Well, a college student on holiday, that almost always automatically spells temporary work. Not always though, there are always a few well-off enough to spend their holidays in idle, among them my cousin sister and one of my closest friend. Am I jealous? Of course! But that is the way of life isn’t it. Besides, I would not be doing much temporary work this holiday what with moving and my awkward part-time job schedule.

Still, I still find a temporary job as a substitute teacher. It is only for four days, starting today, 2/7/2013. The wage is RM200 for the four days. I thought that it would be easy pickings. After all, how much trouble can seven and eight-year-old schoolkids get into? Today, I am fully cured of my illusion. Children are not angels; they are demons, beings of pure evil!

Very well, I will tell you what happen to make you understand the seriousness of the matter. See, it is just my luck to be chosen to substitute for a teacher who is a discipline teacher. What is so bad about it, you might ask. Well, let’s see. As a discipline teacher, he definitely has less work to do, but not less daunting. Remember the children? The school gives him the worst of the lot because apparently he struck fear into their hearts and can command obedience. Unlucky me is (a) young, (b) inexperienced and (c) unknown to the children.

When I stepped into the class (which, by the way, is specially picked out to consist of the worst students), I was deafened by a dozen of the students clamouring to go to the toilet. After shouting for 5 minutes for them to sit down, I finally gave in and let them go together to the toilet in a line. At the same time, the counseling teacher came to grab her students and I gladly let her take them. Peace for a moment.

10 minutes later, the toilet-going students were back and again chaos ensues. Finally, they ‘settled down’ somewhat and I can finally start the lesson. I thought everything will be smoother now. Oh, how wrong was I!

I started with a spelling test as the teacher had set out. Immediately there are cries to repeat and hasten and slow down and everything in between. I tried to tell them that they will not hear any of my words if they keep on shouting but they seemed oblivious. I gave up. Ten minutes later, I finally got them to hand in the books. T

Then, I started in on the textbook. I will not continue with the tale of the numerous shouts and errors, only that by the time the class ended (one hour), I am already hoarse.

The children never listen. I say sit, they stand. I shout, they giggle. I kept quiet, they shouted. I am at my wits end. There is still three days of this torture. I wonder. Will I still have a voice by Saturday?