I just got in from an interview with a principal at a high school down the street--a job I have been coveting since I saw the listing last Monday--that would be teaching American Lit to juniors at one of four "high-achieving" high schools in Clark County. ("High-achieving," according to NCLB, just means that they do a certain amount better than their mandated AYP. Go ask your child's teacher. They'll explain what all the acronyms mean. They'll probably find a few choice epithets to share with you, too.)
Anyway, my interview lasted about an hour, and a couple of times I thought we were about to wrap it up, but then we kept talking about more stuff. So I should know by Friday whether or not I got the job; maybe sooner than that if I get put on the top of the list. After my interview I went to the gym and now have my brain is all mushy from the interview adrenaline and the exercise endorphins and the the not having had dinner yet. (If you were wondering why my prose did not seem as tight as usual, that should help explain some things. Haven't you ever re-read that college essay you wrote at 3 a.m. the day it was due, hopped up on a pot and a half of coffee and a semester of worrying about it? And after you got it back and re-read it, you were either amazed at your genius or startled by the way your ideas went in a hundred different directions at once, like water spilling across a kitchen table? Apparently job anxiety and weightlifting do pretty much the same thing.)
Besides that, today is just a Tuesday. I got an email today saying that my sister will be coming out next week, so there is something to look forward to. That and the Decemberists (which none of you except for her really cares about, anyway, and she will be here for it.)
I should probably go eat something now.