let me compose myself first

I’m not what you might call an emotional man. I don’t know whether it’s the north antrimer in me, seeing emotion as weakness, or whether I just don’t feel as strongly about things as most people. But recently - as in the last couple of days - I have suddenly taken on the emotions and mood swings of a heavily pregnant woman.

Evidence 1: Yesterday I was reading in class. Private Peaceful. I knew how the story was going to end. I had been preparing the pupils through plot prediction and text indicators – but when I got to the final page, after the firing squad had done it’s duty, and the narrator described how the other soldiers came out of their tents slowly and stood to attention – I choked. I don’t think anyone noticed, and if they did they seemed to see it as part of my reading style - but it was definitely there.

Evidence 2: This morning, in assembly, the Principal told the school of an accident involving a pupil from another local school. There had been a crash as he was making his way to a school formal and he had died. Now road accidents are all too common in this country, especially at this time of year; I didn’t know the pupil personally, had never even heard of him until that moment – but hearing that news hit me much harder than similar news had ever done before.

Evidence 3: This morning again. My first class on a Thursday is my year 12 literature class. I have always loved the classes I have with them because they are a lovely bunch of people. Each very different. This morning, however, I slept longer than I should and then managed to puncture a tyre on route to the school. I was 20 minutes late and someone else had taken them to their classroom. When the bell went I was standing at my door as one of the class arrived, fixed me with an icy stare, and said “I think I’ll wait till the rest get here.”
As the rest of the class arrived one by one I actually felt terrible. It’s not as if I could have avoided missing the lesson but the fact that they were all coming to tell me off about it made me feel so disappointed in myself – why? It’s something that happens all the time. Ok, I missed the final lesson before the holiday but it’s no biggy – I’d never missed any of their classes before. So why did I feel sooo bad?

Evidence 4: They weren’t coming to tell me off. When they were all assembled outside my room one of them produced a card. It seems they think that, as their regular teacher may come back from illness after the holiday, they wanted to thank me and say goodbye properly. They stood for a while wishing me well and individually thanking me – partly I imagine to get out of part of their next lesson, but still.
And when they finally left so I could start my year 10s’ class it happened again. Huge waves of emotion crashing as I took a sneaky look at the comments. I loved the fact that they had forced in literary terms. Sure they'd used a lot of them incorrectly and completely out of context - where's the harm?

My unreal English skills are derivative of your unreal teaching... An UnB elysium lad... simply the epitome of the best...

I was a little worried, though, that one of them had chosen to illustrate 'bathos' with a drawing of a bath. Then two returned ten minutes later – this time almost certainly to waste a bit of their Biology class. It was sweet – but not so sweet that I should feel overwhelmed.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me? But it’s catching. I’ve seen three people in tears today - for varying reasons. My classes have been hyper – manic even. One minute over the top with enthusive joy, then next in the depths of despair. Is there something in the water? Either way it’d better be fixed soon – goodness only knows how embarrassing I would be if I won an Oscar.