I Can't Teach So Sue Me......

This is long overdue. Better late than never......

What was seemingly a “get out of jail free” chance turned out to be anything but a positive turn of events. What it did provide was the fact that I am just not cut out to be a teacher, not for primary school students at the very least. Perhaps it was a subtle reminder from the greater being for the good of me or in contrary, the beast’s idea of mockery for my current plight.

I have always flirted with the idea of taking up teaching as a profession, along with my other daydreams such as being a rock star or a real zany standup comic, except it’s a more practical one I guess. Thus when opportunity for a 4 day relief teaching stint came knocking, I seized it with both hands. Besides, it has been a long time since I earned some pocket money.

It was just last Tuesday, I made a journey across the island to the unfamiliar territory of Choa Chu Kang, buoyed by the energy of expectancy. I was early, real early after having arrived at my destination 15 minutes ahead of schedule with time for a mcmuffin in between. Little did I know that the school made a real howler or in my opinion at that point of time, a blessing in disguise. They were actually expecting a “David Chin” rather than moi but I wouldn’t care less since I was already there. And so it begins......

As I made my way to my desk in the staff room, I was greeted with many smiles and well wishes. “A good start.” I thought to myself. My desk was clean and neat, too tidy for comfort in fact. Taking a glance around my surroundings, it seems messy tables littered with books, worksheets or even personal graffiti are a common sight. My table stuck out like a sore thumb but well tucked away being in an obscure corner. I wondered what kind of an educator my predecessor was.

Sparing the mundane details aside, what was to be an exciting experience turned out to be a nightmare instead. Imagine a class of 40 little devils all jacked up and reveling in chaos. Multiply that by 4 and you can have a mental picture of my day. Having pulled every trick I could muster in an attempt to bring the pandemonium under control and still ended up failing miserably, safe for the minute of silence between each volley of my famed "howitzer". I felt vulnerable, too vulnerable for my liking. It was a senario for a movie, think the 80s flick, Kindergarten Cop and you'll get the picture.

I could really use a convenience store within the confines of the school. I would purchase bag loads of patience, a cup of chillout and a dozen packet of silence to last the day. Labels such as “rabid children on the loose” can really value-add to the usual A, B, C, D, etc which serve no real purpose of information but mere apparent division.

Truth is the classes that were assigned to me were amongst the worst lot in school, the EM3s, or so the social stigma brands them to be. They were over-aged, lacking in confidence along with what was perceived to be a lack of aptitude for a regular curriculum. Many have come and gone, none perhaps have truly inspired them. Neither could I, an amateur in everyway.

Even when I got home, the incessant screaming still haunts me every time I close my eyes. Therefore it was only an eventuality that I gave up. Consider teaching shelved in the outer limits of never-never land for me for now and maybe ever. One who lacks an affinity for the modern day brats and still embraces the age old saying. “spare the rod, spoil the child.”Its back to the drawing board......