I never really write about work in here any more, mainly because it’s become routine, like work always does I suppose. Routine is better than stress by all accounts, so I suppose I should be content.
Weekends are still not something I look forward to, though they don’t loom over the week like they used to. Friday nights I have to stay at home and plan the weekend’s lessons, then on Saturday morning I get up at 7.30 and catch the bus to work. The first lesson is at 9am, then there are two more at 10.10 and 11.15. The first two are the worst of the day, being full of ten-year-old boys who always talk and misbehave. Once those two are over the third class is a breeze, being full of seven-year-old girls who are always attentive and well-behaved. I have an excellent teaching assistant in the morning – she’s a university student and probably better at teaching than I am.
All the teachers finish at about midday, so we all go with the TAs to one of the restaurants nearby for lunch. We used to experiment with different ones but recently we’ve been going to a cheap canteen-style place nearby. When we’ve finished some of the other teachers have class immediately, but I have another hour free so I have a nap in the teachers office where it’s dark.
In the afternoon I have three lessons, but these are less hassle than the ones in the morning because the children are younger and therefore better-behaved. I finish at 6 and go to catch the bus home. Sometimes that’s it for the day, but sometimes I have to go to a drama class and coach the kids’ pronunciation or make a speech somewhere.
Then on Sunday it’s the same thing all over again.
Five more weekends of this then I’m fairly sure I will never have to teach children again.
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