I was a strange child. I used to line up my soft toys and call each of their names, requiring a clear, polite response from Ted (the Original), Bluey, Teddy-Freddy et al, before I made the appropriate, exactly angled mark or big fat zero in my register. And only then could I start with the dinner money collection and checking their feet for verrucas. So passed many blissful, productive hours. But I’d tired of teaching by the time I was nine, weary of hard-to-engage stuffed animals, who deliberately disrupted Action Man and Tressy’s learning , by falling over during spelling.

Some – ahem- thirty-five years later, I have finally ventured back into teaching. Sort of. Last Tuesday, I began to Prepare to Teach in the Lifelong Learning Sector. PTLLS. The snazzy acronym clinched it.

Having rediscovered the joys of creative writing at uni – the satisfaction of finding exactly the ‘right’ word – I want to pass this happiness on. Generous of me, I know.  I’d love to work with ‘excluded’ groups: to invite them to come on in and join me and lots of nice other people in the world of creative writing. But I realise there may actually be some special skills involved in engaging and inspiring students, over and above reading from the encyclopaedia in a posh voice. So I am going to pick up some tips at college. (Interesting fact , which is already driving my family mad:  ‘college’ and ‘knowledge’ rhyme).

Whether I’ll  press forward to get a teaching qualification, or will stop when I know enough to feel confident in running informal sessions, time will tell. But because of my terrible early professional experiences, I’ll be sticking with real, live, grown-up pupils of the human variety, who, hopefully, find themselves before me out of choice and not because I’ll shut them in the toy box if they don’t feign interest.

We haven’t covered much, yet, but I think that’s a stick and we’re aiming for carrots.