I've just finished teaching my last class this arvo. I'm up to my neck in marking from my Year 12s who've left all their assessments to the last moment to submit, my room has the smell of wet jerseys and unwashed socks. In the corner a limp, sullen sandwich is crushed into a pulp, contained within it's gladwrap. I've just yelled at a malingering student to get into class and my lights have been turned off by some idiots next door (shared light controls are a pain in the arse).
But, more importantly, the despair I feel as I think back to my poor little ol'Hornet. Unable to be ridden for a wee while until I restore her to better than new condition!
Also, since no other male teachers have been stupid enough to chaperone the school ball, I have undertaken this unrewarding and frustrating duty myself. Bugger.
It's times like this ... I think ... "What the bloody hell am I being a teacher for!?" esp. since I can earn more dosh in the commercial world and without having to deal with the cherubs in my charge every day!
And, then it comes back to .... 'cause I like teaching and seeing that one student's face light-up when they get something or really appreciate the help you've given them. I'm a mug.
I want to leave early and arrange to pick up my mini-moto bikes, but inertia has me plastered into my teacher's seat. Rant, rave, mutter, blah blah.
I miss riding my little ol'HornetDaisy is getting her forks done at the moment and... I just want to ride.
Right, enough warbling and kitsch emoting... where's some students I can yell at!![]()
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