Teacher

The three most common reactions to the money-first-people-second environment of the city are ruthlessness, alcoholism and a secret desire to become a teacher. You know what I say to that? I say why keep it a secret? I say it’s time to tell the world. I say climb a mountain and scream it from the peak: “I WORK IN THE CITY BUT I WANT TO BE A TEACHER AND I’M NOT ASHAMED!”

But hold on – have you thought this through? Teaching is far harder than finance. Have you ever met a child? Do you know what tricky little cunts they can be? Only the other day I met a child, my niece in fact. “Why are you so ugly?” she said to me whilst playing with SpongeBob SquarePants. This is one of the things children do – they speak their minds. This example also illustrates another problem with children: they are often wrong, especially when they are young and can’t see properly. “I’m not ugly,” I explained to Martha. “You’re ugly.” She cried a bit and ran to mummy but what can I say – you have to learn them.

Let’s assume you’re going to teach 11-18 year olds. This period encompasses puberty for both girls and boys. Puberty is a mucky time for all concerned: body odour filling the classroom, whiteheads going off like landmines, wet dreams for those asleep at the back. It’s mucky. Do you want to work in a mucky environment? And don’t forget, teaching ain’t what it used to be: back when you were a kid it was all squeaky blackboards, Look and Read, and “can we work outside today please Miss?” Now it’s knives, gangs, happy slapping and porn on your mobile. You become a teacher today, you’ve got a one in three chance of being stabbed up before the week it out.

I don’t, in point of fact, want to put you off teaching. Teaching is crying out for people with a desire, like the remorseful shoplifter, to put something back. All I’m saying is think about it: teenagers are a peckish breed and if provoked they will eat you alive.