Interview with a damp sire

The ibuprophen tablets were not doing their job, and I felt like shit. The panel of three ladies were seated on the other side of 2 rows of tables. I had a choice of 3 seats to sit in. They did not rise, but told me to sit down.

I took my coat off and complied.


You will have heard of the horse whisperer. These were the interview whisperers. They introduced themselves. Normal names, but long job titles, with the last lady, who was in charge of the proceeding, having a job title about 12 words long. It was a good job that my brain was closing down, otherwise I would have made a tit of myself by saying something like “You must have to wear an enormous badge to fit all that in.”


They asked me some questions. Some questions I even heard, some I had to guess at.


I explained that I had had flu and that I could not hear anything out of my right ear. These are the experts in dealing with children with disabilities, but there was no discernible rise in voice levels.


I’m sitting there thinking it’s bloody hot in here, tuning in and out. Now they are telling me that there are currently 3 posts with more in the pipe line. They will keep the names of successful candidates on file for future posts.


Would I prefer a post in town or in the country? Would my level of French enable me to help a child with their reading and enable me to put something that the child didn’t understand into alternative French?


Would I be able to organise events? Why would a disabled child not be able to attend school? What experience did I have of children with disabilities?


Many of the posts also involve a combination of child care and school admin work. They would keep me informed of their decision.
"Oh well, that was that" I thought.


Eventually the interview was over and I was able to wobble off into the clear, white light and straight home to bed.
"Atchoo! - one size fits everyone!".  (Sparks)