s [sic.] path being marked for me except by the minutes, little milestones on the pathway of life. In A.M. I got 4 letters. The agency notified me of jobs by letter as telegramed [sic.] few days previous. Parker Agency too sent me notification to the same effect namely job at Vermillion S.D…”
Nov. 23: “Early Mon. morning I went to the mail box. And it was what my inner conscious had anticipated, I again was cast out by the principals in the case, namely the most holy superintendents. Telegrams, hurried letters, mails faithfully watched and all to no avail. My disappointment, or the outer crust of my inner conscious was keen…”
Nov. 24: “Again my voice sayeth sad, sad! Oh Agency where art they [thy] schools. Where superintendent thy position! Only 2 lone papers came and that was all there was. I can’t make myself do a thing, I lack ambition, energy I have nothing to work for—no nothing at all. Yes my predictions were true after all. I would be without a position at Thanksgiving. Just a few weeks more and then the wait is “oer” [o’er]—I’ll cast my oars out toward a strand where I’ll embark and once more flaunt myself into the face of higher education. Tonight is evening school.—so passes the time…”
Nov. 25: “…Oh! what mail came. It was only a like touch of coloring upon an already painted picture; a letter or rather an envelope from Highland Park, Ill. giving me in return for my efforts nothing, except my picture and no application so that has fallen thru. Could I be a sage or soothsayer and know the why it might change my destiny so that my former self would be lost and a new and better form would be built upon the mistakes of the old. If I but knew! If I but knew to guess + conjecture is fruitless for I may be all wrong.”
Nov. 27: “Mail brought me a letter from the Fisk Agency dated Nov. 25. It is a late date from the time they notified Fisk until now, and then there are countless other reasons as to why I fail to hear from there or anywhere. I rushed up an application and had pa take it down so that it would leave on the noon mail. However this is one of the least encouraging positions I have applied for. There seems to be a dead note in it somewhere that seems to relieve the strain of waiting for an impossible reply. For once my dream came true, if each come ever true. Let’s call it avoid a superstitious, an unusual coincidence. I dreamed a letter lay in the mail here addressed to me from Boston, a notification from the agency. And in the morning one came not from Boston but from Cleveland Ohio, east also…”
Dec. 1: “This morning Mr. Zimmers’ letter came with just the most fragile oh so far away ray of light. He has placed my letter on file; as yet he anticipates no vacancy in the Eng. dept. Of course, good fortune has turned away from me. Oh! so cold us she; haughty—and I can’t follow. Mayhap good things will come. Like Monte Cristo—’Wait and Hope!’ In desperation I wrote to Sheboygan, for a chance there simply to try out, but mind you no faith in it. Faith cannot be held up when there is no bark to cling to when in deep water…”
Dec. 4: “…Today again, I am planning to give up my “getting no job” and spend the next semester in Syracuse. I’ll have a chance to go now, and mayhap if I take it all things might go arwy [awry]—and if I don’t go—but thereby hangs the tale. One can always say what might have been—but not what is to be. It is no small wonder that the Greeks + Romans attempted nothing without journeying to the soothsayers. Then if things turned ill, their own selves were rendered blameless, and they were conscience free…”
Dec. 9: “…Here Mr. Morton in response to my letter unsuspectingly requesting him to look over my records, I learn as follows—It would be hard to receive an appointment on your credentials alone. I spend the entire morning writing him conclusive statements based upon that statement. I may have failed to make my points clear, he will respond in short sentences and I will still be at a loss. This is inevitable. I must write to some from whom I can obtain statements which could be sent out with my credentials. Will there be someone to help and aid me in this. Perhaps no one is interested in me enuf to even curtail the fate I am plunging toward. How inconsistent. Why was I granted a license of I am not competent to teach. Theoretical, not practical views and decisions seem in the promises made by catalog. If I were incompetent, why an E.X. and V.G. + H.F. in practice teaching. Do all records, diplomas, certificates etc. signify nothing more than mere symbols of the university’s—Only mere forms presented so that you may pass out and make room for others?? I cry—give me a chance so that I can grow and prove my efficiency. I am sure that those men are not heartless. I thought them human—but they may occupy their chair only thru their vagueness and unapproachableness to mystify one so that one should cherish their standards of judgement as unbending…”
Dec. 10: “2 letters today from Fisk. Vacancy in Sioux Falls S.D. from 60-75—6th grade. I sent a brief letter of application, if interested he will write me, but unfortunately my recommends [sic.] are working havoc. Oh! aren’t men unfeeling unless they are personally interested, plainly, if you have a pull O.K. if not shoot along blindly, halt when you become crippled. And Mr. H. Blair of Hibbing, Minn. wants an 8th grade teacher. He goes to the agency during holidays. I’ll let them show my papers, but he won’t notice them because he failed to win last August when A. Tressler notified me…”
Dec. 14: “A Red Letter Day. I received 2 letters one from Sioux Falls S.D. sending me the usual application blank and a second letter from Agency informing me of a dream job in Hammond. Geography as a dep’t subject and some other subjects. I write a careful letter to him. In P.M. I write to Swart of O.N.S. + Gardner of Dunbar. Yeoman does all + more when he must. I have written to Gardner asking him openly to write me, notice, a letter of recommendation. How could I. Well after all I was most driven to it. Let + Trance swore, I did too, but oh! I can’t write it—I can only think this. You see that good job prompted me. Alas it is too a dream.”
