- I'm terrified of most people, let alone children. And when I do meet a child, I'm torn between stiffly patting them on the head, shaking their hand, or running madly around with them, gaining their trust and then proceeding to steal their sweets. I don't have a natural affinity with those vertically challenged mites.
- Even the mere prospect of public speaking makes me want to theatrically piss my pants just so that I can escape the situation.
- I have a serious problem with eye contact. I can barely maintain eye contact with my nearest and dearest for prolonged periods. How am I supposed to hold the attention of 30-odd kids or teens for an hour at a time? And how will I know which kid is which if I can't bloody look at them?!
- I use "colourful" language so often that curse words have become second fucking nature to me in my everyday twatting speech. Fuck.
- I am incredibly clumsy. Accidents find me. After thousands of pounds' worth of teacher training, I will be sacked on my first day for smacking a child full on in the face whilst making big hand gestures as I speak. And if not for that, I will be forcefully escorted from the building for tripping over my feet and ended up landing face first in some poor, traumatised teen's lap.
Further proof of how terrible a mentor to the adults of tomorrow I would be came today, when I was asked to show the new girl at work how some simple stuff is done in the office. It turns out my natural approach to teaching is:
- Getting on with what I do normally, but at twice the speed to get the demonstration over and done with.
- Talking at lightspeed, without pause - therefore leaving no time for the new girl's questions but lots of opportunity for me to stammer and make even less sense than normal.
- In a frenzied bid to make new girl feel welcome, nodding way too much at everything she says and laughing like a nutter every time she opens her mouth:
N.G: "Could you pass me the stapler?"
Me: "HAHAHAHAHAHA!!...Oh. Yes."
- In further bid to make new girl feel at home and reassured, every time she makes a small mistake, instead of correcting her, I word-splurge apologetically about it and hope she gets the point:
Constantly tell new girl that I am a crap teacher and that "they" never should have trusted clumsy old me to show someone what to do. Don't know why they've not fired me yet. Ho ho, ha ha.
Think I'll stick to the pursuit of earning money with sweet, sweet words. At least then I won't have to tell anybody what to do...