Teachers in Transition, Ep 261: A Job Search Feels Like Groundhog Day—and You’re Not Wrong

In episode of Teachers in Transition, career coach and former middle school teacher Vanessa Jackson uses the cult classic Groundhog Day as a metaphor for the emotional and professional loop so many educators feel stuck in. Vanessa dissects the 5 stages of grief not only as they appear in Bill Murray’s iconic time-loop comedy, but as they show up in the lives of teachers contemplating an exit from education.

Listeners will discover:

• Why Groundhog Day is more than a comedy—it’s a career transition parable
• How teachers experience denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance in their own version of “the loop”
• The “Pink Sock Strategy” for standing out on job applications
• Tips for building resilience during a job hunt that feels repetitive and demoralizing
• How your quirkiest skills (like Vanessa’s concert pianist degree) may be your secret weapon

Vanessa also shares a deeply personal connection to the film and uses it as a jumping-off point to affirm one simple truth: change is possible, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.

If you’re a burned-out teacher wondering, “Is this all there is?”—this episode is a must-listen.

CONNECT WITH VANESSA:
📧 Email: Vanessa@TeachersinTransition.com
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The transcript to this podcast is found on the episode’s homepage at Buzzspout

Transcript

Hi! Welcome back to Teachers in Transition – the podcast and the coaching program.  I’m Vanessa – I taught middle school for 25 years before leaving the classroom and going to work in the staffing industry where I worked at a Fortune 500 company.  Now, I work for teachers – helping them to work out the exit strategy out of the classroom and into the next phase of their career journeys.   This summer, I have been using older movies as a lens through which we can explore career transition and job hunting.   Movies have always been my favorite summer activity. Today, we’re diving into one of the most deceptively profound movies in comedy history: Groundhog Day. Yep, the one where Bill Murray wakes up over and over again on February 2 in a small Pennsylvania town and can’t escape the loop. If you’ve ever felt like you were living the same day on repeat... well, same. Especially if you’ve ever taught during testing season.

Groundhog Day was released in 1993, directed by Harold Ramis and starring Bill Murray as the grumpy, cynical weatherman Phil Connors. Andie MacDowell plays Rita, his producer, who studied 19th-century French poetry—more on that later. The movie scored a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes and has since become a cultural reference point. The plot is exactly as described – grumpy weather man sent on location to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania to cover Groundhog Day.  Phil is moving through life at the speed of ‘meh.’   He’s selfish, he’s sarcastic, and he starts to wake up every morning to learn that it’s still February 2.  Because they were clearly filming over more than the one cold February day, they would film all the versions of a scene on the same day to help with continuity.  I think this would be why it sometimes feels like there was a lot of moments of improv. 

 What makes Groundhog Day a cultural touchstone isn't just the humor - it’s how it popularized the playable time-loop trope. Think Russian Doll, Edge of Tomorrow, or even Palm Springs. Stories where characters relive the same day, refining their choices like they’re running emotional marathons. This is perhaps part of the reason that it earned a spot in the U.S. National Film Registry Archive.  

A couple of weeks ago in episode 259,  I shared the Native American story about the two wolves that live inside of us.  One that is good, and one that is dark.  I used it in the context of training AI, but now that I’m looking for it, I see it’s echoes in more places. Like here.  Phil starts as selfish and snide. At first, he uses his time-loop powers to manipulate people, chase women, and steal money. He experiments in a life with no consequences – which seems grand at first, but quickly gets boring.  Without consequences, risk just isn’t very risky, you know?  When hedonism gets old, he spirals into despair. There's a dark stretch where he ends every day early, unable to find meaning.

But eventually, he starts feeding the good wolf. He learns piano. He reads poetry. He starts helping townspeople - rescuing a boy from falling, changing tires, performing the Heimlich Manuever, saving marriages. It’s only after this transformation, when he's consistently kind with no agenda, that the loop terminates.

 Here’s a fun twist: Groundhog Day actually featured prominently in the homily at my wedding. Not even joking. We talked about how love is less about the grand gestures and more about choosing each other every day - even when the alarm clock plays the same tune.  We were also told that our marriage would be what we made of it because we would wake up in it everyday and we got to choose what we could do. 

And, that’s part of why my husband and I celebrate Valentine’s Day on February 2.  It’s a nod to our wedding and a nice little remembrance. Also. We were always too busy to celebrate on the 14th anyway because of our work schedules, and it’s way easier to get a dinner reservation.

