Interview Is Over

And now I wait.

There's nothing more strange than going into your old school's staff room. The room that was always forbidden; the room that you knew you'd be in the most serious trouble just for entering. The room with the fanciest chairs, the cleanest carpet, the most expensive paintings, the tastiest water (which we always assumed was vodka).

I went into that room today. For a brief moment, I had stepped into that most hallowed of places. Actually, there is one thing more strange than entering your old school's staff room: seeing your old teachers in there.

In a brief glance around the room, I recognized about half a dozen faces that I hadn't even thought of in 10 years. How weird would that be if I was allowed to be with them in there? To have those awkward "nice to meet you" comments even though I had been a student there for 5 years.

So my interview went fairly well. I was nervous, as usual, but I don't think I made an ass of myself. I might have avoided questions like politicians and celebrities, but I tried to be honest and to be myself.

It isn't easy when the person interviewing you is an old housemaster who, on numerous occasions, hauled you out of bed when you were supposed to be in class. The housemaster who punished you for missing curfew (I was marching up Yonge Street after the Jays won the 1992 World Series. It wasn't my fault!). The housemaster who busted you for ticking off a dozen names during breakfast registration. Still, it was nice to see a familiar face and one that may actually be on my side in the decision making.

So I wait. I'd really like this job, and I really don't want to jinx anything here, but I really want this job. I think that despite the intense oddity of being a teacher at my old school, I would like to have some of that magic staff room water.