Here we are again…
I’m stood in front of 30 young, eager and expectant faces. I imagine that the majority of them got out of bed rather reluctantly this morning, after being forced by jubilant parents to get dressed, eat breakfast and get out of the house after 6 long weeks at home. Yet somehow, the majority of them still appear quite pleased to be here.
As always, I have a brief moment, where I become overwhelmed by the responsibility of shaping the minds of these precious, susceptible children sat in front of me now. However, it’s my job and it’s a job I enjoy, so I take a deep breath and begin.
And that’s when it happens – that’s when I realise I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say. There’s no lesson plan and not a single resource in sight. In fact, I haven’t prepared any of the lessons for today. The children are silent as they wait expectantly for me to begin, completely oblivious to the panic that is welling up inside of me. I desperately look around the class for inspiration; empty walls, completely devoid of any stimulating display, stare back at me.
How could I have been so neglectful? Why hadn’t I spent any time preparing? I have sixteen year’s worth of lessons stored inside my head, so why can’t I think of a single thing to do?
The children are beginning to smell a rat as they watch me squirm and sweat in the spotlight. They are beginning to get restless. That one child in particular, has spied an opportunity to take advantage of the situation. I’m losing them and there appears to be not a single thing I can do about it.
Suddenly, and thankfully, I wake up. I’m still at home in the comfort of my own bed. I look at the alarm clock – 5:30 am. I throw the covers back and climb wearily out of bed, safe in the knowledge that I’ve spent the last two weeks preparing. So marks the end of my holiday it its usual fashion.
Tell me your back to school nightmares (I mean dreams) in the comments below.