My mum used to teach History and has the steely death glare and sarcastic put-down to a fine art. I, on the other hand, am timid and polite and quiet, and small children walk all over me. I've been hoping for a long time that the teacher gene is within me and, like latent superhero powers, has been waiting for a moment of extreme stress to come to the fore - and last night, it happened.
I had to supervise touch-sparring by four small ones while Sensei took proper sparring with the rest of the class. Rather than tapping each other lightly on the hip and shoulder as they have been taught, they began to bitch-slap and push each other around and roll on the floor, while I tried ineffectually to maintain order and keep them from killing each other. Sensei had to come over and give them a talking to, and gave me a talking to too ("Just bollock them!"), and I was terribly stressed by the whole business.
As soon as Sensei's back was turned they started acting up again, and suddenly a voice I hadn't known I possessed issued from my diaphragm and told them to stop that! in a stentorian bellow.
Other educational epigrams soon followed:
"Did I say you could start?"
I finished with a "Yame!" ('Stop') so terrifying that the whole class turned round and looked at me: o.O
My mood of triumph was only spoiled when I discovered that a child I'd been referring to as 'she' for four months is actually a boy.
During the later class, Sensei asked a student with a bad knee if she had a strap on. I misparsed this dreadfully and started smirking. Sensei caught my eye and saw me smirking and knew why, and started smirking himself. I don't think anyone under twelve noticed.