Hard long day. Another one. I was once offered the shot at being a teacher years ago. A decent shot at it. A serious chance. I often think about that chance I deliberately didn’t take. And I look at days like today when I went into a school and worked with the students…

I reckon I would have shot my entire heart out in the first week and then tried to shoot out my blood and veins and bones and marrow until I was trying to keep firing the bits of toenail and hair I had left until I just ended up totally empty of anything. Then I’d have reformed. Then I’d have done it again until I eventually lost structural integrity and just became a wobbly mess.

The school asked for my personal number today, bless them. I told them I would only go there if I was sent by the company. She had been asked to get my number though and it was important to her not to fail in her task. I gave it, and told her she’s better booking me through the company.

It was flattering. I hit a vein of something that morning. I had no choice, but it was noticed.

Inner city school. I’m there on my own talking about engineering first thing in the morning. I’m in a massive hall – it’s the assembly hall. They are still moving tables and chairs around when I’m due to start. Somebody hands me a microphone…

I ignore the microphone and take the ten minutes they are using to set up to go around and talk to individuals. I try to use my short term memory to remember ALL of their names. I try to use my charm to get them to give those names to me and enjoy my attempts to remember them all. I cannot get to everybody in the room. But I connect and connect and connect. And then when I stand up there and I start doing a workshop with the microphone, I’m mobile and they all somehow just engage. I don’t have to shut them down at all. For an hour or two, at the start of the day, I’ve got a difficult class in a difficult room and I know they are behaving surprisingly well because I can see the teachers are surprised. The day continues with high engagement.

I’ve got no skin in the game here. That’s always the trick. You can’t manufacture it… If I get somebody who doesn’t like me – as happened with the boat guiding – I’m totally fine with that. I’ll do this job as well as I can for as long as I can, and I’m old and hoary enough now that if I sense anything even approaching the poison of the boat company, I’ll jump. With them – that was my mistake. I fell in love with a dayjob. Mum, dying, pointed her finger at one of the boats. “So and so is working on one of those boats. Why don’t you see if you can get a job there.” I was in “Hey mum, look at me, I’m doing the thing you said. You don’t need to be dead anymore,” right up until I met the blunt end of a very very bad HR department.

But yeah. Today was good. Long. But good. Once again I’m knackered. I’m getting everybody to think about their kilowatt use every day so I might have a low bath. It’s nice to know I can still pull in the Yoot. It might be because I’m interested in them. The last time I did this particular dayjob with any degree of consistency, they were all getting me to dab. That’s like ancient history now. I’m trying to work out what’s current these days. I might be able to report back. Lots of schools though. Am I gonna get COVID again? Hopefully not. I’m bored of it. I’ll try not to.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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