This title must surely define my day! The flu has worsened and I feel like I have been hit with a sledgehammer...body aches and pains and my head feels sore. Im really battling thru the day, trying to teach and prepare for a 6oth birthday bash that im having for my mother-in-law this weekend. I would get sick now!!! Very unsympathetic husband, no doubt being a doctor and seeing these symptoms all the time makes one jaded when it happens close to home. No bloody excuse! Im pissed off enough with his attitude not to be talking to him! This is one of the very disadvantages of being married to a medical man...from all the other doctor's wives ive learnt that they are all alike...very attentive to their patients but tetchy and irritable when their own families are sick. I hate that aspect of being married to one. But look at the bright side...now I get to blog for all i like! No moans about me sitting on the computer till late. Back to my story...
Fate deals you strange hands at the most unexpected of moments. Here I am, sitting in the excess pool and now being offered a post at this exclusive boy's school, one that I was not unfamiliar with. At school, i had been a prolific debater and had used to enter speech contests and any competition involving poetry or writing. One such speech contest had been held at Glenwood High School when I was just 16 and in Grade 10. I remember the evening clearly. I had walked through the school on the way to the school hall, bug-eyed at what I was beholding. The beautiful gardens and facilities of the school compared to the less-than-modest one that i was coming from, had me looking on in wonder. When my turn had come, I had recited and enacted a poem that I had prepared before-hand. There were other kids there from various White schools in the vicinity and I was up against some stiff opposition. Imagine my shock when my name was called out...the winner of this category. My teacher had beamed from ear to ear. His name was Anand Bodasingh, teacher of English at my school but one day to become an official in the DOE, at the very time when I was going through my ordeal at this very institution. At school i had been lauded and applauded for having won this competition against some of the top White schools in the Durban area. How extraordinary that 16 years later, I was being offered the opportunity to teach at this very school that I had won the competition at when I was just 16 years old. Talk about the connectivity of life!
The other school being offered to me was Burnwood Secondary School, one that was far away from where I lived. The option was clear...Glenwood High it was to be. I was to report to the Headmaster of the school the next day for an interview- a blistering hot summer's day in February 2000. I dressed carefully, cultivating a professional image in a black two-piece outfit that was not too revealing for a boy's school but sleeveless and cool enough to be comfortable. Driving to the school through the tree-lined Nicolson Road was a pleasure, lifting my spirits immediately as i contemplated doing this drive every morning. Suddenly things seemed to be looking up. I remember my first encounter with the Headmaster very clearly. Trevor Kershaw was immaculately dressed, dark well tailored suit, shiny black shoes and a very fashionable yet functional watch, the first things that I noticed about him. He had presence, that essential something that commands instant respect when in his company. How deceptive first impressions can be. [More to follow...]
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