So the purple man left, and off I went in the search of this new reality. Uniting my jobless state to my newly found youth, I found myself soon after teaching school dropouts. Yes, me. The report from the previous teacher said the most horrid things about Luke, my new pupil, and a few interesting ones like “he always does headstands and won’t stay still”. I quite like the idea of learning how to do headstands so I packed my lunch, filled my bag with papers and coloured pencils and left to the centre, looking forward to get upside down.
We clicked immediately. I could not see the person described on the report on that kid. Off we went to the park to exchange ideas on martial arts and acrobatics. The first thing he mentions when teaching me acrobatics is that the only thing to fear is the fear itself and yourself. Haha. From then on it was all uphill.
There is something about the way all the kids at the centre talk to me that make me believe even more that purple man. We connect, and that puts me right at the centre of the storm. I can see from where I stand that their most serious problems are their teachers and their schools, no doubt. It’s hilarious.
We tell jokes and laugh out loud until one of the very problematic female tutors screams some random abuse, telling them to be quiet (??) and sit facing her chosen side of the wall. I don’t get involved. Them females think I’m mad. Who cares? I orgasm! Woohoo. Hahaaaa.It’s sad yet fascinating to be present at the very moment society fucks up their lives. It’s quite entertaining to apply them tutor’s little stupid diagnosis to their own fucking selves. Your arse is dyslexic, you’re a serious case of OCD with a pinch of disillusioned paranoia and you bum DOES look big in that!
I can’t tell any further for legal and moral (hahaha) reasons. All I can say is that this is quite a fulfilling job, England is a massively dysfunctional country, TV is rubbish, Tesco sucks, you’re fat and not that funny and women should all wank until they come so they stop throwing their shit on innocent kids. Word.
5 comments:
Kids are great, even whilst being ruined by the system. You are doing more for yours than maybe anyone will.
Once I drove a special ed. bus... with all the cripples, retards, and mongoloid sex pots (just one of those, but she flirted enough for her entire army). Those kids were beautiful to me, and they came alive when they got on my bus. It was magic, everyday was like the Madhatter's teaparty.
I remember watching a big old black mama start weeping as her tiny little boy in leg braces, who normally could barely walk, flew down the sidewalk and into my arms one morning. I'll never forget it.
I like to think I did some good for those kids. I know they did a lot for me.
I'm sure you did!! That's great story. :D
It's so fucking satisfying to care for them...
They'll remember you their whole life babes! And I would love to make a doco on indigos bus
I start substitute teaching in a month, was totally nervous but after reading this, I'm quite excited and have the warmest feeling about my awaiting adventures. What a great post!
Post a Comment