Deputy Head interview questions

These are a bunch of questions I've been asked at interviews for Deputy Head jobs at village primary schools.
I'm publishing these from my black book of inset and professional development notes as a sort of public service. I hope that anyone else in my position will get some use out of them.
As for the normal readers, normal service will be resumed shortly.

"How has your teaching been affected by the renewed frameworks for Literacy and numeracy?"

"Describe a situation when you have raised standards, How did you do this?"

"Describe a situation where you have introduced and led an initiative to staff. How did you do this?"

"Tell us about your strengths."

"Tell us about your weaknesses."

"Describe a whole school situation you have helped to lead."

"What do you do when a teacher disagrees with your leadership?"

"Why did you apply for this post?"

"You spent five years in New York (this could easily translate to any large chunk of time in your CV), What did you learn from that time?"

"Why do you want to be a Deputy Head?"

"What will you bring to this post?"

"Tell us about an achievement that you are most proud of."

"How do you feel about parents?"

"Why do we assess children's learning?"

"What are your views regarding the VLE (Virtual Learning Environment)?

"Which part of the 'Every Child Matters' agenda do you think is most important?"

"Can you explain how you have used ICT in lessons?"

"What are the strengths of the topic approach?"

"How would you assess learning in a topic based environment?"

"What do you do if a parent starts shouting at you?"

"What do you do if you profoundly disagree with the Head?"

"How do you use assessment?"

"In your opinion, what is the point of the KS2 SATs in their present form?"

"Give an example of how you have made a difference to a child with special educational needs and how did this impact on the human rights of the other children in the class?"

"How would you support well being for support staff?"

"What do you see as the role of the Deputy Head in a small school?"

"How would you facilitate communications between the Head and staff?"

I spent some time online seeking out such questions and trying to formulate some answers. I found very little that was useful.

If you get an interview for a DH position be prepared to do a lot of homework and preperation, a great presentation, dress right up, play it like it's your own FA Cup Final and hit on the Governors, they will play a large role in your fate. 

I hope this will help somebody. The questions in italics were the ones that I have actually been asked, the rest are ones that I created based on advice and experience.

I've left out my responses because, well, I wasn't that successful, and I don't have all night!

Interview.

Apparently I waffled on a bit and didn't get straight to the point (BUT THAT"S MY CHARM!!!)

I'm not too worried, this was the last one this year so in a way it's nice to be able to relax a bit and not spend anymore evenings creating bizarre presentations and thinking of answers to every conceivable question that could conceivably be asked.

If truth be told I really only applied for this one because I was so spun out about not getting the last one.

There's footy on the telly tonight (can they both lose please?) Frau Random Doubt and The Wee Hen are both just fine, the sun is out and the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

Why Worry?

In a truly Mondale obsessive moment I should point out that I was beaten to the job by a young(ish) man with a very familiar surname. Makes my liberal credentials all tingly!

Interview

So the self indulgent quest for a promotion continues.

This time, instead of reading runes and drinking tea backwards for three days and nights prior to the interview I thought I'd just shout it out and let the blogworld know. The blogworld can than wish me luck and good fortune on Wednesday as I attempt (for the last time this academic year) to achieve a long held ambition.

As well as letting the blogworld know I'm also rather keen to get in there and do really well so that they have little choice but to offer me what seems to be a fascinating position.

The image?

Lovely isn't it?

It popped up when I google imaged 'Deputy Head'!

Cup Final Day!

Yeah!
It's the holiest day of the year!
This picture (from 1987, the only Cup Final that I have actually attended) sums it all up.
Have a good'un!

Hometown and Sincity Mercury

That's the name of our local rag.

This week I got a letter printed on the letters page!

It was a slightly tipsy rant about unruly dog owners, sadly I am unable to find the letter either online or on my computer (which is really, really wierd) and I'm not going to rewrite it. Also sadly, the letter did little good as this week's paper headlines the fact that the path in question has been closed. You can read the article (And wonder why I even bother with the pretence of geographical anonymity) right here.

