Maybe it's the lack of sleep caused by my bodies irrational desire to wake up at 7am this morning when I only rolled in at half two, but sadly I've got the feeling that's not it.
I think my major annoyance is that I'm going to have to make a substantial decision, and being a modern metrosexual guy, I don't want to have to do that.
I'm faced with the dilemma of what route my life takes next. You see, I've just flunked a teacher training course. It's not that I'm a crap teacher, I was pretty good at all that sort of thing, it was that I'm a lazy teacher. The paperwork you have to plough through to become a teacher is monstrous, and to be fair, I was far more inclined to do other stuff. Like have fun. Those brave souls on my course who, a mere week after me, passed and gained their NQT status are exactly that. Or sadists. Seeing the inevitable photo's of them celebrating on Facebook, only served to remind me what a close escape I've had. True they'll lap up the next six weeks of doing sweet FA, and there I'm jealous, but once that silver lining has disapated and September strikes, they're going to be weighed down with a workload that even the residents of Auschwitz wouldn't have got out of bed for. The way that job sucks and saps at your very soul is unbelievable, and the day I found out I wasn't going to be a teacher, although originally tinged with sadness, soon became a moment of relief. Problem is, what do I do now?
With a degree in Media, and an almost qualification as an English teacher, the world should be my oyster. Except I live in the arse end of nowhere, and sadly, no ones crying out for someone to join their Video Production team in Nuneaton. Bedworth seems bereft of opportunities for Video Journalists, and Hinckley isn't interested in hiring a freelance writer. I've managed to find one job at Horse & Country TV, but in three weeks thats all.
I should really leave. I should pack my bags and move to the Smoke, where the streets are paved with the same tarmac you get up here, it's just that there's more of them, and they've got more buildings along them, with more jobs. Problem is, I've got the dreaded C word. Not cancer, no, this is far more deadly to a man. Commitments.
Having a girlfriend is a wonderful idea, however, if said girlfriend can't move away from your silly backwater town for whatever reason, you are faced with my current scenario. I could leave her and go off and do my own thing, but I don't like to see women crying (which she would) and I've grown sort of fond of her (I suppose.) This then leaves that wonderful rock and hard place feeling, that gnaws down until you finally reach the solution that all men will finally come too...
I will wait and wait and wait until someone gets the answer for me. And until then, I'll be bloody miserable about it. I'm a bloke after all.
I think my major annoyance is that I'm going to have to make a substantial decision, and being a modern metrosexual guy, I don't want to have to do that.
I'm faced with the dilemma of what route my life takes next. You see, I've just flunked a teacher training course. It's not that I'm a crap teacher, I was pretty good at all that sort of thing, it was that I'm a lazy teacher. The paperwork you have to plough through to become a teacher is monstrous, and to be fair, I was far more inclined to do other stuff. Like have fun. Those brave souls on my course who, a mere week after me, passed and gained their NQT status are exactly that. Or sadists. Seeing the inevitable photo's of them celebrating on Facebook, only served to remind me what a close escape I've had. True they'll lap up the next six weeks of doing sweet FA, and there I'm jealous, but once that silver lining has disapated and September strikes, they're going to be weighed down with a workload that even the residents of Auschwitz wouldn't have got out of bed for. The way that job sucks and saps at your very soul is unbelievable, and the day I found out I wasn't going to be a teacher, although originally tinged with sadness, soon became a moment of relief. Problem is, what do I do now?
With a degree in Media, and an almost qualification as an English teacher, the world should be my oyster. Except I live in the arse end of nowhere, and sadly, no ones crying out for someone to join their Video Production team in Nuneaton. Bedworth seems bereft of opportunities for Video Journalists, and Hinckley isn't interested in hiring a freelance writer. I've managed to find one job at Horse & Country TV, but in three weeks thats all.
I should really leave. I should pack my bags and move to the Smoke, where the streets are paved with the same tarmac you get up here, it's just that there's more of them, and they've got more buildings along them, with more jobs. Problem is, I've got the dreaded C word. Not cancer, no, this is far more deadly to a man. Commitments.
Having a girlfriend is a wonderful idea, however, if said girlfriend can't move away from your silly backwater town for whatever reason, you are faced with my current scenario. I could leave her and go off and do my own thing, but I don't like to see women crying (which she would) and I've grown sort of fond of her (I suppose.) This then leaves that wonderful rock and hard place feeling, that gnaws down until you finally reach the solution that all men will finally come too...
I will wait and wait and wait until someone gets the answer for me. And until then, I'll be bloody miserable about it. I'm a bloke after all.
2 comments:
Brucey
I dropped out in January, and still feel the same. I have the additional burden of being so late into my twenties that I am really more nearly thirty. So now I am jobbing in the ICT department at Bob Smyth out of The Cure (now now, obviously, I'm having lunch) and wondering why, despite everything I know baout the job and what it does to a man, I still want to do it. Mad, eh? I lost a stone from stress, slept not quite two hours a night for eight weeks and my hair started to fall out.
But I still wonder if I could do a GTP. It has to be said, the academic staff at the School of Education were pretty unsympathetic when I had my crisis, and I don't think going to a 'good school' like I did is neccessarily best for a green, green trainee. However, everyone else managed, so I am not pleading special cirumstances. I am sure they will all make fine teachers as well.
The real world is harsh and unpleasant. But it can also be pretty cosy and difficult to make yourself move. I suppose I should have moved to London when I was 23 and everyone else did, but I didn't. So I muddle through. Muddling is what people with high IQs do. Facebook told me so. Basically, you'll be right. You broke your neck once. That's a lot worse.
Sincerely etc.
Doug
sorry ben- you are wrong- i can't wait to start teaching! paperwork or non. all jobs are hard- esp media ones in London- i;ve done it for 2 years so i should know. I worked 10 hours days at least and weekends, never had alunch break or got paid overtime. I left though because the pay off wasn't enough- i didn't LOVE it. how you feel about teaching i guess. that's the difference. all the best jobs are hard work but it's whether you mind doing the work... if you know what i mean. have you tried a company called 20/20- they have offices in leicester. http://www.channel2020.co.uk/
ps your auschwitz joke wasn't funny.
xx
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