The Interview

I splashed the cold water on my face and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I wanted to look as fresh as I could for the interview. 

It was my first formal interview and I was so  nervous about it that I couldn't sleep the night before. I was shaking in my boots when I reached the place of interview and my name was called. My mother whispered in my ear, "Don't worry. I know you've already got in. Just be yourself."

My father showed me a thumbs up smile. 

I give them a feeble smile and walk inside where my two interviewers wait, wait to intimidate their interviewee. With a polite "Good morning" and two cold handshakes, I sit down on the single seater couch laid out for me. In front of me, the interviewers sit on two similar couches and there is a coffee table between us. On it, I see a stack of files. 

The woman looks middle-aged, about thirty-five. She has big brown glasses and short hair. Her eyebrows are slanted inwards, making her look almost evil. Her hawk like nose and the way her teeth stick out when she smiles adds to this. She is about five-three and slender. 

The man is tall. He doesn't look Indian. Probably British. He wears a pink shirt and a white trouser. His blonde hair, which has a little grey in it, is swept aside by the neat strokes of a hairbrush to expose his forehead to the fullest. He sinks down into the couch and his long legs stretch out under the coffee table. He supports his face with his arm, his elbow being on the armrest of the couch and his thumb and index finger near his face. It makes his face look a little deformed, and I bit my lip so that I don't laugh.

The two interviewers stare at me. Moments later, the man speaks: Why are you here?

I think, didn't you invite me?

But I say, "Well, I have always wanted to study in an IB school and since yours is one of the best IB schools in India, I was hoping that I could get in."

"Why not ICSE? Why only IB?"

"Indian systems like the ICSE, CBSE and HSC systems have a lot of rot- memorizing involved and I don't think I want to spend another two years of my life doing that. I would rather learn the real stuff in IB."

The woman smiled. I wondered why. Then, "Well, how far have you been able to learn something till now?" She stressed on the 'learn'. I think now it must have been sarcastic.

"I would like to learn. Its not something that I have been able to do at my present school because, honestly, the teachers we have are not very good. I think my academic record shows…"

The man interrupted me, "Yes. It does show a lot." I see him rub his eyes. Maybe I'm making him sleep.

Ok. I know I don't have a very good academic record but there was no reason for him to be so rude.

The woman continues. "IB is very learning oriented. How much is the teacher's role in this? Do you think you'll be able to handle it?" She snickers. 

"Of course! I will choose to study the subjects that I like and I don't think that it will be a problem then."

The two of them looked at each other and smiled. They turned back to look at me almost simultaneously. It looked like a scene in one of those well-coordinated movies.

And they went on and on for what seemed like an hour but was in fact, only twelve minutes. They asked me about my hobbies, the sports I play, how I manage my time, how I organize my study, how much time I spend on Facebook and my cell phone, how I spend time with my family, etc, etc. 

I answered every question truthfully. Except for the one when they asked me if I have ever cheated in a school exam. I lied, saying that I don't know how to cheat and am scared of what will happen if the invigilator catches me. M friend Sahana was my inspiration for this. 

At the end of it, the lady says, "I am still not very convinced…why should we take you?"

The peered at me through their scrutinizing eyes and raised eyebrows for what seemed like a long intimidating minute before I could find the courage to answer.

" Well…I uh…think that I'm very..uh…confident. I know for sure that I can do much better if I am accepted into your school. I am very sure of myself and I know that I can make your school proud if you take me in. I am very ambitious and I dared to dream that I could be in this school and I'm going to do everything I can to accomplish it."

The pink-shirt giggled at this. Probably because the school motto was "Dare to dream…learn to excel." 

He stood up, which was a cue for both the woman and me to stand up too. Another cold handshake from the man and a surprisingly warm one from the woman and a "it was nice meeting you" from the man and a "good luck" from the woman later,  and I was out in the hall again. 

Finally able to breathe, I breathed out a sigh of regret. My naive days in middle school when I had never touched my books and scored average marks were showing their results. 

My parents asked me about the interview, but I didn't say a word. I was too scared that they would also think what I thought would happen: that I would not be accepted. So, I let then hope. 

I came home thinking of all the things that I could have said. Its funny, isn't it? The things that come to you after you have finished a discussion with someone?

Now, I live in the hope that something, anything will get me through. And I sit and wait for the letter.