The Interview

"Good afternoon, everyone."

"Good afternoon, Miss Tan, is it?" A small room with a table, and 3 interviewers sitting at it. On the left, a middle-aged man with tanned skin. On the right, a middle aged lady, with the same kind of spectacles all teachers wear. In the center, a *cough* large imposing lady with an equally imposing voice. I sit down in the only vacant chair, facing the firing squad.

"So tell us more about yourself then. I see you graduated last year in December? What have you been doing since then?"

"Well, I was a research assistant in NUS for a while, then I was doing full-time tuition while looking for a job. However, later I found that I liked teaching so I concentrated on tuition instead."

"Why is that so?"

"How do I put it... You invest your time and effort in a student, you teach her throughout the year, and then when you get your returns in the form of good grades, you feel a sense of achievement."

"What if your students don't pass? I get this feeling that them passing their exams are really important to you. If you're teaching a class of 35-40 people, not all of them are going to pass their exams, so what are you going to do?"

"I won't be upset over it. If my students fail, then I don't see it as something to be upset about. I see it as something I have to help her improve on. There's no use feeling upset over bad results. The important thing is to find out their mistakes and help them for the next exam."

"You realise that tuition is totally different from teaching? In tuition, you're teaching one student at a time. With teaching, you could potentially face a class of 30 or more students. How are you going to handle that kind of pressure? Can you handle that kind of pressure?"

"Yes, I realise that, but..."
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"What are you going to do, if you're facing a class of 30 students who won't listen to you?"

Self-deprecatingly: "I suppose one advantage is that I have a loud voice."

Middle-aged lady grins. "Shout at them?"

"Probably shout at them and make sure I get their attention. The important thing is to get their attention, and then engage it for the rest of the lesson."

"Have you any friends who are teachers?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you asked them about teaching?"

The various accounts of egoistical principals, manical students and questionable colleagues come to mind. "Yes, I have."

"What did you learn from them?"

"I learned that there is much more to teaching than most people realise. Teaching is not just about standing in front of a class reading from a textbook for 6 hours and then going home." All 3 interviewers nod sagely at this. "There is also a lot of administrative work, paperwork to be done. Also, you can't just stand up in front of a class and improvise on the spot. Lesson plans have to be compiled, and sent to principals for approval. You can't just do what you like with the class." The 3 interviewers nod again, hopefully in approval.

"Are you sure you can handle that pressure? I have to ask, because you only have experience in teaching tuition, which is totally different from actual teaching."

"Well, I would think no job is exactly like teaching..."

"No, there is a job that is." interrupts the man, silent up till now "It's relief teaching. You could have applied for relief teaching. Did you?"

"Yes I did, through the MOE website, but they didn't get back to me."

"The website takes a long time. You should have directly approached the principals of the schools around your area. Did you do that?"

Pause, and then decide on brute honesty. "No, I didn't realise you could do that." A thrust, badly deflected.

"Why didn't you try working in the private sector?" A sensitive question. I attempt to sidestep and feint.

"I felt that in the private sector, er, how do I describe it? A lot of people seem to be out for material gain and nothing else, it's..." I falter, and all 3 stare hard at me. I feel like I'm standing in front of a class giving a presentation, and I said something stupid which the whole class picked up on except me. The imposing lady picks up the pace again.

"Can you handle the pressure of teaching?" She stares me straight in the face.

"Yes, I'm sure I can." I stare right back at her.

"Are you definitely sure you want to teach?"

Images of my menopausal mother spring to mind. "Yes, I'm definitely sure."

---

Well, a summary of the interview that passed on Thursday. Definitely there were other things they said, and which I said, but which I cannot remember for now. Already the day passed by into the vaults of memory and are proving hard to retrieve.

The strongest impression I had of that interview was fencing squad. The moment you sat down, the interviewers drew their points and immediately started attacking you in every possible corner. Sorta like a free-for-all debate... (--!) I felt like I was constantly on the guard, deflecting all their thrusts, and putting in some of my own. All the prepared answers went out of my head, and pure instinct seemed to take over, which, probably, resulted in a much more natural, honest interview. Which could have been part of their dire plan to disarm me. Dammit.

