Alexa, play 'Kids' by MGMT

I love kids. Do I want my own? God, no. Not yet anyway (not really my choice, a boyfriend would be a good start).

I used to be actively repulsed by children. Grumbly eye rolls were an inevitability for Dais and I during our inaugural excursions into 'town' at age 12. A child (under 10 that is, we were much older and more mature) crying, laughing, or god forbid, looking in our general direction? Horrifying! The fact I now work with children 5 days a week is frankly miraculous.

I sort of fell into teaching and working with kids. I was offered a job at my old school in my post-uni gap yah. Thinking it was just an earner, I said yes. I then proceeded to fall in love with education and working with children. They're just so random. In my goodbye card, a lovely girl Flora (not real names, Safeguarding watchdog don't come for me) drew an A3 picture of me. She coloured my teeth in yellow. YELLOW. £400 worth of teeth whitening later and I moved to London.

I ran away from teaching, and worked in advertising in an attempt at my 'hot girl corporate era'. Needless to say, it didn't last long. The pull of a job so worthy and fulfilling won in the end. This is in no way dissing you corporate legends, if I could, I would.

I now work at a school in Fulham, and love it. My self esteem, however, doesn't:

"Miss Lamb, your hair is so stringy"

"Miss Lamb, you smell nice, but you look soooo tired"

"You need to brush your hair. But maybe with a bigger brush. You might break mine"

Picture this: Match Day

It's 2pm on a Tuesday. You've been on a coach for 50 minutes through gridlocked London traffic. You hear the host school on the phone, asking impatiently: "when will you get here?!". Retching is heard from the back of the bus.

Great.

We finally arrive and I'm in charge of the 'superstar' netball team. We all run to the furthest court. I apologise for our tardiness, and the sports teacher pulls me aside.

"Not sure about your team's abilities, but this is effectively our E team. A and B are at a different tournament. C and D are on the other courts"

I reply, "no worries at all! This is just good match exposure for them. Let's just play and see how they go"

*quietly confident*

13-0. Unlucky for some (us). Still reeling.

"Ben, wrong way! You're shooting the other way!"

"Tilly, you CAN'T run with the ball"

*Ball to the face. Tears. Mayhem*

"Just shoot! Take your time (ball flies over the fence - they're only 3'2, how do they do it?)"

Fiercely competitive, I am learning to take a backseat. Mustn't seem too keen or invested. Must remain cool - engaged, but casual. If you know me you'll know this is quite the challenge. Also misgendered an 8 year old boy (or girl?) with dramatically long hair, in earshot of his (/her?) Mother. All in all, a day as chaotic as this post.

Picture this: the Playground

Break duty. You idly ask a child what their favourite part of their summer hols was:

"Screaming so hard at my Granny that I vomited blood"

Alarming, on so many levels.

At breaktime they have the option of milk or water (#bringbacksquash). Remarking about how cold the milk was, Sara declares:

"The milk is cold because the cows are naked"

You turn around, and Dom is literally eating bird poo.

Day in the life eh.

Anecdotes aside, and there are MANY, a job where you help kids, and shape their experience of school and learning (which can be so tricky for so many), feels so important. It is draining though - even as a lowly TA, there's no such thing as going to work and having an 'off day'. It's 'performance mode' from 8am. Equal parts rewarding and challenging. A job I truly love. But, writing this at the start of a new term, if I see ONE more laminating pocket, I will SCREAM.

Miss Lamb, signing off.