95. 100

An other milestone reached. 

I have published 100 posts on this blog. Goodness me! One hundred!

I get good vibes out of this. I can do with good vibes. To tell the truth I am feeling a little down these days. This having to do real work. Real as in, you get up, you go there, you speak through your mask at real teens made out of flesh and bones. 

I liked it better when it was all about coming down the stairs, hair in a mess, dressed in an old cardigan with holes in it and about heading towards the kitchen to make tea and then straight to the desk. It gave me great pleasure to mutter 'Oh dear! I'm a touch late this morning' and then sit down and scroll down the list of names. The giving them a task to complete so I could go and get a round of toast. With butter and marmelade. And an other cup of steaming English breakfast tea. 

I would always have time to go to the loo and never miss a break because of the photocopying machine going berserk and churning out piles and piles of the exact bits I did not want printed. You know, you watch it, you can't stop it, there is a queue of people behind you who can see that your printing is going to go straight from the tray into the wastepaper basket. They are looking at you and suddenly you know. You know that if the planet is in such a dire state it is because of you. You only. Because for goodness' sake you still can't work the settings on such a straight forward machine!

None of this. Zero pressure. Zero stress. Home sweet home. Sweet old cardigan with holes in it. I am finally helping with the planet thing. 

Well, these days are gone. Now I am walking up and down the classroom, mask on and desperately trying to teach English. I have to get them to speak, I am a language teacher! So I ask questions just like in the old days. Problem is I can't hear them speaking. I just hear a faint mumble. So I take a walk amongst the rows of desks. When I get level with the student who has to give the answer I stop, I lean a little towards him, place the palm of my hand behind my ear and listen.

' ... '

Nothing. Just a faint mumble.

'Sorry? Could you say this louder so we can hear?'

' ... '

I lose patience.

'EXCUSE ME! COULD YOU REPEAT THAT PLEASE SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR?'

And the poor victim who is undoubtedly cursing the mad woman who is trying to pass as a teacher repeats. But still no-one can hear. 

'EXCUSE ME! COULD YOU REPEAT THAT AGAIN PLEASE?'

I feel like Professor Calculus. I am wondering if Amazon sells this little object he uses to help with his hearing. Mini-microphones would be cool but too expensive.

So the poor teen repeats but the rest of the class looks at me as if to say 'sorry, we can't make that out'. So I say:

'All right! Just take your mask off a second and repeat, please!'

The teen pulls the mask away from his face, says his bit, enjoys a breather and lets go. Twang goes the elastic. 

I am happy now. Just like Professor Calculus, I get really excited about this academic breakthrough.

'Yes! Excellent answer! Wonderful!' I yell through the mask, just to show them how to get heard.

Then I almost run back to the board and tell them all to write this stuff down in their books.

Now I am truly exhausted. And out of breath. And thirsty. And I want to scratch my nose. So I go to the desk, sit down behind the computer and get my flask and pour myself a cup of tepid tea. And my! It tastes so good that tomorrow I will pack a round of buttered toast and a mini pot of orange marmelade.