20 Problems Only Student Teachers Will Understand

Honestly, it does get better! Think of the children... or the holidays!

By Hugh Firth /

You€™ve done it. Congratulations. You made your way through the maze of university with its heady mix of decisions between a night out with friends or essay writing. A night in chilling with friends or essay writing. A night sat in the darkness pretending you€™ve got no work to do or... essay writing. You€™ve staggered out into the light, squinting like some debt-ridden Neanderthal as real life blinds you. You€™ve done it though. You€™re an adult. You had hopes and dreams. Of course you did. Find cures for diseases. Help the poor. Win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Unfortunately, you missed the careers fair because of a particularly bad night on The Ladyboys (a pint of bitter, a double gin & tonic and a large Baileys €“ Goddamn you Alan Partridge box set) and now you€™re sat back in your old bedroom at your parent€™s house looking at career opportunities. The local pub needs bar-staff (in five years, if I apply myself, I could be a manager). The local supermarket wants graduates for its management plan (in five years, if I apply myself, I could be a manager). Also, the local off-license is looking for weekend staff (in five years, if I apply myself, I could drink €˜all€™ the booze). Then it hits you as hard as the button click of your mouse. The job you said you wouldn€™t do because your degree was meant to help the greater good. The job you laughed at for all those years you were a student. The job you had no respect for. You€™re going to have to apply for teacher training.

20. The First Day Of The Teacher Training Course

You€™ve bought your pencil case. The highlighters. The comedy folder with Spider-Man on it (I grew out of comic-books years ago, I€™m an adult I think you€™ll find). Basically, you're going to treat being a student-teacher as one great post-modern pseudo-intellectual comedy rollercoaster. You can eat this course for breakfast and still have space for a coffee-shop croissant afterwards. Walking into the college where you€™ll take the course, however, immediately fills you with dread. You shrink. You avoid eye-contact. Oh my god. After all those years at school, at college, at university... you€™re still a bloody student. Entering the classroom you spot the usual suspects. Sarah the Swot. Pencil-case unpacked and pens placed in obsessive right-angles. Chris the Kool Kid. He€™s slouching in his seat. Nothing in front of him (€˜Alright mate, can I borrow a sheet of paper?€™) and Keith the... well, no one really knows about Keith but he is dressed all in denim. The teacher enters. They look both angry and depressed. They don€™t want to teach teachers. It€™s the worst thing in the world. Teaching people who think they know better. It€™s like being at sixth-form again. And so it starts. Ice-breakers. Getting to know each other. Oh my. It€™s so passé. Ice-breakers? Really. Who falls back on that? Standing up and asking each other questions. Then you go through the course guide. Then you talk about your background. I mean really?! Who starts teaching a course like that? You vow, upon Bloom€™s Taxonomy, you will never, ever start a course like this.