The clock struck twelve and I was relieved to have a half our break before I had to dash off again to catch a ride to the south west of Fife. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but on Wednesday afternoons I'm a 'classroom assistant' to a first year (11-12 year olds) RME (no, not rapid eye movement or the band, but Religious and Moral Education) class. But before I come to that, I'll just mention the strange experience of being in a newspaper photo shoot.
Because I'm a senior ambassador I'm expected to arrive earlier and stay later than most ambassadors. So with few available, I was asked if I would be in a photo shoot. 'Sure, why not?' I said. It was not long after that I wished I had just finished eating my lunch instead. Anyway, I thought the shoot wouldn't take very long but as expected it overran. We were briefed that it was for a high profile American business paper, and that the photographer wanted to take photos in various locations around St Andrews. I knew I couldn't stay for all of it but I thought the first shoot wouldn't take very long. Boy was I wrong. We were asked to remove our scarves (it was a pretty gusty day) because the issue was to be released in June. So with teeth chattering we were finally ready to start. Or so I thought.
Photo credit to RoyalshakeSo after what seemed like 50 shutter clicks or so I said I had to run off. However, things were not that easy, I still had to sign a photo release form before going. Waiting for the forms to be photocopied, I nervously watched as the large hand of St Salvator's clock ticked by. Upon receiving a form, I recklessly scrawled my details down and proceeded to run and eat my lunch simultaneously. Arriving with a parched mouth and cramp, I apologised profusely only to notice that there was still one other person to come *sigh*
After an hour's snooze we were finally dropped off at the school. It was our last week tutoring and I was intrigued to know what the class would be doing. Greeted by Mr Thompson and another of his eccentric ties (this time cluttered with sheep, last time he had one with a panda on it) he said the lessons would be on Ramadan. We'd been studying Islam for the last five weeks and I'm slightly embarassed to admit that I too, like the first years, found myself attentively paying attention to what was being taught. Whilst the class were getting on with things I managed to have a chat with Mr Thompson. He'd asked whether my time at the school had proved useful. I told him - and insisted that it was no reflection on him as a teacher - that I didn't know whether teaching was really for me.
Photo credit to Im4gineTheM4gicA few weeks ago I had asked him why he had become a teacher. His reply was exactly what I wanted to hear. Apart from it being 'fun' he said that the feeling you get as a teacher on the rare occasions you see the penny drop, makes every late homework, detention and struggle worth it. He then asked why I was thinking of becoming a teacher. I replied saying that I was fortunate enough to have experienced that 'penny dropping' moment, so much so that I went on to study that subject at university. To be able to return the favour and inspire even just one student, would be amazing.
Photo credit to maximorobMy worry though is that I wouldn't be a very good teacher. Someone once told me they thought I would make a great teacher. I didn't believe it then and still don't believe it now. I get unnecessarily anxious about talking in front of a group of people, that getting up in front of a class of 20 odd would make me break out in a sweat. Not to mention the fact that I talk a ridiculous amount of nonsense.
I'd love to teach. To inspire others to think for themselves, to get them to attempt to answer the unanswerable questions of life, to even be taught a few things myself, would be great. Perhaps teaching just isn't for me though.