Chapter 198
Stuffed Snowy Owl
‘I have been a dedicated teacher at this school for six years. I have been a dedicated teacher at this school for six years . . .’ I repeat my mantra to myself as I wait outside Dr Therone’s office.
I close my eyes to visualise myself after I’ve got the job.
This is another @DrLabby interview tip. She said, ‘You will make it happen if you see it happening’.
I think of Dad’s face when I tell him I’m officially Head of Science for Clapham Girls.
Even though it’s not quite the same as, ‘Hey, Dad, I’m a brain surgeon,’ I still think I will get a reaction from him, even if it’s just a twitch of his mouth to show that he’s (a little) proud.
Mr Rawlinson’s interview is currently happening on the other side of the door, and from what I can hear, he’s doing terribly.
Goody. Dr Therone, who sounds like she is on her last tether, has asked him three times what he would bring to the role.
‘No, Mr Rawlinson, what would you bring to the role of Head of Science?’ Goodness knows what his answer was before.
I don’t know what she expected from this interview – the man has clearly lost his marbles.
Even Gramps could do a better job than him.
‘Mr Rawlinson, thank you for your time,’ Dr Therone shouts.
‘Yes, the interview has ended. Yes, please leave through that only door.’ I sit up straight in the chair, ready for the door to open.
‘I will be announcing the results next week, Mr Rawlinson. Next week. Yes.’ Mr Rawlinson comes hobbling out.
He has a black smudge on the top of his bald head, and his glasses are on a wonk.
It takes him a second to see me and then a second more to compute who I am.
‘Good luck, Alice,’ he says and mumbles to himself as he shuffles off. Good God, get that man a blanket.
Dr Therone shouts my (correct) name from her office.
I get up and dust off my pencil skirt, the one saved for major professional occasions and funerals.
I think of @DrLabby’s tips about showing confidence in meetings.
She said that you should walk in slowly to portray that you’re in control of yourself.
So that’s what I do, taking each step deliberately.
‘In your own time,’ Dr Therone says. Her white leather chair creaks as she adjusts herself in it.
Dr Therone’s office is not a typical headmistress’s office.
When she got the job, she insisted on having it redecorated.
There is a moss green statement wall, and the rest of the walls are a mute grey.
There is a floor-length mirror and a collection of certificates, including her PhD certificate from King’s College in War Studies.
I’m assuming this is where she learnt how to be a tyrant.
On her desk is a vase full of fresh lilies and a taxidermy snowy owl who is staring at me.
My chair is significantly lower than Dr Therone’s chair.
I assume she does this on purpose as some sort of power play.
I won’t let this trick me though. @DrLabby advised me to ‘Stay tall and steady’, so I stretch my spine as much as possible, making all my back muscles complain.
I consciously lock eyes with Dr Therone, inspecting her eye colour like @DrLabby said to do.
I had always thought Dr Therone’s eyes were dark brown, but on closer inspection, it seems that they’re almost black – like the pupils of her stuffed owl.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Sorry,’ I look away. Dr Therone sighs heavily, making it clear she doesn’t want to be here. She takes hold of a biro and roughly scribbles circles onto a blank piece of lined paper until the ink starts coming out. She sighs again.
‘Amy Elman, why should you be the Head of Science at Clapham Girls?’ She has her pen ready to write down my answer. I sit up. I’ve got this.
‘I have been a dedicated teacher at this school for six years now, and—’
‘Six years?’ Dr Therone cuts in. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes, I started in September 2018.’ I wait for her to respond to this, but she’s too occupied scribbling notes.
I continue. ‘Since I started teaching physics here, there has been a 10 per cent rise of students taking it at A level. And the grades for A Levels have increased year on year. Last year, Yvonne Thompson got into Cambridge University. She’s the first pupil ever in this school to get accepted into Cambridge for sci—’
‘Her parents were both scientists,’ Dr Therone cuts in again.
I stumble. ‘S-still, um, she got almost 100 per cent in her exam.’
‘As I said, her parents were scientists.’
I readjust myself in the chair. It takes a lot more effort to be ‘tall and steady’ than I had anticipated. I continue, ‘I have a passionate, youthful approach to science that appeals to the girls, and being so young—’ Dr Therone points her pen in my face, making me stop in my tracks.
‘How old are you?’
‘Erm, 29.’
‘Not that young,’ she says, smirking.
‘Young, considering the role, and doesn’t that say a lot about my dedication?’
‘So, you’re saying . . .’ she says, tapping her pen on her chin. ‘You may be a little inexperienced for such a responsibility?’
‘No, I’m saying I have a youthful approach to science that appeals to the girls.’
She glances at her watch. ‘Right, time is running out.’ I spot the clock behind her head. It’s only been five minutes.
‘I thought these were 20-minute interviews?’
‘So, Miss Elman, how would you want to see the science department developing in the next five years?’ I pause to try to remember what I wrote down on my interview prep document. After a split second, Dr Therone raises her eyebrows. ‘Do you not know?’ she asks.
I clear my throat and smile.
‘All science comes down to is having the courage to ask questions and the confidence to work those questions out. For some reason, many girls lose that confidence during their school days, and I want to do my best to stop this. When I hear our pupils say that they don’t like science, it confuses me because there is something for everyone, be that aerospace in physics, nutrition in chemistry, or .
. . women’s health in biology. It’s our job as teachers to show this to the pupils and to feed whatever hint of passion they have.
If, in the next five years, there is an increase in our girls who have gone on to have a career in science, because we have given them the encouragement, the tools and the confidence during their most curious years, then that will be the kind of department I would be proud to be leading . . .’
‘Time’s up,’ Dr Therone says as if she hasn’t listened to a single thing I just said. I frown at the clock.
‘But there’s 10 minutes left,’ I protest. She puts out her hand for me to shake, and I reluctantly do.
‘We will be announcing the new head of the department next week. Thank you, Miss Elman.’ She gestures towards the door. I open my mouth, but she shouts over me before I can say a word. ‘Thank you, Miss Elman.’
I leave the office in a blur. What just happened? One minute, I’m giving the best answer of my life, and the next, I’m being shown the door. It doesn’t add up. I see Josh sitting in a chair outside, waiting for his interview.
‘All okay?’ he asks, obviously reading the dazed look on my face.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. Seeing that I’m on the verge of tears, Josh stands up and hugs me, which makes me feel even more emotional.
‘I’m sure it went fine, Lab Rat,’ he says into my hair. I pull away from him and sniff away a tear.
‘Don’t worry, please. Concentrate on your interview.
’ I flatten a crease on his shirt. He could have at least ironed it, especially now that he may be our only hope.
Dr Therone calls out his name from her desk.
I do one last pat-down of his shirt and wish him luck.
He strolls into the office and says Dr Therone’s name like she’s an old friend.
As the door shuts, I hear Dr Therone offer tea or coffee.
What on earth, I never got offered tea or coffee.