Monday, March 26, 2007

Over Exposé

So I gave that interview. You know the one. The whole process was more than a little disconcerting. You see, I’ve never had a camera pointed in my mug and asked questions before. I mean, I’m not sure which side is my “good” side. What do you think? The one with the gravy stain on the sleeve or the one with the shirt cuff held together by a post-it note?

She came into the room with her camera, boom microphone, and approximately 57 lbs. of batteries, lighting, and various crew members. I took my seat behind my rat’s nest of a desk while she smiled, adjusted her equipment, and, I can only assume, took air quality readings with some fancy doohickey.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” she offered with a smile.


“So, teaching eh?”


“When did you decide to become a teacher?”

“Oh let’s see—“

“Why teaching?”

“But… shouldn’t I answer that last question?”

“What are you’re long range goals with teaching?”

“Avoiding ulcers”

“Isn’t true that you’re bucking for a position in administration?”

“Really? Who says?”

“Yeah. I mean, everyone says they see you up here at all hours of the night.”

An exposé! I knew it.

I always see your car up here and when I’ve been up here late, working on projects, I’ve passed by your room and seen you dozing off at your desk.”

Poor thing, she’s confused my exhaustion with some sort of ambition; when in fact my exhaustion comes from just trying to keep my head above water.

“No, no, no… I’m just doing my job and it happens to take up a bit of my personal time.”

“Uh… you’re… uh… awfully committed to your job then. It’s like, uh… you practically live here.”

I can feel it. I’m about to get my 15 minutes of fame by being spotlighted in the school televised news. This is one of those moments where teacher gets that tiny bit of satisfaction, which will keep him running for years to come.

“Dang, and here I thought I had a story about ambition. Sorry to waste your time. Pack it up boys; we’re outta here.”

I’d never been so dejected. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? I can’t explain it, but now I want to get on that show more than ever. Perhaps, I’ll resort to some desperate cry for help. Maybe I can get caught up in some kind of skimming of the lost and found scandal or something.

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