I went to the office this morning to help out at the kids holiday club. I got there at half eight for a nine o clock start, but no one else showed up until about ten. I used the time in between to work on the storeroom. I’m sure I must be making progress; I’ve spend over six hours in there, but there appears to be little improvement. The only evidence that anyone has been in there is that small piles of folded clothes are now mingled in with the mounds of screwed up ones. It reminds be of the time I spent 8 hours alone in the basement of the business centre during the refurb. My instructions were to bring order to that dank and dingy realm, but overworked, overtired, and probably suffering from a mild case of lead poisoning, all I managed to do was to neatly arrange the power tools, in the wrong place I might add, and knock over a pot of paint. By the time I had put the tools in the right place and cleaned up the paint, I was just a shadow of my former self, weeping, twitching and babbling nonsense to myself. The store room has not pushed me far as of yet, but there's still time...
Anyway, the kids arrived and I sat down with them expecting to observe the lesson and help them with any questions they had. I wondered where the teacher was, and after a few minutes of them looking at me expectantly, me staring back at them blankly, I decided to ask. And that is the story of how I came to be teaching English all week.
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