Back to school...

Well, new term = new stoat. Or not really. I am the same as ever, but I have a new class. The problem with my being a teacher is that I have this five second memory. At the beginning of the year, I conveniently forget that a whole year of nagging and coaxing turns little 8 year old boys into normal pleasant members of society. Ish... Then it is seemingly inconceivable that when the new class arrive that they are rude and weird. They aren't bad actually. A very sweet bunch this year all things considered, but they must get used to my way of working. This can roughly be described as 'Do as I say without question lest you incur my wrath!'. It's awful when you have to be all wrathful with tiny little children who have been thrown in the deep end. But these are surprisingly resilient little oiks, who are back doing the same thing you were wrathful about 20 seconds ago. (Hm. Seems they are a little lacking in memory also. Definitely my class...)



What's really weird is seeing the tiny little boys of yore as great hulking year 8 chaps now. Funnily enough, they are just as soppy as they were then, but now in a five foot eight, burly package. Creepy. I'm never having children if this 'growing up' thing is what happens. It's weird enough when you personally produce real and vivid, screaming, vomiting life. How very strange when that life becomes a grown up person. It's funny that I hadn't considered this before. It's that kind of thinking that leads to breast feeding your child up to the age of 25 or whatever weird stuff goes on today. The Pook and I have discussed the issue of 'Breast is Best' (presumably in a lull of more sparkling conversation, or on the train or something...) and decided that while breast-feeding is a wholly important thing, no child should actually have to live with the memory of doing so. That would surely fuck you up. Pardon my french!



Anyway... speaking of the hulking great brutes: I had my first bedtime duty of the year last night. Everyone was alarmingly free spirited in the bathroom, I had to spend most of my time staring at the ceiling every time I had to go in and tell them off. I find a reprimand lacks something if you need to deliver it to an inanimate object. I mean, I knocked on the door and shouted 'is everyone decent?' through the crack. Jeez.

In other news: I am trying to eat more veg. Unfortunately I have gone about this with a little too much gusto with explosive results... Charming.