Tutoring: For Teachers Who Can't Handle Classrooms...

Up until this year, I was convinced that my destiny was to become an English teacher. Not because I liked teaching, but because I LOVED my subject. I love reading, I love writing and I love talking about the things I’ve read.

However, I soon discovered that my fatal flaw would throw one almighty spanner in the works. This hamartia was my severe dislike of secondary school students. I can handle them in a one on one situation, but around their friends, people change. I knew that I didn’t have the patience or the incentive to deal with a moody teenager convinced that their year six SAT’s equate to more than any degree. They annoyed me in secondary school; they’ll annoy me if I try to teach them.

Much to my mother’s dismay, I cancelled my work experience at a secondary school, and applied for a writing position with my university newspaper. What I didn’t do, was disable my account with www.tutorhunt.com. While I didn’t want to be a teacher, I did need to make some money. So I left the profile on there, and secretly hoped no one would want to hire me.

Eventually though, someone did. Tutoring, as it turns out, isn’t so hard. I’m not dealing with an entire classroom, and through hiring me, the student is admitting, that no, they don’t know all there is to know. It’s the perfect compromise. I get to spend more time around a subject I love, and most importantly, I get paid. So far, I’ve tutored at both a primary school level, and at A2. At £10 an hour, I don’t make a lot. But it’s a lot better than working at a football stadium, with greasy burgers and rancid hotdogs for £6.10 an hour.

Apparently I do have a passion for teaching, and I can deal with students in small doses. For anyone who’s considering going into the teaching profession, I would recommend tutoring. That way, you can earn while you figure out whether or not it’s actually for you.

For now, I’m going to keep on tutoring. I don’t want to be a teacher, but I do like teaching. Eventually, I will need to get a ‘proper job’, and tutoring will take the back seat. But until then, I’m enjoying what I do, and I intend to keep doing it.
The average rate for an experienced tutor is about £20 an hour. Highly experienced teachers can charge so much more, but I don’t think I’ll ever do that. £15 an hour will be the most I ever charge. If I’m still doing it at the end of my 2nd year, I’ll re think going into teaching. Unless of course, my dislike of arrogant students get to me too much. We’ll have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading, and if you liked this blog, be sure to come back and read my others. There’s sure to be lots to write about this summer, and I intend to have an opinion on it all.

Comedy Clubs or Arena Shows?

I don’t know anyone who isn’t a fan of comedy. We all like to laugh and so we all like people who make us laugh. Before going to the Big Night Out comedy club, the only comedians I had seen where those who were lucky enough to perform in the O2.

So what can these comedy clubs offer me that an arena show can’t? When my friend and I entered the club, there was a certain ambience that you just won’t get in the larger venues, like the Apollo, or Wembley. It took forever and a day to be served at the bar, but you can’t blame the club itself for that. These are hard times, and not everyone can afford to employ the full amount of bar staff they need. The drinks themselves were great, if you drank from the “happy hour” cocktails. If not, be prepared to take out a second mortgage because those drinks are OVER PRICED (£4.90 for a Smirnoff Ice? Its lemonade!). The happy hour cocktails are nice though, and cheap, so that shouldn’t be a problem for many people.

The show itself was held in a small section of the club, with room for 50 people, 60 at a push. A venue like this one was made for hecklers, which did get a bit tiresome after a while. Don’t get me wrong, hecklers are entertaining, but we’ve all paid to see the comedians. At the show I went to, it was apparent who’d been at the bar all evening. One woman from the back yelled nonsense at everyone on stage, to the point where I wished someone would just throw her out. At larger shows, hecklers are less common, simply because no one would be able to hear them. That and the fact standing in front of a sold out O2 gives a performer a certain authority.

There is no such authority to be had in basement in London. Fortunately the performers came prepared, Rob Collins in particular. It takes true comedic skill to deal with a drunken heckler without so much as missing a beat, a skill you don’t see so much in larger shows.

As much as I enjoyed my night at the comedy club I wouldn’t pay the full price to go there. I got my tickets through a voucher site, so for me and a friend it cost £20. This included the show, a free drink each, a big back of Dorito’s to share and access to the “Disco” after the show. If I had paid the full price for all of this, I’d have been £68 poorer. It was a great night, but it wasn’t worth that much. That’s just my opinion though. Other people there probably did pay the full price, and will do again.

Leicester Square, Big Night Out Comedy Club.
Host : Chris Gilbert.
Set List: Phil Dinsdale
Rob Collins.
Bob Mills.
http://www.bignightout.info/LeicesterSquareComedy.html

That friend I mentioned happens to have a blog of her own, which any theatre lover should take the time to check out. Go go go!
http://westendepilogue.blogspot.co.uk/

Burlesque dancing. Sleazy striptease or flirty workout?

There’s always been something about burlesque dancing that appealed to me. Those sexy stockings, taking glove off with your teeth. Sexy as I thought burlesque dancing was, I thought it looked a bit seedy. Weren’t they just glorified strippers? For that reason, I never took my curiosity any further.

Until now. I was recently on one of those voucher websites, and I saw discounted burlesque lessons. They promised a good time, a good work out and, most importantly, no nudity. At £35 for 6 lessons, I had no excuse. I called a friend to talk me into it. When she pointed out that no one could make me do a striptease, I booked the lessons, and then fretted over what exactly I’d gotten into. I should have been fretting over how to explain to my mum what I was doing of a Tuesday evening.

“Err mum, I’m going out on Tuesday.”

“Okay, where are you going?”

“Dance lessons…”

“Oh? What kind?”

“Err, Burlesque.”

The look on her face was priceless. She looked like a woman whose daughter had just explained that she wanted to be a stripper. Which I suppose was appropriate.
When my first lesson finally came around, I was a little nervous. I thought I would either be surrounded by supermodels who wanted a new way to make people swoon, or old women who wanted to recapture the glory days. Or lord was I joining a troupe of granny strippers?

Apparently not. Most women there, like me, where just curious. Or they were looking for a work out. None of us it seems, where there to get naked. After thinking up of our stage names, (I’m now Mimi Messalina), we got started.

When I started, my arms where folded, and my eyes were glued to the floor. Within 20 min I had my head held high and I was strutting my stuff with the best of them. I got most of the moves wrong at least once, but hey, at least I was doing it. It didn’t matter that I was in worn out Primark pumps, or that my socks had cupcakes on. I felt just as sexy as Rihanna but, you know, with clothes on.

There’s no need for Dita to quake in her boots yet, but I’ll let you know if I get there. I’m on the course for 6 weeks, and I intend to keep blogging about it. Wish me luck everyone!