Exhale

Confessions of a stand-in Relief Teacher.

2pm msging Mel and Sarah from the staffroom: SOME KIDS NEED TO DIE

Well its true.

To call some of the students I came across as 'quiet' would be a bit of an undeserving compliment and a euphemism. Stepping into the classroom was like entering a parallel universe inhabited by extras from Dawn of the Dead. Its one thing to encounter shy/quiet students. Its another to be met with blank looks of utter apathy and stoned expressions of soulless individuals who make no pretence of staying awake. In comparison, they make zombies appear perfectly sprightly, alert and attentive.

So there was some funny person who refused to own up to being class rep (oh hahahaha you'll never find out who I am! can't catch me im the gingerbread man!) until she realized I already knew the name of the rep beforehand. Some cocky guy who refused to respond when his name was read off the register and instead adopted a self-conceited smirk. This girl, whom I felt bore striking resemblance to the Queen of the Damned, imitating Sharon Au's dead fish look commendably throughout the entire lesson. And some girl who was in very permanent and obvious comatose, her head making violent jerks every 10 seconds. I was just waiting for it to bang against the table or on a giant stapler. *grumbles*

These are our brightest minds.

But to be fair there were some live ones among the legions of undead. And their seniors were fine. And maybe volcanic landforms aren't very exciting. And I'm not the most entertaining or assertive teacher.

But still, at least open your damn notes to page 70 when I say so!

I think I should employ a professional yeller/disciplinarian whenever I teach. Imagine the fun. Getting other people to do something I can't bring myself to do, apart from fantasizing about giant staplers and grievous body hurt. Just one look from me and said yeller would blast them into oblivion and back again. He would incorporate Teacher A's (guess who!) sheer ferocity and volume; Teacher B's penchant for deathly silences and public humiliation; and Teacher's C's elaborate bombast and acid sarcasm. What could be worse? You have got to have a dream.

posted by Jeanne @ 10:58 PM