Well, all went ok at the course yesterday. No dramas.
But I definitely need a generic response to call upon in moments like these :-
“Tell us your name, what you do, where you’re from and something interesting about yourself.”
Now, let’s face it, I’m in a room full of teachers. Generally speaking, they love to talk about themselves. And of course, they are doing interesting things.
“Hi my name is June, I’m a (insert really important sounding title) from Clipakid High School. An interesting thing about me is that I am getting married next week.” Sighs and clapping congratulations follow.
As luck would have it they started on my side of the table and I was only three people away from divulging my interesting thing. I had nothin. Usually I can think on the spot. I can make some crap up. But, far out, it was a blank page – I could go for the laughs…but they didn’t look too funny, this lot. My mind was going crazy trying to think of something interesting that I do! – Hi my name is xxxxx and I live with a madman, I am very fond of my cat, I like to read, I have a patch of psoriasis behind my right ear that’s been there since high school…
I never talk to strangers about the precious things in my life. I don’t. Because they are too precious to speak of to people/strangers who, well, like me if they were talking about loved ones, just aren’t interested.
So here I was. Next bloke:- “Hi, my name is Allan and I’m (very important) from Ben Dover Public. An interesting thing about me is that I have taken up fencing. Onguard!” (Don’t know the correct spelling for that, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do myself.) Then, “Hello my name is Audrey, I teach the gifted bitches at The Little Sisters Of No Mercy in Parramatta, and I’m pretty special because I write medieval plays.” A polite smattering of applause followed.
Shit…my turn!!!!
My mind raced and I had that look on my face like Jan Brady when she’s thinking about Marcia – her eyes go all cooky and her head jiggles with thought processes like – ok, don’t talk about Buzz. No one talks about their cat…If you say you like to write, they may ask what you’ve written…
The spotlight shone on me.
“Hello my name is xxxxx I’m a school learning support officer at xxx and have been for more years than I’d like to admit to…Well, I like my coffee shops, and there’s a really nice one close by called The Three Beans. I highly recommend it.”
They sort of looked at me strangely and then smiled…kind of. (Maybe they knew I had just avoided any kind of caring sharing – or they thought I was a dick.)
The nice looking bloke next to me then said “Hi, I’m Peter, I’m a teacher at (insert nice North Shore school) and I have LOTS of long service leave…but I can’t take any of it yet because I have an eighteen year old cat.” Lots of ahs and ohs and laughing commiseration – they really liked nice Peter and his nice old cat. (Bloody cat story pilferer!)
Anyhoo, the lunch was decent and I more than held my own in the conversations and discussions…well, apart from the meet and greet. Ha!
Thurs.
afrownlikemalice 