PRISON MAY BE LOOMING…

I know how the dog feels.

When I decided to leave my job as prosecutor and become a law lecturer I was excited about training young lawyers to be ethical and passionate truth-seekers who approach the job with humility and objectivity.

Aah, what laughter erupts when I think of my plans back then. Kekekeke…

Look, nothing about this job comes naturally to me, I don’t know how teachers do it, those people are not human. They should be paid laughable amounts of money and when we walk in the street and see a teacher we should undress and throw our clothes at their feet to prevent their shoes from touching ground.

There are two things about lecturing university students that I adore. Dealing with the really bright medal chasers and dealing with the students on the other end of that spectrum. The medal chasers challenge you and show passion and think deeper and remind us why we chose law. The students who struggle remind me why I chose to go back to university.

Nothing brings me greater pleasure and satisfaction than sitting with a student who struggles. Nothing is more rewarding than taking those students’ hands and walking them baby steps to the point where they realize the wonders of rules and laws and breaking them and defending them and standing up for the downtrodden.

Ask any teacher, I’m almost completely certain they will all tell you that bringing a young mind to light is the greatest of privileges.

But then there are those students who simply don’t give one ounce of alpaca shit. They don’t give a single thought to the soul-crushing fees that keeps them at university and they are certainly not concerned about the quality of their work or whether they learn anything before taking part in that graduation ceremony. Class attendance is beneath them because how will they achieve fame and following if they waste their time listening to me moan about how to be a little lawyer. I mean, like, all you need is, like, you know, Suits...

And if this type of student was just happy about failing and moving on to something they really love, I’d be tickled lilac. But no. When – at the end of the bloody semester – they realize that their marks are cold water against the Ebola virus, they begin their psychological warfare. They get out every excuse, every angle of begging, every threat and every sad story they can conjure up to get you to give them marks. Note…not give them opportunities…just give them marks.

Then I’m like, listen Suzy, aunty Agatha is not here to hand out marks like face masks at a church event, I’m here to teach you…

I don’t know how teachers do it. Day in, day out. With patience and love and dignity. How do you put in so much effort and keep going when so many don’t care?

Me? I will need bail money soon!

Enough ranting for one night. Off to make some chococ…off to pour some wine…

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