The Five Stages of Grief in Groundhog Day: Groundhog Day also offers a surprisingly accurate emotional map of grief.  That’s intentional.  The writer, Danny Rubin, actually took the Kubler-Ross model of the 5 Stages of Grief as a template for Phil’s progress through the film.  It’s a good example of how grief isn’t just reserved for the death of a person, but also we experience the grief of losing control, losing identity, and losing the life you thought you’d have. Sound familiar, teacher friends?  Maybe some grief over losing the career you loved?  Here’s how it manifests in the movie. (spoiler alert, Phil doesn’t seem to grieve the loss of his career…)

The first is Denial: At first, Phil is bemused. He tries to logic his way out—assuming it’s a glitch, a misunderstanding, maybe even a prank. He leans into denial by trying to do things exactly the same or pretending nothing’s wrong. 

Next, Anger: Then comes frustration. He lashes out—at people, at situations, even at the universe. His sarcasm sharpens. He’s furious that he’s stuck while everyone else moves on. Haven’t we all had days where we yell at the calendar? 

Next up: Bargaining: Phil begins to experiment: “What if I do this differently?” He tries to win over Rita with perfect lines. He memorizes her drink, her favorite poetry, her dreams - but it’s all transactional. He’s bargaining with fate, trying to crack the code. 

Next: Depression: When all his efforts fail, Phil collapses inward. He gives up. There’s an entire montage of him ending his day early - because what’s the point? The loop feels endless, and he feels powerless. 

And finally, Acceptance: Finally, Phil lets go. He stops trying to escape and starts trying to live where he’s at. He learns, he helps, he listens. He shows up with presence, not performance. That’s when change becomes possible.

It’s not a straight path. It never is. It is, however, a deeply human path. And if you’re in a loop of your own - career-wise, emotionally, or even spiritually - those stages might help you name where you are.  Because we absolutely deal with our own stages of grief as teachers.  We’ve touched on it briefly, but we haven’t done a deep dive on it in the podcast before. 

This is just starting to get major play around those who know:  The grief that comes with leaving teaching - or even just thinking about leaving it while you’re still in it.

Not just the job. But the identity. The calling. The community. The version of yourself that once lit up at lesson planning and bulletin boards.  I used to love professional development. No lie.  I loved learning new things.  But then there was never time to let the new things really take root before we’d yanked those out and stuck something newer in,  And once you’re around long enough, you realize someone is making pretty good money repackaging old concepts with new words.   Meanwhile, you have a classroom to set up and actual important things to go do!  

But I digress. Like any loss, that grief has stages.

Let’s walk through what that can look like when you’re a teacher caught in the emotional undertow, so:

Denial
“It’s not that bad. I just need a break.”
You push through. You tell yourself winter break or spring break or summer will fix it. You think maybe the next school year, the next principal, the next curriculum will magically be the one. But deep down? You’re already running on fumes.  I call August the month of Hope.  We’re all excited about the potential.  Students are excited because they are looking at a clean slate.  The kids who never have problems are excited to see what the year brings. The kids with plenty of challenges are excited to think that this year will be their year – that nothing has gone wrong yet.  Teachers are excited and eager to see what is coming.  In August, no one has “that student” and we’re all hoping that this is the year that admin takes a few things off of our plates instead of adding 5 more. 

Anger
“Why am I doing the work of five people and getting blamed for everything?”
You see the cracks in the system - and it makes your blood boil. You snap more easily. You start losing sleep trying to keep up - which doesn’t help the rage issues.  People start driving like idiots all around you. You rage-scroll. You contemplate life with less stress perhaps working at air-traffic control tower when the power goes out (#sarcasm).

Bargaining
“Maybe if I just switch schools... or districts... or teach art instead of math…”  Sometimes that’s is a great plan.  That’s all it takes because the current environment is bad.  Other times, it isn’t. You’re still trying to stay in a toxic place. Trying to fix it. You’re hoping a change of scenery might be enough. But it’s not always the school. Sometimes it’s the whole system. You bargain with God, your family, your students and yourself. Does that work?  It didn’t work for me. 

And then - Depression
“I’m so tired. I can’t even imagine what else I’d do.”
You feel stuck. Numb. You get to work earlier because it takes so much longer to get out of the car, or on the other side of the trip, you hide in your car for a few minutes to enjoy the peaceful quiet of nothingness. Like your spark is gone. You question everything: your value, your future, your sense of self. You feel like your house is falling apart and you fall further and further behind no matter how hard you try.  You escape into late night doom-scrolling.  It’s not laziness. It’s heartbreak. And it’s heavy.  And tears are absolutely normal.  Actually, they’re healthy.  They’re heathier than than stuffing all the feelings into a box and hoping you never have to open the box.

