Memoir

The interview was a nightmare.  It took a certain amount of courage to sit in front of the board and sum great amount to summon enough knowledge to speak.  She was somehow having fifty percent of confidence to get it accomplish, yet another fifty percent fluctuant in deciding to being bold and arrogant, or humble and timid.  Any signs of giggling would identify herself as being weak and incompetent.



She was indecisive, as usual, and she hated herself for being so cautious of the little details that would hurt the consequences.

She pulled off the first interview with much humility and honesty.  The question opener generously directed the conversation into a more carefree and casual mode.  She felt comfortable, and was able to share as much of her knowledge and experience.

Despite of having experience the first interview, a year after she experienced the same anxiety.  However this time, she was alone.  She was about fifty percent relaxed from the experience of the past interview, another fifty percent increased in anxiety by the preparation done by the other candidates.  They were reading and memorizing notes as thick as a dictionary whilst her hands were holding scraps and pieces of papers.

The four square room, she remembered, sound-proof, and for all the things that could happen in there would be a secret between the two.  She was a lady, who greeted her with the only smile as she walked into the room.  Three seconds, and it faded into serious business.  She gave her the easiest question, yet expecting the wrong answer.  She was displeased when the answer was spelled out.  

She was a smart lady.  Theories somehow collided with current issues.  Whoever's good in theories are generally poor at current issues.  Whoever's good at current issues are generally poor at theories.  Likewise bookworms never updated themselves on facebook.  She was a very smart lady, indeed.  The questions took a different turn.  

Questions pointed were intimidating the other, showing her how little she knew.  She was obviously shrinking like a shrimp on the chair.  In another less than ten minutes, the interview ended.  The other spelt victorious, while leaving the poor soul on her knees defeated and ashamed.  Her last words were clear as yesterday's, "You will never be a good teacher."  The words plagued her like a curse.

Or was it true: I am a bad teacher.