I'm going back tomorrow. To school.
I know. Can you believe it?
Lemme 'splain: it's not really teaching. I'm going to tutor a four-year-old French girl whose family just moved here. She is set to start preschool next week, and her parents want her to have a little bit of English under her belt before she goes. So far the little girl can say "See ya!", which is more than many French adults can manage.
The best part is that I applied for the job on Sunday evening and got hired Monday afternoon. That's my kind of job search! The pay is decent. Plus, it's an international company, and they will add me to their list of tutors, so I might get more work from them in the future.
Today Allan and I went shopping for some supplies, because, you know, I left all that shit in France; anyway, I taught middle school those last few years. And when we entered the Parent-Teacher Store, we both said "Oh, cool!" It must be said that we are both paper geeks. Office supply stores excite us. Boxes of paperclips and stacks of Post-Its make us giddy.
I know. Geeks.
So we browsed the store, and I found some things that would help me convey some concepts to the little French girl. Allan kept showing me neat things, and I kept feeling like I wanted to be a teacher.
Scary, isn't it?
A little while ago, after I'd finished making flashcards, but before I'd finished punching out the orange oak tag letters, I asked Allan, "Do you think I'm making a lot of effort for not much payback?" I was tired of all the crafty crap I was doing for these six hours of tutoring (Oh, yeah, it's a REALLY short-term assignment. Six hours between tomorrow and next Thursday).
Allan said, "No, I think you're being professional, because you are one." That made me feel good, because something drove me to apply for this job, and something drove me to apply myself to the preparation for it. Maybe I'm not a slacker after all. Maybe I don't hate teaching after all.
Wait. Yes I do. But I think I can handle a four-year-old for six hours.
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