And then: Acceptance
“I think I’m ready for something different.”
You have new ideas to tackle your situation. Maybe it’s classroom management.  Maybe you reach the decision that you’re done and ready to go.  Then again, this doesn’t mean you have it all figured out. It might just mean you’re done pretending. You’re ready to explore what else is possible with hope, and maybe a little fear. But mostly? You’re ready.
 
And sometimes I don’t know why they call it a cycle. It’s more like a pin ball shooting around and bouncing off all five of this stage-points with varying degrees of overwhelming.  It’s not cyclical.  There’s no pattern – linear or otherwise.  It’s more like whack-a-mole with your feelings.  “which one pops up today?!?”

If you’re somewhere in this grief pinball machine—first of all, you’re not broken. You’re human. And you’re not alone.  And most importantly, know that there is no wrong way to grieve.  There is just your way.  I am a huge fan of talking to a profession when things are too overwhelming.  And as I have said before, I am not a therapist, nor do I play one on TV, I am a professional at helping people find a new career and to job hunt outside of the classroom. I even found myself on a top-ten list the other day  That was cool! 

This podcast? This community? It exists because I’ve been through those stages, too. And I promise you - there is life after  you leave the classroom.

So if you're listening right now and thinking, “Yep, that’s me—I’ve cycled through all five of those stages of grief this week,” I want you to hear this:

You don’t have to stay stuck.

Grief means something mattered – and that it mattered deeply.  I love that line from the WandaVision TV series.  It occurs when Wanda tries to explain to Vision how much it hurts to have lost her brother.  Vision asks her “What is grief, but love persevering?”  Sigh. I love that line.  And your grief? It’s strong evidence of how deeply you’ve loved this work, these students, this calling.

But loving something doesn’t mean you owe it your sanity or your health.

What Groundhog Day teaches us -  and what the story reminds me of - is that even in the middle of the loop, change is possible. Not all at once. Not without pain. But it is possible.

And that’s where we begin the next phase of this conversation: not with pressure, but with possibility.

Let’s talk about what comes next in our career transition segment—not in a shiny, “Here’s your dream job in 30 days!” kind of way—but in a real, step-by-step, loop-by-loop way. Starting with small, doable shifts that help you reclaim your agency and reimagine what your next chapter could look like.

When you start to build that exit plan, you do it with the same grace and grit you’ve always given everyone else.  

 So many teachers feel stuck - teaching the same day, the same year, the same system - like Phil in that endless loop. You’ve probably tried to break free, only to find yourself pulled back in by fear, guilt, or sheer exhaustion – or even hope (remember?  This year will be different!”)

But the lesson of Groundhog Day is this: small actions, repeated consistently, lead to big change. That’s true in job hunting, too.

 Rita—Phil’s producer in the movie played by Andie MacDowell -studied 19th-century French poetry. Totally impractical, right? That’s right there on par with my concert pianist degree (no kidding – I have one of those!) Except that Rita’s degree becomes a point of connection. And it’s a detail that sets her apart. 

You have your own version of French poetry. A skill, a passion, a quirky resume bullet that seems random - but might be your hook. Don’t bury it. Embrace it.  Park it right there on the front porch!

It’s the pink socks strategy – That’s that story where a hiring manager had hundreds of people to choose from so that choosing from the top ten candidates had to be very hard – their skills levels were virtually identical at that point.  When queried about why she hired the candidate she did, she replied that she chose the candidate with the pink socks because it made that candidate stand out from the others.  She remembered the socks.  So, I call this the Pink Sock Strategy. 
 
 My degree as a concert pianist gets some funny looks.  It gets a LOT of funny looks. I don’t know what I was thinking… But I can tell anyone that the hours upon hours I spent in practice taught me to see the importance of getting the small details correct and how to see their place in the big picture. I can guarantee that piano degree is a conversation starter.

Among the content of the special features, Harold Ramis states that the original idea was for Phil to live February 2nd for about ten thousand years. Later, he says that Phil probably lived the same day for about ten years. I think that’s baloney given how much piano he learned. The song he plays at the party at the end is based on a Rachmaninoff piece. That’s hard! The movie itself (according to IMDB trivia) only shows us 38 different days. Which begs the question - what song could you wake up to every single day for that long? I don’t know about you, but even my favorite tunes start sounding like a form of torture after a while. 

This seems like a great time to talk about rejection resilience. 

