Tuesday, 29 May 2012

The Interview Process - Part 2


Filled with confidence after the Interview Process Part 1, we embarked on the Interview Process Part 2.
 
This time “11 Year Old Lounging on Couch” was to spend the day at another prospective high school as part of a “taster day”.  The idea is that the kids get to spend the day at the school in the hope that it will give them a “feel” for high school and maybe take away some of the fear.

The children were asked to wear their current school uniform to the high school.  This meant that I got to spend the evening prior running around the house screaming at my family that surely, surely somewhere in our shoebox of a house there had to be a pair of school trousers that did not have a hole worn through the knee.


You would think that the family would respond to my shrieks, but apparently whatever was being cooked on Masterchef was far more appealing that my shrieks about school uniforms, either that or my family suddenly no longer understood simple English and have all taken up a second language.

Luckily for me though, I’ve found that by simply walking past the TV at the exact moment of intense drama and flicking the off button on the TV – yes, on the actual TV, not the remote, that then sends the whole family into their own world of panic – hee hee. 

Not that they were any help anyway.  I was presented with 3 more pairs of school trousers, all with holes, and one even covered in mud – “from the cool sliding tackle I did mum”.....hmmmmm

So of course then it’s the crazed SOS text message to the girlfriends – does anyone have a pair of school trousers without holes?  Anyone????

Luckily we were saved and I even managed to convince the 11 year old to brush his hair.  This time the motto “I’ll just put a hat on” would not cut it.

So after dropping off “middle child syndrome” and “tornado terror” we were off to Taster Day.  My beat-up heap of crap (aka Ford Territory) pulled into the car park and instantly put all the glistening BMW’s and Merc’s to shame.


The school we visited actually starts at kindergarten, but we can’t even contemplate the crippling fees until high school.  The reason I mention this is that our day started with a French lesson.  The children already attending this school are already learning French.  The lesson was taught in French, the kids spoke French, the teacher spoke French, while Master 11 sat there looking confused and yawning a lot.  Thankfully I was on the ball and had already decided I had a clear shot with my notebook should he actually nod off.

French lesson over and then it was off to check out the Japanese class.  Thankfully this was more of a level playing field as none of the kids could speak Japanese so they all looked confused together.

From there it was drama, design and finally cooking.  A lovely lady wearing a full chef’s outfit explained to the kids the importance of washing hands and keeping your hair tied back out of your face when preparing a meal as no one wants hair in their dinner do they?

Apparently not, as could be seen by my child turning his head to face me and giving me the “are you listening mother” look. 

Of course “the look” was witnessed by the other mothers in attendance.  “Did your son just give you a look?”  Ah, yes he did.  Apparently long strands of hair are not supposed to be disguised as a new type of pasta – who knew?


We had made it to lunchtime and it was time for the parents to leave for a few hours before returning at 3.20pm sharp to collect the children.

Great, 90 min of freedom with no children.  I’m sure I passed a little shopping village down the road where lunch was calling me and a cup of coffee I could actually drink while it was still hot.

At 3.10pm I realised my little slice of heaven was over and it was time to head back to school.  Quick turn of the ignition and heap of crap (aka Ford Territory) decided it didn’t want to start did it!

Try again.....tick tick tick tick tick

Swear

Try again.....tick tick tick tick tick

Swear ...... again

Try again.....tick tick tick tick tick

By now it’s 3.15pm and the horrible realisation set in that I was going to have to run back to school.

Now, those of you that know me would understand the utter terror that would have presented me with. 

I don’t run!

In fact, I don’t walk, let alone run!  No seriously, I have this horrible horrible allergy to any form of exercise at all – unless there is a shoe sale on and then I might be able to master up a bit of a power walk.


So there I am in my boots with heels, running up not one but two hills while the glistening BMW’s and Mercedes passed me by.  I even had a stitch!!!!  I finally make it to the pick up point at 3.25pm looking like I had just stepped out of a sauna and could only manage a wave and a cough towards the teacher. 

Trust me, when you have just run 100km’s (felt like that anyway) and you have a stitch, it’s very hard to talk.

My ever-reliable 11 year old of course asked what on earth was wrong with me and with a complete look of horror on his face announced that there was no way on earth he was going to walk all the way back to the car.

I think my look of “I just ran 100km’s back to the school to get you – AND I DON’T RUN” soon put any more thoughts of complaint to the side.

So back we trudged to heap of crap (aka Ford Territory) and I pressed speed dial on my phone to the NRMA (have to have them on speed dial when you have a Territory).

20min later and $190 for a new battery and we were on our way home again.

And before you ask, no, there will be no interview process part 3.  I am now officially done.


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