Goose Chasing

Your Class Was Pathetic.

It wasn't what she was saying, it was what I was hearing over and over and over again as she told me 'you need to be more interesting' 'pace the room' 'use your voice' 'never sit down' 'always keep an eye on them' 'take drama classes to improve your voice' 'you have to own the room or they'll be hanging off the rafters'. She was being helpful, she was giving me good advice....

Your Class Was Pathetic.

It was my first lesson. I had to cover a passage on the atomic bomb. I walked in to the room, shaking a little, starting to sweat a little. The teacher introduced me to the class and told them that I was going to take a lesson with them. She sat on her desk in the background marking work and it was over to me.

I had been given a passage on the atomic bomb to grab their interest. So I got each of them to read out a paragraph, asked them what a handful of words meant, and then went over the questions.

Or so I think I did.

Most of it is a blank. The thing I remember best was sitting there worrying that the perfuse sweating on my forehead had been picked up on by the members of the class.

After the class, and my feedback on it, I went home and went to bed. I don't think I can do this. If I can't teach a well-mannered P7 class a pasage in a book for half an hour, how on earth am I going to teach a rabblesome class of teenagers? Sometimes I wonder what the hell I'm doing.

I feel sick and exhausted. I've been invited out tonight but I just want to stay in bed as my cold just seems to be getting worse and worse. I've also got my dissertation hanging over me constantly. As soon as I awoke after my sleep this afternoon it came to my mind. I felt ill. Its just waiting there demanding to be done. And I'm not doing it. I've lost interest in it long ago. To be honest, I don't even know why I did the Masters. And also, after today, I don't know why I'm doing the current teacher course either.

Everything I do is average. My life is an endless repetition of things someone else has said, things someone else has done. The only thing I was ever brilliant at at school was English, which is why I've pushed and pushed in that direction since - doing my Degree in English, doing my Masters in English, training to be an English teacher. And now I'm fed up with English. My Masters has taught me that I'm not good enough to be a Lecturer. These past few weeks seem to have taught me the same about teaching.

Maybe I should wittle my days away in a boring office job somewhere. Boring, but safe. But no I'd never do that. It would be my worst nightmare. In fact not wanting to end up in such a position is the only thing that is really spurring me on.

Oh, to regress back to childhood. All this adult stuff gives me a headache.