It is a usual day. Sunny, bright. sweaty and hot.
It is the perfect day to torture students with a field trip to the new metro construction site. So much fun! Do you see my sentences dripping with sarcasm? I am sitting at the back seat of my rickety school bus. scribbling in this diary with my earphones jammed in; desperately trying to subdue the cacophony of pointless chit chat around me.
Oh what fun (not) it is to ride on a bus with children akin to canine strays!
I’am the substitute teacher. Been substituting for all the boring work them regular prissy teachers don’t want to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love children, really. Today, I don’t feel it. It could be PMS. We’ve reached the site. Finally! Write later.
The construction site was a hazard zone. The other teacher was busy flirting with the extremely good-looking manager, leaving ME to take charge of thirty five poltergeists disguised as children. I screamed, I shouted, I tried to be nice, the little brats were everywhere!
Now, you have to know that a construction site is unsafe when there is actual construction going on. Here, it was just barren land, a few concrete blocks, lots of dug up earth, forklifts and dust. “Nothing could go wrong here”, I thought to myself. Boy! Was I wrong? The attendee worker at the site began explaining to us the various nitty gritties. Why? How? When? etc. I was beyond bored and hungry. I counted the number if kids there, saw they were rapturously listening to the man in the helmet and decided to take a walk. Yes, my ulterior motive was to flirt a little too. Give me a break!
As I was walking towards the Site Manager’s swanky “hut”, I heard behind me a low rumbling. I didn’t really pay attention to it. The sound became louder, I turned and to my utter horror saw a forklift coming towards me. The speed of a powershift forklift is a whooping 22km/hr and this yellow truck was coming straight at me. I narrowly dodged it, said a volley of cuss words, the kind any beer guzzling truck driver would be proud of and screamed for the Manager. Prissy and him came running outside, saw the rogue cart and pelted towards it.
It was being driven by one of them kids. The men there stopped it, the kid was safe, the day was saved.
Prissy came marching towards me and started blaming me. Not being one to take a talking down, I gave her a mouth full too. You don’t mess with the underpaid substitute Miss!
We packed up, trooped into the bus and were heading back to school. We were all having ice creams when I spotted the kid who was solely responsible for ruining my day. I am of proud of what I did next. I went up-to him, pushed him a little and as expected his ice-cream fell.
The little pang of guilt that was erupting in me was quelled by the fact that He tried to hit me with a forklift!
Image fork-lifted from depositphotos.com.