1) The sweet, polite, hard-working kids who desperately want to do well in their exams and are writing, re-writing, and checking their papers up until the final minute, often pulling at their hair and looking to the ceiling when digging deep for an answer (FYI, looking upwards indicates you know the answer, it's just a case of remembering it. Gazing downwards shows you've got no hope, it ain't happening. That's A level Psychology in a nutshell). They will apologetically ask for a pen if theirs runs out, and flash you a relieved smile as you collect their papers. They are endearing, and if I ever became and English teacher I imagine pupils like these would be a complete joy to have in the class.
2) The students who are obviously more than capable but have chosen to spend their lesson time flirting/texting/perfecting the art of drawing a perfectly symmetrical love heart. Usually finishing the exam at least 30 minutes before the end, frequently asking to go to the toilet, often trying to catch the eye of other students, always in need of stationary of some sort. Last summer a boy put his hand up in an exam and said to me "Miss, I can't answer any of these questions because I bunked every lesson". Not only did I not know what to say, but I got a sinking feeling in my stomach and oddly sympathised with this young lad. He was worried, regretful, and was just beginning to realise how stupid he'd been. I could see it in his eyes. He knew telling me that wasn't going to make any difference, he was just desperate for some kind of reassurance. Of course it was too late for him, or me, to do anything about it. He answered one or two questions and then sat for the next hour or so with his head on the desk. I found it really sad.
It's the category two pupils that inspire me to become an English teacher. I know it's an incredibly naive and optimistic view to have, but I feel an almost maternal need to encourage these young people to do well, and feel like I have something to offer them. I care about the English language, am passionate about literature, and if I could instil that same kind of love for English in other people I'd honestly be thrilled. This is going to sound really daft, but I get all tingly handing out the English papers, and mentally plan the revision classes I would've held for my pupils; I genuinely want them all to do the best they possibly can.
When I was at school my close family, friends, and even two of three of my own teachers, told me that I was going to become an English teacher. I'm not sure why, as they never really justified their predictions, but this was something I was quietly resentful of and fiercely denied. As a teen it was my arrogant and false belief that "those who can't, teach", and I had inflated ideas of the kind of career I wanted. But a combination of growing up and working in a school has made me re-evaluate what type of career would suit me. That phrase now makes me quite angry, as I've come to realise that to teach is to inspire; some do it well, some don't, but teaching is not something to be considered as a last resort. If taken seriously it's a huge responsibility.
I'm not saying I'm definitely going to be a teacher; who knows, this time next year I could be lusting after a job as chief taster at Cadbury's, or realise that it is my calling to rescue and care for injured field mice. I have another year left at Uni, anything could happen. For the moment, all I know is that there is a bubbling passion for teaching within me, and I'm quite happy with it being there.
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