The Waking Dread…


A pulse of excitement ran through me yesterday as I looked at my phone and saw that an email had arrived in my inbox.

RE: English Position, it promised. My heart raced as I saw the thing that I wanted for the future offer itself to me; with the slight obstacle of an interview.

As another teacher was talking to me, I was nodding my head as if I was an active participant in her conversation. As she continued, my mind struggled to focus in the same manner that my fingers were struggling to open the attachment.

Disappointment fell on me. It was one dreaded moment of my new reality that I never wished to meet.

My invitation to interview was for the school that I am currently doing supply at. I had popped the letter of application in a number of weeks previously and had not heard anything since. I thought I was safe. My initial excitement had been for one of the schools in Spain that I had applied to, but I am obviously an old log, trapped in a lumberjack’s log-jam whilst slowly rotting away with the other old logs.

So there I was being invited to interview at a place that I have been teaching at for almost six months. I was asked to bring my passport, police checks, and qualifications. I was asked to be there at 8.30, prompt. I was told that I would be teaching a sample thirty minute lesson and would be observed. I don’t quite know how many Fs their are in HOOK, but I felt that I had been landed.

This morning, I woke at 4am and stayed awake. My wife was not speaking to me for something that I inadvertently said before we went to bed. When I got out of bed, I knew that this was my last chance to be abnormal.


Dread is sitting beside me as I write.

It’s got a dark smirk of victory wiped across its face.

“Welcome back, boy.”



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