Also, I'm gunning for Cardiff in this weekend's FA Cup final (holiest day of the year!!)
I've always been an admirer of most things Welsh and simply cannot abide Portsmouth.

Welsh things I like.

David Lloyd George

Gavin and Stacey (half welsh I know)

Super Furry Animals

Ewan Roberts

Catatonia

The Gower

Glenys Kinnock

The amazing Welsh swearing friend of a friend I spent an amusing weekend with a couple of years ago.

Nye Bevan.

I dunno, there's lots to like about the place and good luck to them.

The weather. Oh, the weather.

Some people have been saying things about the English.

Fair enough.

I'd just like to share a spot of evidence that I may very well have reassimilated.

We have recently been enjoying some absolutely splendid weather, "Shirtsleeves weather". Temperatures in the high 20's centigrade (70's, almost 80's Fahrenheit), clear blue skies, calm air, simply wonderful.

Today it clouded over and tomorrow threatens a shower or two.

I heard myself say to someone at work "I'll be quite glad to get a spot of rain again".

I'm back.

The Johnson Treatment

So, I didn't get the job, the dream job, the job I really wanted.

So I made some enquiries.

It's brilliant, this next level of career, you can call people up and ask them stuff and they respect you enough (or pretend to?) to tell you stuff. I respect her enough to believe her, my unnamed source at the highest levels of the 'job I almost got'.

OK, I buggered up a deeply technical question about computers. OK, I'll work on that.

It was the other gossip that was great.

They were deeply upset that I didn't get the job because I had been the clear favourite. The source had detailed inside knowledge that there had been lengthy wranglings about ignoring some of the practical aspects of the interview (i.e that question and my ropey answer) and hiring me anyway.

A couple of the Governors (the two who had asked me the question ) were not impressed , OK, live with that.

Everyone else had been very impressed. Sheeeeet.

I need to sell myself a bit more in person. A bit less Gordon, a bit more Tony. My response? This is a very serious job, not a time for soundbites.

But I am the clunking fist of primary education!

There's an identical job going only two miles down the road, give them a call!

I'm meeting them on Monday.

I just love the networking and intriuge!

Yesterday I was so upset, then I understood, Frau Random Doubt and The Wee hen were both OK and laughing and giggling, my day will come.

Career travails in Democratic electoral defeats.

So, I went for another interview.

This job was amazing, the school was great, the teachers seemed nice, the job was big but I felt good about doing it.

And, oh, oh, oh.

I almost, nearly, nearly, almost.

But not quite.

Got the amazing, beautiful, challenging, well paid job that would have seen me not bothering the vacancies website for the next four years.

Damn!

And double damn because I could have, should have got this job.

I later found out that the difference between me and the successful candidate (nice guy, we got on well, good luck to him), the only difference was the answer to one question.

A day full of questions and it comes down to ONE question.

Sheeeeeeet.

If my last interview was a  Nixon McGovern this one was definately a Bush Gore.

Hey, I just want to reassure you, I will not be growing a beard.

(Or in English, The last interview was John Major in 1997, this one was Neil Kinnock in 1992)

In any language, this one hurt.

MAY!

Just crazy busy and my watch has gone French on me, instead of reading TUES 6 it reads MAR 6.

Will try and blog more after Thursday when the stars tell me that things should change, or at least get less hectic, which will in itself be a change I s'pose.

Crumbs!

I just returned from the Hometown beer festival and googled 'Boris Johnson' and got this.

What?

This has to mean the complete collapse of centre left politics in Britain.

I have the same relationship with Boris as I have with the Church of England. My heart says
"of course!" my head says "don't drunk blog because you talk shit, so sure as hell don't ever drunk vote".

C-C-Call the C-C-Cops!!!!

Hometown may sound like a picturesque haven of tranquility in the eastern shires, but I should tell you, it has it's crazy sketchy wild moments.

Take yesterday.

I was home in the afternoon as I'd had a meeting in the Bigcity in the morning and it's a long , long way back to school. My head had kindly agreed that it would just be easier if I did some paperwork at home.

