My First Job_myfirstjob

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My First Job

While I was waiting to enter university, I saw advertised in a local newspaper a

teaching post at a school in a suburb of London about ten miles from where I lived.Being very short money and wanting to do something useful, I applied, fearing as I did so, that without a degree and with no experience in teaching my chances of getting the job were slim.However, three days later a letter arrived, asking me to go to Croydon for an interview.It proved an awkward journey: a train to Croydon station;a ten-minute bus ride and then a walk of at least a quarter to feel nervous.The school was a red brick house with big windows, The front garden was a gravel square;four evergreen shrubs stood at each corner, where they struggled to survive the dust and fumes from a busy main from a busy main road.It was clearly the headmaster himself that opened the door.He was short and fat.He had a sandy-coloured moustache, a wrinkled forehead and hardly any hair.He looked at me with an air of surprised disapproval, as a colonel might look at a private whose bootlaces were undone.'Ah yes,' he grunted.'You'd better come inside.' The narrow, sunle hall smelled unpleasantly of stale cabbage;the walls were dirty with ink marks;it was all silent.His study, judging by the crumbs on the carpet, was also his dining-room.'You'd better sit down,' he said, and proceeded to ask me a number of

questions: what subjects I had taken in my General School Certificate;how old I was;what games I played;then fixing me suddenly with his bloodshot eyes, he asked me whether I thought games were a vital part of a boy's education.I mumbled something about not attaching too much importance to them.He grunted.I had said the wrong thing.The headmaster and I obviously had very little in common.The school, he said, consisted of one cla of twenty-four boys, ranging in age from seven to thirteen.I should have to teach all subjects except art, which he taught himself.Football and cricket were played in the Park, a mile away on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.The teaching set-up filled me with fear.I should have to divide the cla into three groups and teach them in turn at three different levels;and I was dismayed at the thought of teaching algebra and geometry-two subjects at which I had been completely incompetent at school.Worse perhaps was the idea of Saturday afternoon cricket;most of my friends would be enjoying leisure at that time.I said shyly, 'What would my salary be?' 'Twelve pounds a week plus lunch.' Before I could protest, he got to his feet.'Now', he said, 'you'd better meet my wife.She's the one who really runs this school.'

This was the last straw.I was very young: the prospect of working under a woman constituted the ultimate indignity.