Dec. 17: “…Yes, I lose my spirit of true happiness each day by my added disappointments. As day follows day my hopes decrease. My dream position is not even a dream any more. It is nothing now. That too I lay with the rest + forget that such there was. When will that day down when I record upon these pages that my goal has been touched that I have that material bit that harbors in my mind, when I can say “Eureka.” And when commeth the day that I can begin with these letters that mean so much to all of us. joy in the horizon—that it will take me only 24 hours to reach?”
Dec. 19: “Today I received another notification from Fisk Agency. An 8th grade teacher is wanted in Meadville Pa. a town of some 10,000. Another letter and such a fine one from Miss Swart. She sent me her letter of recommendation. I hurried the same to Hammond, Ind. my dream city. It’s more as an impetus to at least hear than ought else…”
Jan. 2 [1915]: “As usual a day after a holiday is not worth while. One gets full of lazi [lazy] streaks. In the morning I beheld a revelation. My inferences may be all wrong, yet, evidence is strong enuf to make the whole thing seems plausible. In brief, a letter from the agency which gave me a big surprise. A vacancy occurred in Grand Rapids, Minn. 75 per, departmental work in Read. and Hist., 7th + 8th grade classes. Doesn’t that sound good? Alas! thereby ends the talk. Remarks are in order now. The letter, to begin with, had been addressed to 2 Rivers, Mich. Returned to Chicago and forwarded here, was the prelude to the proposition. Rose P., a kindergarten instructor, of G.R. Minn. while calling here said nothing I, with only an inkling of suspicion that perhaps she had known about it, decided to phone and ask her about it. Yes, Rose knew, the vacancy was probable before vacation. Thru the agency I found an untrue friend. It is as my mother quoted from Grosmutter— ‘Freunds genug be Wein und Brod aber keine in der Not’ [‘Friends enough with wine and bread, but none in need’]. Jealousy, I think, was the primary motive. Were I to apply there would be a fine chance of getting it. R. would not be the only one there from T.R. I might win some ascendency—And all this from a school mate. Little do I expect a friend to do something that is tangible—but I needed a friend just this season. I helped Letta get a job—In the teacher world one often helps another if their character is straight forward. Letta is a friend in need. That dear girl puts forth all effort to help me; she did all in her power to dissuade me. Hers is I have a position; she has none! I applied there but I am sure all is lost. Tomorrow a teacher must be in the school room. I surely feel qualified to feel that vacancy…”
Jan. 22: “At least a letter from Letta. News—full of it: Miss K. married at Christmas—the board to get ahead, ask her to resign. They quietly hired a teacher thru the Fisk agency, has studied abroad 2 years. Now they need a fourth teacher. Let didn’t speak for me because of the letter I wrote her saying I wouldn’t consider Portland for less than 90 per. I meant that for next year if I invested more in college ed. She misunderstood. The way is too far. It is too late. Fate is against me sure. No matter what I turn too [sic.]—a black wall rises, and says your course is all wrong. Had I chosen the other way—the result is like wise[?] Kismet that governs me. I need courage. I lack these—they are undermining myself. I’m becoming stagnant…”
Jan. 23: “Unhappy day! Knocks in the form of words; ignorant, silly, and more synonyms are applied to me by own kin. Indeed! what more can I say. My ideals are there. Yet in my home life I just simply live along from day to day. Yes I am hungry for a new love and a new life. There is not harmony here, I am too old for this, too old for that. At the U. I am young. Here I am old. I have nothing whatever to turn myself too [sic.]. When I do burst forth and feel—as my home demands she turns upon me, then I am silly, foolish, ignorant, I know nothing. It may not be all meant by this, yet surely my inner self strives for something that will help to put my power into activity. A letter from Pres. Keith promises me help in finding a position. Green Bay has accepted and filed my application. I tried to choose my star, but failed. I must be ready to take what I can yet, not that wherein I can put forth my conceptions of ideals I possess.”
Jan. 25: “…My ap[plication] + picture returned from Beardstown. A card enclosed stating ‘We selected a lady from St. Louis.’ Selection, are we like slaves, picked and paid for? Again my mistake makes me stoop low to beg for a letter of recom[mendation] that will get me a position. God! I asked thy help! I sacrificed Syr. U. because my chance in getting a job is small. I must put forth untiring efforts to establish myself in the teaching field. If I cannot secure the cooperation of the pres. Of b. Godshall I am lost. A whole year almost since June, and no chance to prove good. Goodnight does not write me; neither does Martin; they refrain politely and I must take the consequences alone. Secure cooperation, unprejudiced may help. But my chances are small…”
Jan. 27: “This morning ma asked pa if he could risk some hundred dollars for me to do graduate work—He replied—’Er kanns noch im wohl wagen’ [‘He can still dare’]. Prin[cipal] Martin never wrote me a personal letter—Now I begged him to cooperate. And morning’s mail brought a letter from Pres. Keith. That man, a Harvard graduate and a normal pres. And a good true man. He was willing to help me. Here he has already sent me an emergency call. Even if like the rest it’ll come to naught, it shows a spirit back of it. He is personally interested, the agency, commercially interested, and that [is] pretty cold hearted. A h[igh] s[chool] Eng. + Hist. job at Friendship, Wisconsin, situated in a lone country, surrounded by marsh land; no rail roads; 18 miles nearest R. station. If I get this place the whole difficulty is solved; I won’t need to decide between Syr. + Wis. The Aurora sup’t answered my application and filed it.”
And with that, after this long, long journey of finding a job, Mata finally had some luck. Only about 130 miles away from her home in Two Rivers, Friendship, Wisconsin was tiny and not a very interesting town with a population of only around 300. So began her new adventure in life.
unpublishedhistory 