So... another back-at-work post, once more from behind a pile of Big Green Exercise Books.
I'm hiding or, perhaps, I am camouflaged. Blending in seamlessly with my academic surroundings, child's exercise book open on the desk in front of me, no one just has realised their mistake. No yet has spotted I am a fraud...
It astounds me that I am allowed to do this. I teach, stood at the front of the room, or wandering about making suggestions and corrections and, occasionally, fairly poor jokes. And all the time I am convinced I am about to be found out.
At some point there will be a knock at the door and all this will be over.
I've got the right degree, I've got the right teaching qualifications, I can talk the talk and generally I think I'm pretty good at what I do... But I'm blatantly not an adult. I'm a twenty something year old child.
I am playing hide and seek with my Head of Department, crouched behind the Big Green Books. How mature am I?
Why I wrote Disraeli Avenue for charity - The houses on Disraeli Avenue all looked the same, the same shape, the same size but behind each coloured front door there was a story, a secret, a need....
3 years ago