I'm trying to remember what I was like at sixteen. Hair flat, nails worn, a thick shell weighing heavily down on my back, I fell in love with a rockstar with thick, tousled locks and tight, leather pants. He was better than any boy I'd gazed at, any boy whom I'd written to on MSN.… Continue reading Sixteen.
The Gran Canarian heat has me sprawled across the stony floor like a starfish. Pores open, chest red from sunburn, Three showers a day is a common occurrence. Deodorant stick runs frighteningly low, Armpits stagnant after a hard day's labour, Teaching the youth of today and tomorrow. Donning long sleeves to look presentable, more business-like,… Continue reading The Gran Canarian heat
I took to my bed like Janis Joplin to her Southern Comfort. Diving down between the sheets... earplugs in because the TV's a-cracklin' in the living room. Fleeting thoughts about one of my students whose curiosity puts his classmates to shame. Wondering if I'll ever have a kid like that. Couple of Spanish words bicker… Continue reading Week nights.
They all filter into the classroom like the condensation on my Coke can. Four of them, all older than me, all wiser than me, all infinitely better at life than me. One sells properties to banks (at least, that's what I gauged from his clumsy L1 expressions) and another wears too much eyeliner. Funny, isn't… Continue reading Too many teachers spoil the broth