Guest Post By Jonah: The Interview

She was tall, and had a kind but firm voice. I had a little voice inside that was telling me, run, run for your life, but my feel felt heavy inside the blue and green sandals I was wearing, and I knew that she’d catch me very quickly if I tried to escape. She took my by the hand, then, and led me through a massive glass door to a room full of books. I was used to those, they’re called li-berrees

Now, for some time, I have been sitting on chairs. Mastered the art, you could say, so it was with some relief that the chair she showed me was small enough, and made of familiar smooth wood with metal legs.

I was sitting with my head bowed a little. This was an Important Day, but I wasn’t sure why, so I looked up at her through my fringe, instead. She spoke clearly, and asked my age. Ha! I knew that- it wasn’t even a trick question- she seemed happy with my clearly spoken answer. Four! I said, reinforcing it with all fingers (but no thumb) splayed. I knew I was right, and I swung my feet happily as she said yes, and wrote on her paper.

I won’t say too much about the rest. Some of her questions were lost on me- I’d be thinking about all the books on the shelf, or about the muffin I had in my lunchbox, and only hear part of what she said. She’d repeat the questions, though, or ask me something else. I played with my fingers in between the questions, and bounced my thighs on the little chair. I also scratched my ear.

I did get horribly stuck when she showed me some cards. There were pictures on the cards- a man standing in different poses and positions next to a, a, a, well, a banging thing. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of it. A blow-up. That was it! But she didn’t hear what I said. I got a little confused, then, and muddled up my answers. But, I’m a clever boy, so, when she said “cannon” I pretended that that’s what I’d been saying all along, and she seemed not to notice.

After a few more questions, she made me do a dreadful jigsaw which was badly cut and didn’t fit together nicely, and then asked me to draw a picture of myself.

I’m quite proud of my artistic abilities, so, despite having to use crayons, which defy any type of controlled drawing, I created a masterpiece of expressionist art. It was supposed to be OF me, but I chose to rather represent the INNER me, and gave ME a huge purple body and powerful feet at the end of the tallest legs I could fit onto the page. I’d forgotten to leave space for eyes and a mouth and so on, but the overall effect was impressive.

My mom and dad seemed happy with what I’d done, so I guess it can’t have been too bad. I overheard them afterwards saying how great it was that I’d been accepted into Grade R for next year. I was proud of myself too, but forgot about it straight away. I needed-no- deserved- that muffin in my lunchbox, and licked my lips in anticipation.