One of my earliest memories is of going to High School with one of my parents (I believe it was my father), they were teachers and I was off school/kindy/creche (no memory of my age) sick.
I mustn’t have been very sick though because there I was, sitting at the front of the class at my father’s desk, drawing. The gigantic students in their black woolen jumpers heckle me lightheartedly Are you our new teacher? Is she our new teacher, sir?
And I can remember very clearly feeling mortified, trying to ignore them, incandescent with embarrassment, and thinking furiously to myself Of COURSE I’m not. I’m OBVIOUSLY a small child. GOD.