Handwriting of a wimpy teacher

I realize there is one side of me I rarely talk about but over the coming week, I hope to spend some time punching out notes/blogposts about it.
I can’t really recall when it was that I first stood to teach any group or individual. By the way my mom is a retired Nigerian teacher, we have seen the worst of the mud that comes with it. The government muds you up, you may die begging for your gratuity. Fellow teachers mud you up and even you have the worst mud-freak students one can pray against in public schools where mom taught.
I remember mom had a small shop once, she sold all sorts of a things and books too. I once started a school in front of the shop, even though relatively then I was still in my “dullard” days yet I never saw anything wrong in manning a chalk and board “at least that’s how my teachers got their Jobs”, mechanical engineers who couldn’t clinche the oil company Jobs and all they needed to prove was that they were not allergic to chalk dust. Anyways that aside, my school was up and running and I sure did use those kids sore, I taught them all my dullard head would allow. Come end of term I set them exams and everyone got prizes even “the dullest”. I personally detested the fact that only the box-heads were called up for prizes every school term end. Was it such a crime to just want to roll around in dirt all day, or to pick fights under desks with the girls while the teacher rants alphabets? come on!! give those students a break. The worst part of the deal was that few of those teachers knew how to write. One in particular would use his wooden 1m rule to guide the chalk, he told us we needed to watch the perfect regularity of his writing, in reality his chalk was always running in diagonals!!!

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