Kindergarten Clara

The day I was interviewed, I was memorable in a few key areas, which is why I think I was just hired to teach Kindergarten.

#1: I wore a suit. SUNY Geneseo, if nothing else at all, prepared us in the area of appearance. If we so much as showed up to a field visit with a hint of flesh, we were ripped off the bus so fast, our early morning alfalfa high was just shot all to hell for the rest of the day. Nothing like the extreme wrath of an early literacy programs professor. The other girl who nervously tapped her way through waiting in what has to be the smallest office room ever wore a lasagna strap pink knit shirt, with black Express "clubbing" pants (aka "I can see your thong") and sandal-y shoes.

And what was probably the crowning touch:

#2: I was a total space cadet just as the interview ended. There were about five minutes before the principal was due to meet with Blonde Express Pants Girl, and he gestured towards my left hand, saying, "We have a little time, can I see that?" Me, being the extreme shnook that I am, thought he was talking about my bling, and held my bejeweled fingers out to him. "No, um, I meant your portfolio," the very befuddled principal stammered.

Oh.

Well, I suppose at the end of the day, all that matters is that now my life is about to revolve around the little brains of 20+ five-year olds, and their various parents. When I give little anecdotes about the hilarty of this age group, I will have to change their names, of course; I want to avoid law suits at least until I'm teaching Biology somewhere. Then, they can bring it.