fix up, look sharp

Application letter was successful. Tick.

Date of interview in bold letters on the calendar. Tick

Researched latest government buzz words and memorised all the gazillion things I've done in 20 years of teaching. Tick.

Crammed on all the wierd and wonderful possible questions from a student panel. Tick.

Primped and preened my presentation to a shine that could be seen from space. Tick.

Enough petrol in the car, sorted childcare, driven the route in rush hour to avoid any chance of panic. Tick.

Outfit and hair sorted. No. No. No.

Panic ensued.

I mean, come on. Having been out of the work place for over a year, that's what was bothering me before the big interview day. What I was going to look like?  I am, dear reader, hanging my head in shame. But I suppose it all stemmed from the fact that I've been slouching for four seasons in my garden cabin; just me and my cats. Whilst sticking to my 'don't leave the house without foundation or mascara', there have been a few days when it seemed I was reliving my uni days. If it doesn't need ironing, I'm wearing it.

And then comes the day where I've got to look professional again, look like I'm Shonda Rimes bad-ass. I was fully convinced that my fuller figure couldn't be contained within my work clothes from a year ago and I didn't have time to trek across London to my hair saviour. What was a #Post40 mama to do?

The solution? Found the dress that I felt the most 'me' in and plaited my hair into a style that would stay put, come wind, rain, hurricane - you know, the one where your head becomes a bobby-pin cushion.  Then spent my time getting my prep on rather than shopping my feet off.

As for the day? After an in-tray task to beat all in-tray tasks, a lesson that seemed to end in two minutes, a student panel where I admitted I wanted to be Gemma Cairn, an interview with two Heads where I smiled a lot (and answered questions obviously), a presentation in front of the other candidates and another interview with three Heads; I was exhausted. 

My drive home was full of me talking to myself about what I should have said or done differently - why is it the great stuff comes to you AFTER the interview??

It was a day that threw me in the deep end and I surprised myself by swimming with my head above water.

Well done me.

it don't come easy

I'm going to preface all of this by mentioning that in my life before teaching, I worked in HR so I understand the need for thorough, well-written application forms. And after 20 years in education I also acknowledge the necessity for comprehensive personal details allowing for back checks and references.

However...

Completing a teaching application form is akin to walking though treacle... in cement filled boots.

There's all the usual personal stuff, CV manna (or mire), and the dastardly request for hobbies and interests. But in addition to that there is the 'letter of application' - I'm not sure if every profession has these - the (no more than two sides) chance to shine like the diamond you are.  This is the part that every applicant needs to work on; this is where you get to strut your stuff in short sentences, emblazon your personality across the A4 page and show off your USP-X factor.

But the other bit - the legal document bit, which yes is incredibly important, does it really need to be completely handwritten? Every time? In this day and age? With such electronic systems as DBS in our lives?

I know people who have spent the months between January and May applying for over 15 teaching jobs; that's 15 times handwriting your Economics GCSE grade and mentioning how you like to scuba dive with dancing turtles every third Friday.

Is there not a way that there could be a teacher database with our personal info, education history, employment history, referees and all that jazz held centrally which we access via a password in order to amend as and when. Then prospective employees could access your application details when you apply for a job, a bit like the way recruitment agencies work. It should only be accessed when you - the applicant - submits some sort of code giving permission for your information to be seen.

This is the way employees can access my information via the DBS update service.

Yes, there are wrinkles and crinkles that need ironing out - that's the job of super-brainy IT whizzkids.

This would leave precious time available for applicants to get their letter of application groove on because no-one should be completely judged on exams they did in the last century, in a stuffy hall, at a desk scrawled with their name in a love heart next to Barry, the Head Boy's.