I’d love to be a leader. I think that’s what a teacher is – leading the children to knowledge and thinking. I imagine that’s what I was feeling when I wanted to be a teacher.

But…..I’m too lazy to be a leader. Looking back from this advanced age, I see that my idea of teaching was spurred on by a game I played as a child with a group of friends. I was the teacher and they were the pupils. We played this game outdoors. Someone’s front porch steps was the classroom and the pupils sat on those steps. I stood on the pavement and ‘taught’.

In reality I found that I couldn’t just stand at the front and talk! I had to plan, I had to research, I had to know what I was doing before I started. That meant hours of preparations which, in the end, I wasn’t willing to put in and when I realised this, I quit teaching.

But, one must work for a living! The only thing I knew was teaching. So I became, what in England is called a supply teacher, after a few months of ‘leisure’.

The first school to ring me to come and teach was the school I had worked at for eight years! I can’t remember how long the job was for but I remember exactly which classroom was my base! It was next door to the room I had spent eight years in! and of course I knew all the kids, if not by name, at least by sight.

After that, I was happy to wait for the phone to ring offering me a job for a day or a week. But, when it rang about a day’s work, it was the high school next to the primary school I had worked in! Children who had passed through my hands previously were there, mixed with kids from other, nearby areas. I had heard some terrible things about that school and accepted the job with trepidation.

I was asked to take over the work of a male teacher, Mr. L…… The classes were, for the most part, quite easy – I had been left a few ideas by the missing teacher. But, the last class of the day was a huge group of three senior boys. There was no work left for them and I soon discovered why – they wouldn’t do any work!

The boys included Simon K. who had been in my class in two different years – as a 7 year old then as a 9 year old. He had shown little promise at either age and he had carried on misbehaving and not doing any real work through the intervening years. He and the other two spent the entire hour talking to each other, reminding each other about terrible things they had done to animals and things they were planning to do. Obviously they were trying to upset me. They did, but I didn’t let them see and, though the hour was very l_o_n_g, it finished and I was able to leave them behind. Happily, I never had to take that particular class again.

For about five years I spent quite a bit of time at that high school and most of it was okay. One time I was given a whole term’s work (approximately 12 weeks) with a group of what I seem to remember were called ‘first years’, meaning their first year in secondary school. (Nowadays they’re called year 7s as this is their seventh year in school.) I really enjoyed that term and the pupils were, on the whole, really nice. Another time, I was asked to stand in for one of the teachers who taught French. I was pleased to do her lessons, because I had studied French for many years. Sadly, that particular teacher was also a vice principal/head and her teaching hours were mostly Music.

I’m a great music lover! After all, I was around when Elvis made his first record, when the Beatles and Rolling Stones took England by storm, and when Lou Reed, David Bowie, Madness, Marc Almond, The Eurythmics, and so many more were at the top of the hit parade! But, I don’t play an instrument and can’t sing!

I searched the Music Room for help. I found a set of records (yes, it was in the days of vinyl) which came with booklets of words. The idea was to learn the songs while singing along. The idea was great, but…..the pupils had a different outlook on ‘music lessons’. To them it was a time to chat among themselves, to eat a snack, to write on the blackboard, to drive their poor teacher insane!

Luckily not all of the jobs I had during those years were so stressful! I was asked by a girl’s school in Maidstone to teach French, part time for a year. I really enjoyed that year. I worked half the week and had the other half free. There was only one class which I found difficult. It was called something like, ‘French Language and Customs’ and was for the older girls who had not done well in French in the preceding years. Most of the teaching was about living in France, how it was similar and how it was different from life in England. Because the girls weren’t at all interested in learning about people in other countries, it was very difficult to motivate most of them.

When I left teaching for good I had already become an ‘antique dealer’. For that job, I was willing to do what was necessary and to put in hours that were hard, interesting, even educational. I loved going to auctions and sticking my hand up to buy certain lots. Mostly I went to ‘general auctions’ which have many lots, mostly of second hand things that few people want – second hand beds, table and chair sets, wardrobes, dressing tables etc and with no age. Occasionally I would find something I wanted and I was often prepared to stand around waiting for that lot/those lots to come up.

I once went to an auction in a town too far for me to drive to. I went on the train, found the one lot i wanted and realised it wouldn’t come up until late afternoon! I spent the time walking into the nearby village, eating a quick sandwich, walking more, hanging around the lot I wanted and, finally it came up. The auctioneer asked for bids of £50. I waited. (Often, at this point, if he gets no bid, he will ask for bids of, say, £30.) someone bid £50. I bid £60. The other bid £70, I bid £80 and so it went on. Only one other person wanted those jigsaws as much as I did! We went on, and on and were soon at £500! I decided I couldn’t go higher than £600. He went to £700 and that was the end of my bidding. I felt so sad and down!

I waited for Julian. He doesn’t mind driving long distances. I had rung him earlier asking him to come and, eventually, he arrived. Of course, not having a huge box of jigsaws to take home, I could have just taken the train but I had assumed I would win that lot! So, home we went.

I suppose, in some ways, I was leading in that job. My website did what I wanted it to, my photographs fitted the space on the page, the jigsaws (all wooden and fifty or more years old) often sold for pleasing amounts of money. I had to stop doing my job as purveyor of old jigsaws when I couldn’t outbid other bidders. Other people realised they could make money with selling old jigsaws on the internet.

By then I was around 70 and decided to stop. That was the end of that ‘career’ – my most enjoyable career. I don’t really care if I am a leader or not. It’s really nothing I have had thoughts or feelings about. And, I’m still lazy!