So I park the car and I'm walking down our street in the middle of the day. There's a bloke looking at houses and he's looking shifty. Then he goes around the side of Big Dave's house and climbs into his garden!

My overtired midday brain sorts this one out in a heartbeat. 'He's a blagger and he's casing some gaff and he's going to nick some swag and get it to his fence and sell it to the kids and someone will get hurt and all because I never called the filth!'

So, er, that's what I did. I went indoors , peered through an upstairs window and called the cops! Not even the non-emergency community number but the real deal, 999 GETHERENOW!!!!! number.

And they came.

And in the 5 minutes that it took for them to screech into our street (although I felt they screeched appropriately, not too fast but with due haste and some caution) the blagger reemerged from behind Big Dave's house, went to his car, wrote a note, popped it through Big Dave's front letterbox. Then the evil slag of crime got into his car and drove away with all due respect for the Highway code.

Yes, that's right. Raffles had left a note in Big Dave's letterbox. The bastard! Leaving a cheeky fucking calling card! It probably said something like...
..."You've been turned over by the evil bastard of crime, light fingered Tony! I hope you'll never sleep easy in your violated home again! Suckers! catch me if you can!!!"

Or...

..."Alright Big Dave, I popped round at lunchtime but you were out. I just hope no overimaginative, paranoid, police state, nosey parker fucking neighbour with nothing else to do calls the cops just because I'm a bit scruffy. Love Tony".

Gulp.

So then the cops arrived. They were fascinated by the whole scene and quickly made the neighbourhood safe again (Thank God!). The best bit was when they screeched up. My slightly bonkers neighbour who yells alot came rushing out of her house and yelled at the cops "WHAT IS IT? I DINDOIT!" To which the policemen responded with a smile and a laugh "It's alright Lou, we're not here for you. Not this time! Ha!"
Then the three of them all stood about and had a bit of a chat and a laugh at me.

So the cops asked a few questions and cleared off.

And I had that sinking feeling that some poor sod in a black VW was now getting pulled over and given the third degree for the crime of popping round to see his old mate Big dave in the middle of the day.

Later on I took the trouble to pop round to Big Dave's house and tell them what had happened.

You know the rest.

It had been a friend.

He was a bit scruffy.

He was not the evil slag of crimeland.

I apologised but Big Dave and his wife were really pleased that "people in this great street look out for each other. It makes me proud to live here." They are possibly the nicest people in the world right now.

I'm not allowed to use the phone without asking Frau Random Doubt.

Our street and the future of humankind.

Our street taken early morning during a recent bizarre spring blizzard.

I love our street. So does my wife. For that matter, so does the wee Hen, in so much that he can't actually talk yet but does enjoy exploring it with his mommy or daddy or auntie or uncle who love around the corner.

There are a number of very good reasons to love our street. Let me list the ways.

Firstly, it's about a five minute walk to the centre of Hometown. the centre of Hometown contains a bakers, chipshops, pubs, a Woolies, some banks, quite a few historic buildings, an ancient abbey and lots of proper Norfolk folk who do stuff like wait for buses and stand about gossiping. You always bump into someone you know and it's often a hive of activity and conversation.

Secondly, and this is absolutely crucial, Our street is a dead end. That means we have no through traffic. No hustle and grind of quickly moving internal combustion engines.

Thirdly, there's a bunch of kids aged between six and nine who take complete advantage of the dead end/lack of through traffic situation and spend every possible moment outside in the street whizzing about on bikes, skateboards, scooters and generally running about, messing about, playing games, having arguments, making up, kicking balls about , singing stupid songs and living the kind of life many kids can only dream of. They also whizz about at the back of our house (connected to our street by some passages and an alleyway) and create a wonderful atmosphere of kid related mayhem.Then their mums call them in for their tea and they all go running home, sometimes leaving bikes and toys in the middle of the street only to reappear to collect them before they are allowed to eat.

Fourthly, the people are nice, some are a bit mental, one can only communicate with her son by yelling at him, one dresses as a mediaeval foot soldier in reenactments of the Wars of the Roses (he has a real longbow!) but on the whole they are an agreeable bunch and we have even got a bit drunk with some of them at Christmas time.

