Okay, so I wasn’t into learning as a kid. Most teachers didn’t seem to be able or willing to help in my learning either and so I just went to school. I arrived, stayed there during the day, attempted to eat the disgusting food at lunchtime, dodged bullies and generally came home safe. Learnt nothing much, was gormless and sadly apathetic. I was encouraged by my father to conform in going. My mother was so into nature I think that rubbed off, for I loved to look out of the window and so much more wanted to be outside. Even now looking outside is a comfort to me when inside and stressed.
So how did I find myself as an adult, doing a spot of temp work in a school? Probably due to the words per minute I had self taught on a typewriter, but there wasn’t a lot about knowing what all the words actually meant. Anyways, here’s the story: Once upon a time, a teacher’s hand writing at that school was so bloody diabolical and utter scribble, that his O, R and N sort of ran together, as if it was am. Well, as I had no American history knowledge whatsoever (knowledge lacking, not intelligence) I just typed what I saw a bit like the UK TV programme Catchphrase’s “Say what you see”. I was doing great and typed that things so bloody fast letter by letter, word for word, documents done. Of course I didn’t type Custard, I could see it was Custer (who ever he was). What I did type however, was a lot about a place called “Big-ham” and to be exact Little Bigham. I checked it all a few times, collated the papers as all seemed grand and correct. So I ran lots of copies for perhaps over thirty students. I placed them neatly on the desks. Jobs a good un, well that job might have been, but for me it didn’t last long and as this story goes, it was The End!
To be honest I’m glad I hadn’t been taught traditionally told American white history. I’m still not interested in a place called Little Big Horn and glad I hadn’t a bloody clue back then. For the teacher was an angry man and perhaps he needed to have an adult point out his handwriting flaw through no fault of my own. So to all those who try teaching kids of the kind I still am, good luck with that. Just stay kind though (unlike the angry man of that day) for although World Teachers Day was due on Saturday, apparently today is the official day to celebrate it (at UNESCO Headquarters in Paris). I know of one teacher’s daughter who is following on in her father’s footsteps and good luck to her, for she although she can be a bit pushy, she is a good ‘n’ and totally up for being vegan, kind to animals and a bright spark to boot too and would probably encourage kids to think for themselves.
Over Soil 
Good post! My daughter says that to be kind is the only ‘rule’ she gives to her students! 🙂
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I’m wishing her my best wishes, for she sounds like a good ‘n’ with a sensible compassionate head on her shoulders. Well done to you for being her mother and helping her get to this point.
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Lovely post..Thanks for sharing
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