So I was walking to my tutorial on Tuesday and carrying about 200 assignments and tests I had marked the previous week (don’t you dare scoff). The result: a stack of papers two and a half feet in height, cradled in my arms.

The students saw me. They pointed and laughed. I growled and threatened to fail their sorry asses. They laughed even more.

“I need my own goddamn assistant,” I mumbled to them, “who wants to be my TA?”.

And with that little joke, I waddled into the class, trying hard not to tip the stack of papers in my arms.

To: Phil
From: Student
Date: A few days ago
Subject: None

Hey, I was wondering if you wanted any help correcting some of the assignments. I saw you kind of overwhelmed with the assignments the other day and being the nice person I am, I want to help!

Cheers,
Student

Heeeeey! I get my own assistant! Can I get a secretary too? Anyways, I politely declined. The school would probably fire my ass for letting one of the students from the same class do the correcting.

Perhaps the single most uplifting thing in my life right now is the opportunity to teach other students. As soon as I walk into a room to lecture a class of 50 students, I can’t help but smile, laugh, and try and get them all excited about math. It’s the only time when I can truly be myself:

Today after the class one of the students walked up to me.

“I’ll see you next week”, I said.

She peered curiously at me for a second, the nodded emphatically.

“Do you know who you remind me of?”, she asked out of the blue, “Dr. House. You know, from the TV show?

I raised an eyebrow. “I remind you of a cranky, depressed medical doctor hopped up on Vicodin?”

“The way you teach the class. The constant sarcasm. The fact you absolutely love to see other people squirm. That silly smirk you always have on your face when you ask a question.”

I simply grinned.

How many of you actually see shiny silver stars, yellow smiley faces, sparkly rabbits, or (for only the best students) fuzzy horses on your Calculus and Algebra assignments?

That’s right, suckers. I’m the coolest TA around.

As some of you know, I’ve been hammering out the details with the administration at my former high school so that I could serve as an assistant lecturer, beginning this semester.

The deal was that I’d choose a couple math classes and lecture the students for a handful of times each week. I adore teaching — especially teaching math — and so in exchange for this delightful opportunity, I would spare the teachers several hours of hellish treatment at the mercy of the little delinquents.

I’d be disguised as a naive and attractive teacher, fresh from makin’ it through the slums of Brooklyn, looking to reform the educational system and inspire students to greatness. I’d hang my balls out there for their personal amusement, and they’d reward me by sucking out any youthful vitality and enthusiasm I’d be bringing to class.

It was a good deal. Then I got an e-mail from the Principal.

They want me to do what?

For one thing, I thought my English teacher hated me. I was snuffed out of the English award my final year, and, well..I’m a hardcore math geek. Most of us can barely string together coherent sentences and certainly our profession leaves little room for flexing our language muscles.

In fact, I’ve always been a bit shameful of my capacity for writing and my everyday parlance. My writing and speech capabilities are far from Shakespearean and in real life, I’m more like a Neanderthal than anything. A Neanderthal with a penchance for Sherry.

Anyways, I doubt I’ll be taking up the opportunity. What’s next? Phil teaching a cooking class?