Back at school, I was put on playground duty. I tried to stalk round the playground exuding authority, but I’ve never been good at exuding. After a few minutes, a girl approached me and asked me if I was new. I said I was. “Are you lonely?” she asked. “No, I’m busy,” I answered curtly. “You can be my friend if you haven’t got any other friends,” she told me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t a pupil, I was a teacher. “You’re not a teacher!” she laughed. The next day I dropped out of college. This six-year-old girl knew me better than I knew myself. I wasn’t a teacher and I was really lonely.
