The holidays are good

 Yes the holidays are good but….

Really, who would be a teacher? 

The current battery of adverts suggesting that every moment of teaching shapes a life may be true but the risk is that it’s the teacher!s life that’s shaped and shaping can be traumatic.

I am currently convinced that in my dotage I’m turning into a cat, due to a day with the six year olds.

Luckily, I’ve never had a hairy face. Some women are prone to a moustache but not me. I’ve never even noticed a peachy fuzz before but six year olds don’t understand personal space. They pop up before you, like unleashed Jack-in-the-boxes, breathing their jam sandwich breath directly into your face. Getting them to all sit down at the same time is like a complicated game of whack-a-mole. 

So, the after lunch register needs to be done and I’m hearing about tummy aches, playground disagreements, lost jumpers (what do they do with them now? My children never lost jumpers - even though I’m sure they were just as careless with their belongings as kids are today. Maybe we have a jumper eating invisible monster in our school - but I digress.) and they are nearly all sitting on the carpet except one child who is so close I can feel their hot breath.

“You are a bit close. Could you step back a bit? Or preferably sit down like everyone else.”

“I’m just looking at your face.”

“Oh” *thinks* Don’t say ‘creepy’ “but…”

“You’ve got a hair on your face.”

“That fine. My hair blows about a bit.”

“It’s ok I’ve got it.”

The child pulls offending hair and it turns out my first old lady cat whisker has been expertly plucked from my cheek.

Oh God!

Thank goodness the holidays are good.