A weird thing about me though. The whole day before the interview, I was hardly worried. [I was worried more about spilling rendang on my white shirt during lunch, and of someone stealing my degree scroll, which I was carrying around] Even when he shook my hand and walked off and I had to enter the MOE building by myself, I was not worried. When I was waiting for my turn to be interviewed, I was not worried. When I was being interviewed, I was too busy defending myself to be worried.

After the interview... I GOT DAMN WORRIED.

After I left the building and could think normally again, I refreshed my memories of the interview. And then I realised, I could have said something better. I could have answered better. Perhaps I should not have said that. OH SHIT.

I called Yen and wailed to her over the phone. "AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!"

"What happened??"

"Ohgoditwasbadisaidabunchastupidstuffishouldhavesaidotherstuffwhydidisaythat"

"Er.................."

"Are you free now? Can you meet up with me for a while?" I sniffed.

"Sigh.............."

So I meet her in the Mac's at Clementi. With my shirt unbuttoned, [I was wearing a tank underneath, no worries] me clutching a cup of Coke Float in my hand, [comfort food] slumped over the table with the most forlorn expression on my face, Yen comments:

"You look like one of those broken-hearted drunks on TV."

"....................................................................................................."

Well, I wail out everything to her, about how disastrous the interview was, about how the 3 gorgons wanted my blood, about how I was so doomed, about how I'd be so screwed if I don't get it and how my mother was going to screech the whole house down if I didn't.

*Much thanks and kudos to Yen, btw, for the tons of patience she has, and for putting up with a almost-hysterical raving lunatic*

In the end, the combination of wailing and Coke float managed to calm me down. By evening, I had delegated the memory to the back of my mind, and once again, jumped into my tuition routine as if nothing special had happened in the afternoon. The only thing to remind me being my white shirt and my degree scroll, which I was still lugging in my hand. [stupid NUS never thought of making it into a more portable A4 size, grumble grumble grumble]

So now....... it only remains to wait. 2-3 weeks later I should find out whether I'm a teacher or not. Wish me luck on this.

*BTW, much credit, hugs and thanks to all who cheered me along the way, who kept telling me I could do it, who kept my confidence up, and who sent me their best regards and wishes on the day itself. All you guys deserve a huge HUG!*

So tomorrow is the day, the DAY when the barest surface impression of a panel of judges who don't know me at all will be key to deciding the direction of my life.

Ain't interviews grand?

Strangely enough, I'm neither worried nor supremely confident about tomorrow. I pretty much wanna just get it done and over with. The possible questions they could ask and every possible answer I could give them have been rolling around in my head ever since I sent out that online application. This is arguably the one presentation in my life that I didn't prepare for one day beforehand.

The shirt is ready to wear, the pants are out of the drawer. The bag is waiting, and the boots can't wait.

Certs, all check. IC, birth cert, check. Exam results, and NUS degree, check.

And now I'm just blogging as usual, like tomorrow is no special day. Tuition, meet him for lunch, and go home and watch anime as usual. It seems like such an ordinary day, TODAY.

Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll turn into a nervous wreck. I'll be a raving lunatic at the MOE building, and I'll spray the interviewers with my wisecrackin' bullets, and they'll wonder what kind of weirdo managed to get by their sophisticated screening methods.

Haiyah, I'm starting to ramble. Anyway, I've already been through some of the questions with Yenn, so at least I have a better idea of what lies ahead of me for the interview.

The path ahead that scares me is the fork where I get rejected by MOE. The path where my mother will go ballistic and accuse me of sabotaging my own future to enjoy my present lazybum lifestyle longer. The one thing that's majorly motivating me to get this now is the prospect of future peace in the household.

Another thing that scared me came from a book I read in DoE's apartment. The book was "The Art of the Deal" by Donald Trump, and it told the story of his brother. ( I forget the name now )

His brother was totally unlike his father, and himself. The Trump family were predominantly business-oriented, with the exception of his brother. His elder brother liked to fly, as a pilot, and loved hunting and fishing, but the father always pressured him into joining the family business, though he had no interest. Trump even told his brother he was wasting his time.

