The interview
My Primary School was situated in a big house. Half was divided up into three classrooms and a communal room, which was equipped with a piano for music and singing. The back yard was tarmacked and used as a playground and for PE. We weren’t allowed to run in that yard in case we fell over and grazed our knees. That was pure murder for me. I was a ‘lively’ boy whose normal mode was ‘full speed’. The rest of the house was off bounds. It was the Headmistresses’ home. Miss Gates was old, wiry and shrivelled as if she had been dried out in a mean wind. She was so ancient that we wondered how she could possibly still be alive yet alone maintaining such vigour. For vigour she had in plenty. She patrolled the corridors with fearsome strides and brought the edge of her ruler down on your knuckles with venom. Yet that mummified tyrant unbelievably actually had a mother who she cared for in that other part of the house.
None of us had been there. What was behind those doors remained unglimpsed. In our minds it was the den of the dragon.
Yet it was to these rooms that we were directed for our interviews. Billy went in first and I sat outside on my own staring at the door and wondering what was the other side.
Finally I was ushered in by the Headmistress in a stern, matter-of-fact manner. Inside the room there were three interviewers and a solitary chair in the centre of the room. They sat apart with clipboards, watching me. I was motioned to sit down on the chair. I was tiny and dressed up in my best uniform. I sat on the chair with feet dangling and nervously looked from one to the other. They asked me questions and I stammered my answers. I have no recollection of what was asked. All I remember is having to turn from one to the other. They were sitting so far apart, in corners of the room, that I could not see the others while I answered any one of them. I could feel their eyes on me though. I could see them scribbling notes.
Then it was over.
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Terrifying for a Child.
Terrified me. I still remember it vividly.
I bet you do, just as I remember the swooshing sound of the Bamboo Cane as my Mother brought it down on me, then the pain. Scars like these never heal Opher.
Terrible. What your mother did was inexcusable. But we have to accept it happened and move on. I’ve been very lucky. You’ve had it much harder but there is still a great future. Don’t let the past spoil it.
Yes you are right, there is nothing I can do about it now. What is left I have to make sure I make a difference do/see things I never have. I am so looking forward to my Balloon and SeaPlane trips, maybe even have a go on a “zip line” I fancy that.
That’s a hundred percent right! Go for it and live to the full. Don’t allow your mother to rob you of any more.