I’m casually spending my Christmas/January break chilaxing by the seaside in Suffolk, as one does. Not only should I be doing Uni work and writing on my dissertation, I should be making some hefty life choices.
Teaching is something that has been niggling away in the back of my brain for quite a while, in fact, since I was about 8, and in Year 3, and I told my teacher Miss Chappell, that I wanted to be an English teacher. Spooky how 12 years on I’m sat here contemplating my career path and debating whether I’ve merely pushed teaching out because everyone automatically assumes that because I’m studying English Literature, I must want to be a teacher. I hate assumptions and stereotypes.
But the problem is, the curriculum is way too stiff, I hate poetry and Shakespeare, and I’d much prefer to spend all my day talking about and reading some Margaret Atwood.
Here’s the interesting part. Somehow I ended up looking into teaching Spanish, as having lived in Spain for 6 years, my Spanish is still pretty decent. So here I am waiting on a school placement.
Why the sudden change you may wonder. Don’t worry, I’m thinking the same thing. I don’t know where this may go but I have to follow the path in order to find out.
I suppose I could let you know how I get on. Maybe.