I’m sure that you’ve all heard the old adage, “Those who can’t just instruct others.”  In the spirit of this adage, I bring you a discussion on self-righteous teaching types.

I’m unsure how you can complain that your job is difficult when you get more than three months of the year off. Don’t talk to me about the difficulties of lesson planning and the horror of marking reports as if they are any more stressful than the rigours of a job in the real world. I could do your job. Lots of people could do your job. In fact, I know some teachers that couldn’t start a fire in an oil refinery, yet are freely trusted to teach the children of our society. Additionally, you are paid enough. Stop fucking whingeing for increased pay every second year. Considering that you entered this ‘profession’ presumably because you’re passionate about teaching kids, surely you understood that you weren’t going to be paid the same amount as a rocket scientist when you signed up? Your per-hour rate can’t be too shabby anyway considering the amount of holidays you get.

So kids, who wants to hear about that time I killed a hooker?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not for a moment disputing the importance of teaching or that of giving children a decent education. Indeed, I had some teachers going through my schooling that I respected and learnt a lot from. Most of those teachers had worked in a job outside of teaching beforehand, giving them invaluable life experience that I could identify with. What I am disputing here is that it’s any more difficult than any other job and that you (as a teacher) are in any way special or require a level of validation from the rest of us befitting your role.

There’s nothing worse than a newly minted teacher, fresh out of University talking about the children in whatever class they’ve been assigned by the Department of Education (or whoever makes these decisions) as ‘their kids’ like some newly purchased fashion accessory. Here’s a tip; if I’m in the same restaurant/bar/cafe as you, in the middle of some pointless pleasantries masquerading as a conversation and I ask you how your work is going, I want one of the following answers.

1)      “Good”

2)      “Bad”

3)      “Yeah, okay.”

I don’t want the following answer:

“Yeah, I’m feeling so fulfilled as a teacher. It really is a true calling in every sense of the word. I don’t know how anyone else gets up in the morning to go to a regular job. I mean, it’s a really, really difficult job but my kids are all so great. The other day, one of my little angels, Tommy, was being a bit of a show-off to the other kids in the class. Tommy is like that, always looking for attention, little rascal that he is. Anyway, he was in the middle of hamming it up for the girls in the class, little heartbreaker that he is, when I reprimanded him for being a distraction. You wouldn’t believe what his response was!”

I didn’t give a fuck what his response was then and don’t know, so neither should you. He’s a ten year-old boy. I doubt that anything that he says could be considered revelatory. I can’t be bothered writing the rest of this inane conversation, just as I couldn’t be bothered listening to this person detail it in the first place. Now, I dare you to try and endure this for an entire evening without wanting to take your dessert spoon from the table and forcibly remove the culprit’s eyeballs from their skull with it.

It’s great that you’re the smartest person in the room… For 5 days per week… Most of the time.

/end communication