I have no idea what I wrote about this morning. I'm sure it had something to do with preparing for the job interview this afternoon. Whatever it was, it's gone. Lost in cyberspace. It's a wonder that I can continue to post here with any kind of success.
So, about this interview. Last week I was looking through the job announcements for part time teaching in the local colleges, and I came across a job opening at a college in the area. It calls for a full-time English instructor, and pays very well. Exceedingly well. So well that I thought, what they heck, I'll apply and see what happens.
Well, what happens is that I passed the first review and I was called in for an interview. Still very cool. Until I got to the interview. I was escorted into a conference room, where the Dean introduced himself, the Vice-Provost, and the English Chair. Whoa! Then he proceeded to give me an agenda for the interview.
Who gives an agenda for an interview? It scared the poopy out of me. First, he makes some opening remarks (I don't remember, I was still focusing on the 5th item, which called for questions). Then he gives me the history of the institution. Weird.
After all the niceties and everything, they pull out my file and proceed to dissect my transcripts in front of me. Here, I owe an apology to any student I ever comforted by telling that the transcripts are not important after you get that first job.
I know they were counting credits in English, but all I could see from across the room was that big fat red D that I got in microbiology my first semester in college. I spent the next three years trying to recover from that semester, and there it was, like a coffee table decoration.
Everything after that went well. I mean, there was nothing heinous, nobody was mean or anything.
They handed me a grammar worksheet and asked me to look it over for a couple of minutes and then teach a lesson. "Oh, and for your convenience, there's a flipboard behind you. Take your time."
I imagine that they compare notes on the deer-in-the-headlights-looks that they get from unsuspecting candidates like me.
Man, I thought I was going to pass out from sheer anxiety. Nevertheless, I pulled it off, in spite of the Dean being unprepared, the Vice-Provost giggling through the debacle, and the Dept. Chair pretending to not be able to read. I sure hope they were just looking to see if I freaked out, or what, because if that's the usual student there, maybe I don't need the money that bad.
Whatever. Mixed feelings about the whole thing. With Vicky at college, not a bad deal for us. On the other hand, am I really prepared to give up my freedom and be shackled to a professor's schedule? We'll see.