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Yeah, I don't know how to illustrate nervous meanderings, so I just put up one of my favourite Far Side cartoons about school.

Interview time.

The nice thing about this round is that I have a job to go back to if I flub this one.  Supply teaching is a lovely cushion of limited prep work and relatively short days, nestled into a glider chair of flexible scheduling and minimal responsibility.  (Note to self: best seating analogy yet.)

With that said, I was recommended to this person for the interview, and that means that if I don’t show well, I embarrass my recommender… recommendress… recommendotron by association.  And my dad always told me never to embarrass your recommendotrons.  He also always told me never to show up to any interview in anything less than a suit and tie, and not to cut toward myself when using a knife or chisel.  He is a wise man.

So now, instead of gently coasting through the last week or so of holidays, I have to study up on the minutiae of the Ontario curriculum, memorize the school board’s initiatives, and iron my new pink dress shirt.  And I hate ironing.

But I do love this shirt.  It has a matching pink-plaid tie to go with it, and I feel it walks that fine line of metrosexual without tottering too much into either camp.  Also, Erin helped to pick it out, and I trust her taste in my clothing far more than I do my own.  And it was on sale.  Put all of that together and you have a winning combination that will, hopefully, mask over my incredible deficiencies as a human being during the interview.  Every time that I feel things slipping away from me, I’ll flatten down my new tie and say, “You know, I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard of that approach before, but I can tell you right now that this tie has got it going on!  Don’t you think?  Damn!  Look at it!  It’s like a streak of brilliance lying on a field of awesome!”

Then I will settle back down in my chair and hope that the previous question is forgotten.

The plan is effectively foolproof.

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