Tag 2

After some Kaffee und einen Apfel I found my way across the western suburbs to my first interview.

Leaving the S Bahn at Botanischer Garten I rushed(already running a little late) through pretty and sleepy residential allees, the delicately crafted windows of the art nouveau apartment blocks  squinting as the morning sun woke up their reflections and brightened their shadowy faces.

The interview was for a job as a Kindergarten teacher. It was – as I had found out just as I was leaving – to be in German. I had consequently spent the S Bahn journey reading my dictionary, but it was a rather quick journey so I only got as far as abfurhmittel (laxative) and I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to this latest piece  of vocabulary.

The Kindergarten was a simple one storey building which sat among a green, tree scattered play ground. On this beautifully frosty morning the wooden train, nestled between towering oaks, looked as if it could have rolled in from the snaking railway which the playground backed on to. And I was rather tempted to climb into the carriage and wish for Na?rnia.

I was welcomed by a prim but smiley and unintimidating lady who led me to the office. After a bit of stunted German they kindly agreed to do the interview in English. Phew, no need for laxative chat, at least not in German. At first they asked about my experience with children. I enthusiastically glorified babysitting and spoke passionately about the intriguing, fascinating and touching existence of infants.

They then took me to meet the infants. This scared the shit out of me as the aforesaid fascination etc.. is largely theoretical, and in truth I often have no clue what to do with kleine kinder.

The school separates its little ones into age groups. Mice,  bunnies, dinosaurs and dragons. ( I think there is another stage of fantastical or rodent branded childhood – or perhaps both combined, Jigglypuffs? – but I have forgotten it). I wondered if the children went through a process of mascuclation (opposite of emasculation?) in turning from a mouse to a bunny to a dinosaur to a dragon. I also hoped my fear of personified animals was not going to be an issue.

So I followed Frau Kindergarten to our first stop, die mause. She opened the door and ushered me into a bright open room decorated with charming scribbles and minuscule furniture which both charmed and terrified me. And there were die mause. Seated around kleines table in kleines chairs they looked like a scene from a huggies summit. As I uttered an apologetic ‘Hallo!’ – mit awkward grin – I was met with a mixture of utter disinterest and confused disdain. I turned to my interviewer to find her and the class teacher beaming at me expectantly. Feeling like the fraud the kids obviously saw me as I edged towards them, crouching like a morris dancer to match their shin level faces.

‘Hallo!’ I tried again.

Open mouthed silence.

‘I am Eleanor’ . Pronounced in some kind of Caribbean accent.

‘What is your name?’  I ask, looking round for some sympathetic little mouse. Then realising the confusingness of this undirected question, I point to the nearest child – a little blonde boy in a green sweater.

‘What is your name?’  I repeat, almost aggresively. Then, without pausing to hope for an answer, I continue –

‘Your jumper – green! Me – I love green!Mmm. Yes green – is good for me – you too?’ All of this pronounced in some horrible accentual love child of eastern European and Indian. He looks at me like the crazy person I am, then quickly turns back to his plastic pieces of colour. Feeling the eyes of the other giants in the room on me, I turn to green jumpers neighbour – a curly haired girl.

‘Hallo!’

She giggles. Definitely an improvement.

‘You curly. I curly.’ I point to our respective manes.

She giggles.

‘Hair!’ I shout, as if just discovering the secret to eternal life.

She stops giggling. Her face crumples and I watch on in horror as she gets ready to wail. But, by some mad touch of god, she does not. Deciding i’m worth neither her tears not attention she turns back to her fun puzzle.

Frau senses it is time to go and I am led, gratefully,  out of the mice cage.

I make pointless and bizarre comments about the building as I follow her, so as not to discuss my (lack of) interaction with my potential class.

‘This is such a nice building!’ It is not – we are walking through a very low ceilinged windowless corridor.

‘Wow. Children make such brilliant artists don’t they!’ http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=irule Nuff said.

She shows me the toilets.

‘Wow! Koool. Very important!’ What, toilets? Fair point, but do I need to tell her?

As her hand goes for the door to the bunnies my stomach lurches and I see 101 rather than flopsy looming over me.

Here goes.

‘HALLO!’ Oh god.

‘I AM ELEANOR!’ Somehow my voice has got still louder and has taken on a rather nasty shrillness.

I get as far as ‘WHAT IS -‘  before a little boy runs off screaming to hide behind a bean bag.

I seek comfort in a child who has managed to improve upon his centimetres by scaling a pile of cushions.

‘You’re a mountaineer!’ I say, quite calmly and interestedly really. But he obviously has no idea what I’m talking about.

So I try and mime it. I look like a monkey playing drums.

He looks shocked and nearly falls off his peak and I quickly retreat out of the danger zone, still repeating ‘Mountain’ in a new accent every time – as if this may help the poor boys comprehension.

The rest of the ordeal continues much the same.

I also meet the cook. She is ladelling Jamie Oliver‘s worst nightmare onto some hospital trolleys.

‘This is our cook.’ Frau explains helpfully.

‘Hallo!’ (This seems to have become something of a nervous tick.)

Silence.

‘Are you good?’

She looks at me as if I have just spat in her broth,then turns back to churn it.

Frau steps in.

‘The children are very  excited by the cook.’ Oh..

‘Especially on Thursday when they must spend some time here in the kitchen with her. We always hear many noises and shriekings!’ Well squeakings…

Anyway. Quick jump to the end. Frau said (almost genuinely!?) that she would love to give me the job. But that it is a problem that I don’t speak German. (After today’s performance I felt that this was the least of my worries!)

She explained that I would need to communicate with the parents and other staff in German. I said I understood completely, getting ready to leave. Then she said she wanted to offer me a trial.

So, it seems I shall return to the farmyard next week. Lord have mercy.

I had another interview and spent some time writing in a wonderfully smokey gay bar but now it is late and this city owes me some sleep.

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