Monday 27 July 2015

Back to School

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First day of a new school year, just as he'd done for the last twenty years Mitch wondered what this year would bring. He wearily slipped into his suit. As he always did at this time of year he wondered why God hated teachers so much. Why did he compress the school holidays into just a few seconds? Why was he so cruel? Every year that six weeks seemed to get shorter and shorter and every year the back to school adverts got earlier and earlier. Never mind keeping Christmas in December, how about keeping Back to School campaigns in August. Seeing those adverts before school even broke up was soul destroying for teachers, reminding them their 6 weeks of parole was just a temporary respite from the incarceration of the classroom.
Mitch reflected on his 19-year teaching career, had kids got harder to control or had he moved further and further away from them in age? He'd kind of understood, Tamagotchi and even Pokemon but he didn't understand Minecraft or FIFA 16 or Meghan Bloody Trainor. No wonder the kids were bored in his class.

And then there were the keen colleagues, the ones who spent the summer brushing up on their skills, who claimed teaching was a vocation not a career. Well if it was such a vocation why did he spend his time wishing he was on vacation.
You'd think at his age the butterflies would get smaller. But over the last few years Mitch had faced the new year with a growing sense of trepidation; new students, new targets, new curriculum, life was never easy.
He collected his thoughts, collected his things, wished himself good luck and headed out of the door and into the unknown. The nerves were terrible, bordering on a panic attack. He recognised the signs, he’d had a few last year; hiding in the stationary cupboard for half a lesson on one occasion. Were the self-doubts surfacing again? As he drove to school, he'd felt himself getting sweaty, dizzy, breathless. He had to pull over and take a walk to compose himself. He considered not going in at all; just turning he car around and going home. After a few deep breaths he decided to go through with it. After all it was only 9 months.
Mitch sat in class feeling shy, feeling nervous. Students filed in, God they looked young. Or maybe he was just old, too old for this. Mitch felt all eyes were on him, like he was being assessed, judged, laughed at. He felt alone, exposed; he quickly looked down to check he was dressed, that his fly was done up, that he didn’t have egg down his tie. Why hadn't he turned the car around? He’d be home by now, back in bed. He could feel the panic rising again, he tried to battle it, he took a deep breath and straightened his tie. He was being silly, paranoid, the students were so wrapped up in themselves they’d hardly noticed him. The noise began to die down as the class settled. Mitch looked up, it was time to start.
'Good morning,' his teacher said, 'and welcome to day one of your M.A. Course, we hope you enjoy the year.' 

2 comments:

  1. These unexpected endings are your trademark:-) I love them

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    Replies
    1. This is very autobiographical, the hunter is becoming the hunted.

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