I was looking at togs today (of all things) and the shop lady asked me something personalish and I blurted out something about being a teacherish. Then she observed how much teachers have to work in the holidays.
I totally corrected her.
As if- unless I become like a HOD of all the HOD’s- whats that like a principal or something? I’d NEVER bring myself to come into school 8-4, 5 days a week- yagottabekiddingme. Seriously, work like ya got no life during the term, then spend hours milling round the mall searching for control undies (im in a wedding this weekend, its a must have).
Then she said something like “ah well, must be nice to have a break from the little uns”. Then I muttered something about secondary students while under a few pairs of sunnies (im cool like that), she gasped, grabbed me under the arm, dragged me under better light and told my I looked to young to teach them.
HA- I suddenly got a flash back to my first practicum when I was 18- intimidating kids older than me.
Quote of the day: “If ya can’t fake it…google to ya make it”.
Oh swoooooooon, google. my best friend. I learn’t how to photograph like a techicat, how to sing (www.tangle.com), how to teach yr 8’s about the blues era, how to play I’m yours (Jason Mraz) on the ukulele- and more. When its just to inappropiate to ask the person sitting next to you in ch, or to ring your mum in the middle of the night- google will be there for you. If not google- then youtube.
So there you have it. A soliliqy exhibiting the signs of life that doesn’t ring of…well bells.