Teaching is difficult

I had the brilliant plan to teach my parents a lesson by going to university, like they had wanted me to, but then studying literature, which resulted in my career plans disappearing. Ever since I was a young boy, I had dreamed of being an actor. Now, being an expert in reading and stuff, there was basically just one thing to do: Become a reluctant teacher.

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I had the brilliant plan to teach my parents a lesson by going to university, like they had wanted me to, but then studying literature, which resulted in my career plans disappearing. Ever since I was a young boy, I had dreamed of being an actor. Now, being an expert in reading and stuff, there was basically just one thing to do: Become a reluctant teacher.

Back at the school, there were a lot of teachers that did not want to be there. At least that’s the impression they gave off. In retrospect, I doubt it was anyone’s dream to talk about Shelley’s Frankenstein in front of a group that was much more interested in the great epic story of “Have you heard who Jennifer hooked up with?”

To be fair: that was an epic story. But for a different time.

It was clear to me that I needed to be a better teacher. One that could hold the attention of a classroom. Instead of going to the class and lecturing them after a failed test, I made it a habit during my internship to enter the classroom holding a large cup of Cola, then immediately throwing it to the wall and shout “What the fuck was that?”

The school disapproved. Dito for the janitor.

Another weapon in my arsenal of great teaching methods was throwing my piece of chalk at babbling students. As did at least one teacher of each of us, dear readers. Unfortunately, since I was doing my internship at a posh school, one day a student saw an iPad approaching his face at rapid speed.

I was banned for life from teaching. And Apple Stores.

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