Picture it, Opening Frame:
You wake up. You tweak your resume. You scan the same job boards. You write another cover letter that feels like it disappears into the void.
Rinse. Repeat.

It starts to feel like every day is the same: applying into the ether, hearing nothing back, wondering if you’re the problem.

If that sounds familiar, that’s the Groundhog Day effect of job hunting.  Let’s talk about a few of them: 

1. The Resume Reset Loop

“How many times have I reworded ‘Designed interdisciplinary units across grade levels’ this week?”

You start with good intentions. You open that resume file—again. You tweak a verb, reframe a bullet, agonize over whether to say “facilitated” or “implemented.” And then you do it all over again the next day for a different job description. It’s like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic - same story, different format. Eventually, it becomes this ritual of control, something you can do when everything else feels uncertain.

Tip:
 Instead of constantly starting over, create a modular resume system: a set of plug-and-play paragraphs you can easily swap based on the type of job. That way, you're refining, not rewriting the same content. Progress, not perfection.

2. The Cover Letter Copy-Paste Spiral

“Dear Hiring Team, I’m excited to apply for…wait, didn’t I already write this yesterday?”

Each cover letter starts to blur into the next. You try to sound enthusiastic. You Google synonyms for “passionate.” Because passionate is a buzzword. You paste in some corporate buzzwords and hope for the best. And underneath it all? You feel like you’re just faking it - sending your voice out into a void that rarely speaks back.

Tip:
 Write one strong, core letter that expresses your values, skills, and why you’re transitioning. Then, you only tweak the first and last few sentences for each application. This saves your sanity and keeps your voice authentic.

3. The Interviewing Identity Crisis

“Tell me about yourself.” Cue existential spiral.

You prep for interviews by contorting your story to match the job description. Suddenly, your entire career becomes a highlight reel with no bloopers. You start answering like you think they want you to - cutting out the parts that made you human in the classroom. By the time you're mid-interview, maybe you don’t even recognize the person talking.

Tip:
 Ground yourself in your why before you rehearse for your what. This is where that whole process of clarify is very effective. You can craft a short narrative that honors your teaching experience and your desire for a new path. You’re not abandoning your past. You build on it.

4. The Silent Rejection Echo Chamber

“They ghosted me again.”

You pour your heart into an application. You meet every listed qualification. You even had a mutual connection put in a good word. And then… crickets. No reply. No closure. Just another stone in your growing wall of self-doubt. It's exhausting.  It is demoralizing. And It starts to feel personal—even when it’s not.

Tip:
 Create a “Loop Log” where you track every application, reflection, and outcome. Seeing your efforts in one place can help you stay objective.  It all becomes data points. And it reminds you that you are making moves, even when the world is quiet. You can take those data points and help direct future interactions. 

5. The Emotional Rollercoaster

One day you’re hopeful. The next, you’re crying in your car like it’s the end of act two. Repeat above procedures.

The emotional toll of job hunting is real. One moment you feel empowered - excited, even. The next, you're spiraling into comparison on LinkedIn or questioning whether you’re cut out for anything else. It’s not just a career search - it’s an identity reckoning. And the repetition of it all wears on your soul.

Instead, design a weekly ritual that centers you. Maybe you light a candle and journal every Friday afternoon. Maybe you give yourself Saturdays completely off. Whatever it is, make space to rest, reflect, and recharge. That’s where your clarity and your resilience will come from.

The truth is, Groundhog Day wasn’t about escaping the loop—it was about transforming within it. And that’s what your job hunt can be, too.

Not a hamster wheel. But a practice. A rhythm. A slow reveal of the version of you that’s been growing beneath the burnout.

Next time you hit “submit” on an application, remember: it’s not just about getting out. It’s about becoming the kind of person who knows where you’re going next.

 The beauty of Groundhog Day isn’t that Phil finally gets the girl. It’s that he becomes a better human - someone who shows up with integrity and joy even when no one’s watching. Isn’t that what we’re all working toward?
 
What does that metaphorical February 3 look like to you? You don’t have to do it all today. Just take one step. And if the loop starts again tomorrow? You’ll be that much closer to who you’re becoming.

That’s the podcast for today! If you liked this podcast, tell a friend, and don’t forget to rate and review wherever you listen to your podcasts. Tune in weekly to Teachers in Transition where we discuss Job Search strategies as well as stress management techniques.  And I want to hear from you!  Please reach out and leave me a message at Vanessa@Teachersintransition.com  You can also leave a voicemail or text at 512-640-9099. 

I’ll see you here again next week and remember – YOU are amazing!