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It's now 9.15 in the morning and I just finished marking two loads of assignments. I have been up for nearly 18 hours and I am just about to collapse. I'm writing this entry because I think I've achieved a superhuman feat. Thank God for cigarettes.
It's true. There's no such thing as a teacher anymore. We're just markers. That's what we are; just markers honey. We spend the best part of our lives scribbling on paper. What could we have achieved if the bastards in universities paid us more to teach? That would be a different world I think.
I'll die soon and reincarnate as a pen. Then at least I'll be more useful.
It's true. There's no such thing as a teacher anymore. We're just markers. That's what we are; just markers honey. We spend the best part of our lives scribbling on paper. What could we have achieved if the bastards in universities paid us more to teach? That would be a different world I think.
I'll die soon and reincarnate as a pen. Then at least I'll be more useful.
posted by Insouciantfemme at 9:14 am
2 Comments:
And if you were a pen Insouci, would you be a retro version of a past pen - with broad nib and small glass container of some appropriately mute coloured ink, or one of those disposable plastic biros emblazoned with the crest of your institution, or .....?
You, a full body pen? You gave me thoughts, dear. You gave me thoughts. :P
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