Despite Murphy’s Law almost taking effect, I think the second interview today went well. This morning, I was printing out 16 pictures for my mock lesson – two copies each of eight pictures dealing with The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald in some aspect. Although I love my printer and think it’s completely awesome that is has the ability to print photo-quality pictures, the process is incredibly time consuming. I only had time to print twelve and my lesson plan before I rushed out the door.
I stopped at Dunkin Donuts before I hit the parkway for an iced French Vanilla coffee, but it was disgusting so I didn’t finish it. I have no one to blame but myself; I still don’t know how to properly order coffee. I’d much rather just make it myself. Because it was iced and because it was hot outside and because my car does not have air conditioning, the plastic cup condensated severely, to the point where it left a puddle in the cup holder. It was a very small puddle, but still a force to be reckoned with apparently, because I set my iPod in the cup holder during my mock lesson and it now has water damage. It’s stuck in the “locked” position and won’t stop playing. I hope it’ll dry out and right itself.
I was about 30 minutes into my drive when I realized I still had Jimmy’s carseat in the back of my truck from yesterday. Spank me hard; Mom totally needed it to take Jimmy to the store with her today because she needed to buy supplies for Mikey since he is going to Boy Scout Summer Camp. I wasn’t going to get home until the afternoon, so she went anyway, strapping Jimmy into the seatbelt and praying she didn’t get a ticket. Thankfully, everything turned out just fine.
Before I got to the high school, I stopped at a Walgreen’s nearby to use the restroom. I wasn’t buying anything, so the only item I brought in with me was my car key, which is a single key. It used to be on a little key chain, but I took it off and I cannot remember why. Anyway, I didn’t have any pockets in my dress and didn’t have my purse with me, so while I was gathering toilet paper, I put the key in my mouth for safe keeping. I didn’t swallow it or anything, but left it dangling precariously between my lips so that it fell into the toilet. I’m not proud of the fact that I retrieved my one and only car key from a public toilet, but it needed to be done.
When I got to the interview, everything went surprisingly well. The woman said my lesson went very, very well. She wanted me to meet with the principal but he was in Trenton, so I’m journeying back tomorrow. To make it even more worthwhile, I’m going to meet Raina for lunch.
She also asked for a writing sample. I had two choices: a prompt from the AP test, or writing about a time I dealt with a difficult and/or challenging student. I haven’t (knock on wood) had a truly difficult and/or challenging student, so I went to with the prompt from the AP test. You had to pick a novel from the list and discuss and analyze how symbolism is used in the novel. You also had to come up with a catchy title. I saw Invisible Man and thought of Ralph Ellison’s novel. I also remembered the light bulbs in his basement apartment. I thought they symbolized his desire to be noticed and in the spotlight, his desire to be separate from his race and seen as a human being rather than be negelected for being a black man, and that fact that the electricity was stolen showed his bitterness and anger turned into a form of rebellion. Wikipedia says the symbolism is that the light is the truth. Ooops. It has also dawned on me that the novel could have been The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells. Damnit.
And it isn’t even Friday the 13th. Wow.
The prompt for today has three parts to it, so I’m going to break it down and make it last over three days. Enjoy!
PROMPT: “You accidentally overhear a conversation between two people you’ve never met. The topic of the conversation shocks and dismays you. Write about these conversations and describe how you respond to the content:
- 1. A conversation between two stockbrokers
- 2. A conversation between a priest and a member of his parish
- 3. A conversation between a woman and the man with whom she’s been cheating on her husband
PIECE (#1): I was sitting at the local Starbucks minding my own business, just trying to fit in and be trendy – reading a copy of The New York Times and sipping on an iced coffee. I was perusing the Arts and Literature section, hoping some beautiful and brilliant stranger would notice and comment, and then whisk me off my feet with wonderful conversation. As that had yet to happen, I was susceptible to distractions and more often than not, the word “rape” serves as a ginormous distraction. The word had been uttered in a painful-sounding whisper emitted from a pale and trembling young man. He was sweaty and shaky, but wearing a suit. The contradiction was intriguing, and as discreetly as possible, I began to listen to the unfolding discussion.
“I don’t know, Pete,” the shaky man gulped. “I think we should tell someone about it. I saw her, man. She looked rough; like she’d been in the ring for ten rounds. That’s not right.” At the end of his speaking, he looked down at his trembling hands.
“Are you seriously thinking about going to the cops?” Pete asked, clearly shocked and appalled at the mere idea of involving the proper authorities in whatever mess they were talking about. “What will happen to us, Tom? What about our careers? What about our futures? If we blow the whistle, every accounting firm in the city will blacklist us as squealers and tattletales. We didn’t rape anyone, so why should we be punished?”
My eyes were wide behind my paper. There had been a rape? These two knew about it, and hadn’t done anything about it?
Tom looked up with a pained expression, moving closer to Pete and dropping his voice even lower. “What about her, Pete? What about the girl?”
“What about her?” Pete shot back. “She can go to the authorities. It’s not our affair to be involved in. All we did was attend a party, all right?”
Tears welled in Tom’s eyes. “What if she comes to us for help? What if she needs us to be witnesses and to speak up? What would you say, Pete?” Despite the fact that Tom was clearly depressed and unsure of himself, his question was more challenging than it was rhetorical.
It was now Pete’s turn to drop his gaze. He leaned back in his chair, and his cheeks reddened with shame. He spoke through gritted teeth with a hand almost covering his mouth. “I’m not going to say anything, Tom. You won’t either, if you know what’s good for you.”
I had heard enough. Slowly, I stood. I folded my paper neatly and placed it on the tabletop, beside my unfinished coffee. I turned to my left and walked just a few paces until I was standing in front of Pete. I pulled my hand back and slapped the bastard as hard as I could across the face. Tom jumped to his feet, surprised but not knowing what to do. I leaned forward, nearly spitting in Pete’s face and said, “You’re a monster.”