So that's it. I just wanted you to know that our little house is a happy place, in no small part because of the groovy little street it's on where the kids run about making noise and the neighbours are OK.

Snuffle....

How's this for a bit of Trade Union zeitgeist?
I wonder how many people about to go on strike then get a raging cold which pins them down to their sofa and laptop and prevents them from storming the Winter Palace?

That's right. Full on Manmonia.

The day before the strike.

(although to be honest we had negotiated a 'no supply teachers-no picket line so there would have been no actual presence at the school gate anyway, Any school with a picket line out front must have had a near fatal communication breakdown between Head and the teachers, but hey, that's not the point!)

Book learning #41

Never Again. Britain 1945-51 by Peter Hennessy.

Ah, the gentle aroma of Clement Atlee's pipe permeates every page of this engaging history of the immediate postwar period.
The account of Britain's struggle for survival , economic, diplomatic and imperial makes you realise how close the country came to collapse during those years and puts a perspective on the Labour landslide election of 1945 (such a victory but such a massive job to do!)
It's jammed with details and anecdotes about the problems and solutions of the period and it should be pointed out that the Sterling crisis left me cold (despite placing the current credit crunch in perspective- there were no homes to mortgage in 1945, thanks to the Luftwaffe!)
I loved the stuff about India, it would have bankrupted Britain to keep it on and the job was to persuade the still Imperial minded public that India should gain independence without letting it slip the real reasons why. Indeed, the book is full of the arguments, economic and political about the deeds of the Atlee government.
The attempts to join a fledgling European Economic grouping which was stymied by the French and Germans who didn't want the Brits involved, spoiling their ideas.
The situation over the first West Indian immigrants aboard the SS Empire Windrush "Don't worry, they'll never last the English winter" said one Cabinet minister!
The first scirmishes of a new Cold War, negotiations with America over the reconstruction of Europe. You get the impression alot of the freeflowing goodwill of WW2 was due to the bonhomie of the Roosevelt-Churchill friendship, there's a great bit when Truman gets his hands on the chequebook and the money dries up almost on the spot causing the British to hastily renegotiate a series of loans at decidely unlendleasy rates!
And of course, the National Health Service.
Nye Bevan's proudest achievement, the jewel in the crown and still standing today. The marvel is that amidst the finacial carnage of the late 1940s that it happened at all! Oh I could go on, really I could. The Beveridge report, George Orwell, The BBC, improved schools for all. Just thinking about what the Atlee government did in those years makes my brain ache and my heart grateful.
There was also a very good analysis of the 1950 election and the strategies employed by the parties in the pre television age.

Oh, the things you find when tidying up the classroom. Part Two in a series of two.

Theo has opted for the old favourite, putting the 'F' into 'art'. A classic move I'm sure you'll agree.

Oh, the things you find when tidying up the classroom.

I'm pretty sure I know who wrote this.
I don't know who it was sent to.
It made me laugh after a very busy day.

T'Cup

What would you say if you discovered that your Dad had convinced his son in law to open up the home of a friend who happened to be away so that said Dad could watch the FA Cup semi final on the massive widescreen telly?

Road rage

I almost ran the same teenager over twice.

TWICE I tell you!

The second time I politely pointed out to him that in future he might wish to look where he's going.

His reply as he whizzed off on his BMX?

"Farkorfffff!!!"

Pretty much exactly as I would have done in 1988.

High tea

While I'm on the subject of truly great reasons for Norfolk in the spring, here's an aerial picture of a stupendous afternoon tea that was recently served up to us by our dearest chums, the chesnuts of the shire.

We will shortly be hosting them and serving homemade burgers a'la 'Bonnies' of Fifth Avenue.

This one's for Weasel

Sunset at Hempstead, near Holt.


Early morning at Sheringham.


Brilliant gloom at Hempstead.

Some shots of a few days in gorgeous North Norfolk (only 45 minutes flying time from Amsterdam)