Qu’est-ce qui s’est pass’e hier? (what happened yesterday) (delay is being experienced on all sectors currently, please bear with us or not, we don’t really care)
Damn soppy song no? That’s besides the point.
Unpleasant surprise, pleasant surprise- which one do you wanna know first?
Right, the unpleasant one. I got rejected for another scholarship. I am Jack’s flaming bankruptcy. All sorts of couldawouldashouldas are washing over me right now but I know I shouldn’t crib. After all, getting admitted at my age is difficult so getting a scholarship really didn’t have more than an off-and-I-mean-really-really-off-chance.
And now for the pleasant surprises. So this morning I got all dolled up for my french exam. What? Excusez-moi, but how can you spell french without BCBG? For me, French is all about the BCBG. Apparently I looked like a schoolgirl because my friends told me so and because the teacher handling the slots asked me “Junior ou normale?”. Anyway, that’s besides the point. I was moderately prepared- I daresay this is one exam I don’t expect to score the highest marks in. I walked to the board to find out which room I’d be seated in, which room I’d have my interview in.
blah blah blah.. seminar room blah… individuel.. room something something.. OH MY GOD! IT CAN’T BE! I let out a happy laugh as soon as I saw his name. Topher- my first ever french teacher. He taught me when I was 17! I thought he’d left Singapore because he stopped teaching at my university the very next semester. Well maybe he did, but he was back in Singapore evidently. He was awesome back then- he was very tall, thin, cute and he had this unbelievably deep deep voice. I was his favourite student, obviously. He always picked me to write on the board- partly because I have pretty handwriting (he complemented me on it) and partly because I always got the questions right. Always. And I’ll always remember this one thing- he once offered to give me a ride and I had politely refused because my room was a hop, skip and half-a-jump away from my class. But I was so impressed that a teacher could offer a ride to a goofy nerd.
It was a little difficult for me to concentrate on the listening, reading and comprehension portions. Can you imagine? the professor who kinda-sorta fueled the whole language-mania thing in you? Dayumm.
Anyway, after the first three sections I had some time till I had my interview. I went and waited in the room. I heard his voice in the corridor and knew it was him. I could recognise that soft, deep bass voice anywhere. Okay, I realise this sounds quasi-romantic. It may well be. You see I am very very fond of teachers (the good ones) and in my first year, most of my professors were either obnoxious, indecipherable or both. And the Belgian teacher speaking in a foreign language somehow made complete sense. *cue romantic music* In the midst of all those difficult horrid engineering subjects that made me feel stupid, French class was a beacon of hope, a class where I would always have the right answer, where the other students would hate me for always having my hand up for every question.
Meanwhile, back in the room…
Deep booming voice: Bonjour!
Me: Uhh.. I don’t know if you still remember me, but you taught me in my first year in university.
Him: Vraiment? A “name of my university”?
Him: Your face is quite familiar but I’m sorry I can’t remember your name
Me: That’s fine.. *BIGASS SMILE*
Le sigh. I remembered Topher to be cuter. His hair’s turned grey and kinda shaggy. I guess people really look cuter when you look up to them eh?
As for the interview, it went very well. I was totally relaxed. For the first part- the personal interview- I waxed eloquent about the awesomeness that is moi, my life, past, present, future, etc etc. It was awesome. He asked me questions like why I wanted to leave the workforce, why an MBA, and I was able to give un-idiotic, articulate responses to them.
My second dialogue was with him pretending to be a restaurant manager and I, a disgruntled patron. he played his role with a lot of humility but the text demanded that I be pissy. So I said to him in my best annoyed french bitch accent, “Oh that’s all well and good but this is the second time this has happened and it’s such a disappointment!”. And then we both let out a few chuckles!
For the third part of the interview, I was required to present/talk for a few minutes on an issue, namely the crying need to ensure access to education for children everywhere. I had a lotta ideas, very impressive ones but of course I was fucking up the grammar big time with the “I know”s and “you know”s and the “I think”s (something you do even in English).. anyway.. so I finally did the conclusion. And then I blurted in french, “I know I made a LOT of mistakes”. But he reassured me saying it was a difficult topic and I did well. Wheeeeeeeee. And he opened the door for me and said bye.
So there you have it- even exams are turning into little mini-dramas now.