Yesterday, a kid pissed himself in my class. Admittedly he was only three, but I should have realised what was about to happen when I saw him gingerly gripping his doodah whilst I was teaching him to count to 10.
It was only at the end I noticed there was a small puddle on my carpet and a dark stain spreading out from the centre his grey shorts. I know my lessons are exciting but steady on....
Then it was time for a student I will simply call Mrs Mouse ; a 25 year old woman so weak, feeble and utterly unprepared for life you feel like shaking by her shoulders whilst shouting “just snap out of it, woman.”
She has nothing to say for herself, communicates via a series of non-committal whimpers and looks at me like a cow looks at the owner of an abbatoir.
I feel guilty for being so negative towards her. Hell, being shy is not a crime and a lack of confidence is not a reason to view someone so disparagingly.
But she’s just so....oh I don’t know.....inert. The human equivalent of balsa wood. Or watered down Lime Cordial.
To her I say this: Where’s your balls? Where’s your vim? Where’s your fire? Shout at me. Argue with me. Just do something which doesn’t involve you wincing uncomfortably like you’ve got wind every time I ask you a question.
The kid before you could beat you in a staring competition. And in an act of defiance, he also pissed on the floor. Maybe you should try that. I would respect you more.
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