The little scary ones

When my Managing Editor first broke the news to me yesterday that I had to do a presentation for 160 school kids on how my magazine works, I freaked out. 160 freakin' primary school children! No joke that, I tell you.

And suddenly, I was plummeted back into the days when I was doing relief teaching at a tuition centre.

I remember this one particular class I had to take. The lady who called me said, "It's a one-hour class, but you know how it is. The effective teaching time would be about half an hour." I wondered why. And now I wonder why I wondered why.

The class had about 15 kids. Handling 15 kids is not a problem. Handling 15 hyperactive 7-year-olds is! The younger they are, the more difficult it is to control them and get them to listen. They don't quite have a mind of their own, and yet they do. (Did I make sense there?)

The class was from 12:30 - 1:30 pm. Here's how it went.

12:30 pm
I enter the class. The kids stand up, "Good morning... "
Suddenly they froze as they realised that they were greeting a complete stranger.
"Who are you?" one of them asked.
"I am your replacement teacher for today."
"What happened to Miss Chan?"
"Errr... Miss Chan is getting married. She won't be teaching you anymore."
"But why?"
"Errr... I don't know..."
"Okay."

12:35 pm
I surveyed the classroom. It was not very big. I had a desk and chair to myself, and there was a huge table, around which the kids sat.

"Okay everyone, settle down. I'll take attendance now." I said.
The kids ran around the table for a while.

12:45 pm
The kids finally settled into their chairs. While taking attendance, I called out, "Chester!"
"Present..." came the reply. From under the table!
I peeped under the table, and there was young Chester, grinning away.
"Come out, Chester."
"Why, miss?"
"Because... all your friends are outside."
"Can't I sit here?"
"No, you can't. Come out now."
"Why not, miss?"
I made my way under the table and put on my "stern teacher face". (Yes, I have one.)
"Well, you can't. Come out. NOW!"
Chester meekly crawled out. The others started giggling.

12:55 pm
"Phew!" I went back to my desk. I sat down and looked up. Suddenly the class looked weirdly empty.
"Where are the others?" I asked.
They started giggling again.
One of them pointed under the table.
So I had to go and look under the table again. There they were, six imps, hitting each other with stretched rubber bands.
I pulled them all out.

1:00 pm
They were all in their chairs. Finally.
One boy shot his hand up, "Miss, I need to go to the toilet."
"Ok. Be quick."
"Me too!" Another hand.
"And me!" One more.
"One at a time, okay? One at a time." I said between gritted teeth.

1:05 pm
I started teaching.

1:25 pm
"Blah... blah... blah... and blah. Any questions?"
A hand shot up.
"Yes?"
"May I go to the toilet now, Miss? He is back."
"Okay, you may. So, any questions?"
"I have one!" This fidgety little boy raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"Miss, are you married?"
"Wha... ask me questions about the topic I am teaching, okay?"
"Yes, but are you married?"
"No, I am not."
"Miss, do you have a boyfriend?"
I am sure even if I had said I was married, he would have asked me the second question anyway!
"Okay, ask me questions only about what is written on the whiteboard, okay?"
"Okay, Miss, why does the whiteboard have the wrong date? Today is the 15th, not 14th. Hehehehehe!" Everyone starts giggling. I try not to pull my hair out.

1:30 pm
Class is over. I almost get run over by the herd of galloping kids.

Sayesha slumps into her chair and vows never to teach a class of 7-year-olds again.