He regretted it later. The brother got pressured into joining the business, but was totally unhappy with it. He became an alcoholic and died at the age of 40.

When I read that, I felt the chills run down my spine at a possible sight into one of my possible destinies. When reality becomes too harsh, the Piscean will seek an escape. It is this way that many Pisceans have a tendency towards alcoholism or drug addictions said a horoscope I read somewhere, and that stuck in my mind. Call me nuts, but I have to admit, last week when my parents really pissed me off, I did feel an urge to drink like crazy, just for the heck of doing so. Thank my lucky stars that I realised it was an insane urge to follow.

Forget the world. Forget your parents. Sink into your own dreamworld and never face this plane again. Sink into the waters and never surface. Sink into the sands and never reach up. Sink and sleep forever.

But in a way, I realised that could be me. Pressured by my parents into walking a path I was reluctant on, regretting it later, but not having the strength to turn back, and eventually dying old and regretful. Full of unborn wishes and dreams that never became blood and flesh.

When first conceived, your dream is as a child in its mother's womb, tender and fragile, and utterly dependent on her for its survival. Nurtured in her loving waters, it will grow and eventually see the light of day. Unloved, unwanted, uncared for, it will suffer. Poisoned either by its mother's own addictions, or killed in one painful miscarriage.

And then one more soul is lost to the world.

*haiz* I ponder too much. I think the more I write in this blog, the more crap comes out from me. [blame me for having an affinity for the written word] Wonder whether anyone would pay me to write a book about my blog? Heh... seems to be a trend at the moment... :p

Back in Spore liao. :) And back from tuition, doing laundry, catching snippets of Desperate Housewives, checking mail, checking friends' blogs, checking other people's blogs, reading online comics, reading forums......

And finally I blog. Heh.

So anyway, a few notes about my short weekend first:

1. Travelling with DoE has resulted in a more eventful holiday than any I've ever had. On the way there, we get cheated by a bus operator, who promised us that the bus would appear at 1530. Instead, the driver apparently oversleeps and the bus leaves at 1700. Bleah.

2. Spent 2nd day walking around aimlessly, doing some shopping. Being an indecisive Piscean, my decision-making process is to let DoE name out a list of possible destinations, and then pick one at random for her to bring me to.

3. Went to a pet shop and glued my eyes at some of the most magnificent purebred cats I had ever seen. The popular one seemed to be a white Ragdoll, but I prefered the black, spunky Tortoiseshell, with its glossy blackish fur so hairy and soft I just wanted to hug it tight in my arms. Briefly entertained thoughts of PETA-like animal liberation but was withheld by DoE.

4. Met the Godfather. Or rather, the ENORMOUSLY magnificent persian [i think] that was being groomed in the store. And if you could see the look on his face, you'd know why I dubbed him the Godfather. Plus he's HUGE.

5. Distances are deceiving. DoE wanted to bring me to this nightmarket, which, while we were standing at the entrance of the mall, was "just behind that building" as she pointed to a nearby building, separated from us by the traffic-jammed road.

In order to get there, we crossed one busy highway, went around a construction site, through a kampung, over a drain, across railroad tracks, across another road, nearly getting our 2 foreign butts killed by some lorry, through a uptown neighbourhood, up a hill, down again, till we finally reached the place. I will never trust her on directions again.

But the market was sooo bustling with food and people. Clothes and toys sold there were uninteresting, but the food! Vegetables and fruits, strawberries and mushrooms from Cameron Highlands sold cheap, a strange, brown kiwi-like thing in a hard shell none of us knew the name for, fresh seafood lying in steel bowls and covered with ice, and a portable steamboat lorry stall, wafts of smoke floating up from the steamboats installed in it, and sticks of every kind of food sticking out.

And we go like, damn why did we have pizza for dinner?

Went back exhausted and sweaty.

