Teaching little kids: you never know what might happen...

So. In my short life, lots of people have told me that I should be a teacher. And it's true, I do like teaching. But I've always known that it'd be secondary. I just can't cope with small children - they do my head in and you can't talk to them like a normal human. Plus, you never quite know what's going to happen.

Take this example: I was teaching English yesterday to the preschool class at Santa Cruz. Now, this isn't something I normally relish, although it's made easier if Liz is helping. But Liz is sunning herself on the beach so I was on my own with 18 of the little darlings. I'm not convinced that I could hold a class of 18 two to five year olds in English. I know that I can't do it in Spanish. Betsi came to help and we were playing a game to learn about fruits. "Cierran sus ojitos" (close your eyes) - "Hmmm - huelo un 'carrot'. Que es un 'carrot' en español?" (I smell a carrot, what is 'carrot' in Spanish?). The game continues: "huelo un 'orange', Que es un 'orange?".

And then something happened. hmmm - I smell... something else. We look up and one of the little girls had just pooed herself. Well, not herself so much as the floor. Just standing there she had, if you excuse the expression, curled a log out. And then proceeded to walk it around the classroom. Now, not to mention the apparent lack of underwear, this is not normal classroom behaviour. We just looked at each other and laughed at the impeccable timing of the whole situation. It was made more funny by the fact that the day had already been a manic disaster (and this was something extra that we didn't want) and because when I texted Liz she said she laughed so much she felt ill. I'm still smiling as I write this now.

I don't know quite what tickles me about the whole thing but here's the moral of the story. Don't teach little kids. You never quite know what might happen...