6. The income divide there is strange. Upon exiting from the afore-mentioned kampung, we look up from the train tracks and we realise that the huge uptown mall, aimed at the upper middles, was barely separated from the wooden attap houses by a thin block of flats. So less than a kilometer away from where all these yuppies are paying $50 for bags and $20 for salt and pepper shakers, there are people living in rickety wooden attap houses, on dirt roads where chickens roamed and kids played.

Not only that, but the nightmarket, a huge bustling pasar malam full of cheap Roxy knockoff tees and open air vegetable and seafood sellers was plunked in the middle of a Holland-V-esque estate. And next to the market was another small suburban mall with the usual Starbucks and an organic food cafe and a shop selling expensive bottles of single malt whisky.

Makes one think, huh?

7. On the last day, we wake up early, but take our time, seeing as how DoE said, "Don't worry, the buses don't usually leave on time." when she saw me fret in my seat. Unfortunately, due to traffic jams, we arrive at the bus terminus late even by their standards, and end up having to buy tickets for a later bus. :p

I arrive back in Singapore just in time to postpone tuition by one hour, run through the customs, onto the MRT, onto a bus home, dumping my stuff in my room, [cleaned again by that cleaning lady. Hmph!] grabbing my tuition bag, and leaving again, back into the daily grind of life, into my usual work cycle so smoothly, that it seems almost as if I had never left, that all I had done over the weekend was but a dream I had after a really long nap.

Weird huh?

Anyway, lemme move onto another topic now:

---

Going through the blogs, there's apparently been some recent furore over the presence of homosexuality in Singapore. The opinion expressed in the Press has apparently been the usual government line of "Straight, monogamous lifestyles with no pre-marital sex is good" but the underground blogging community has been of the opinion that this is "Bleah!"

Hm, can one get any more succint than that?

Anyway, one thing that caught my eye was someone in some comments box in some website [or somewhere else] mentioning that sex ed was simply too physical in schools. Barring all kinky thoughts, the author was saying that the syllabus in schools focused too much on the physiological aspect of sex, rather than the emotional one.

Looking through my student's Pri 5 science textbook, I think this is very true. However, open as I am at teaching sex ed in schools, I still froze when my Pri 5 student took one look at the overly simplistic diagram they had in the text and asked me "So how does the sperm join up with the egg?"

Other than I'm a prudish coward, I also think that such questions should not be handled by a tuition teacher. I tell her to ask her mother.

I got the Part 2 of the story from her mother today. Her mother told me that the teacher had apparently gone through the topic in somewhat more detail than the text, and that her daughter now knew that sperm came from the penis and entered the egg in the vagina. Man I'm glad she got that cleared up without my help.

The teacher, however, did not go through the topic in too much detail, apparently. Because now her daughter refuses to bathe in the tub with her 8-year old brother, citing worries that his sperm might exit the penis, swim through the water in the tub to enter her 11 year old vagina and hence impregnate her.

Ok now I'm getting worried. [After I had a good laugh with the mother] Because although the topic of puberty [penis enlargements, menstruation and the works] had already been covered by the school, the connection between that and pregnancy has apparently NOT been. And if you don't talk openly with the students about that, then what's the point of even covering the topic at all?

You think primary school kids are too young to understand the full implications of sex? Then why introduce them to the penis and vagina at all? Why not wait till they're in secondary school when you can REALLY be open with them?

Because what I feel is that the currently text is much too shallow a representation of the full story of sex. Sex is not just about a boy shooting sperm into a girl, unwilling or not. With sex comes a whole range of conflicting emotions, driven by our hormones and our natural instinct to reproduce and our natural longings for affection and nurture. And if you're willing to teach the kids the different parts of the reproductive systems, why not at the same time tell them how they might feel about it come puberty, and how to deal with it? And at the same time assure them that it's natural to feel that way?

Instead we get these incomplete, half-done cartoons taught by teachers who are too embarrassed to tell the whole truth. Phwah!

Of course I speak too soon. Wait till I actually have to face a whole class of expectant faces and teach them this topic. Bleah.........