Today I experienced my first day of tertiary education at the Chisolm Institute of TAFE in Frankston. I had some of what you’d call classic first-day nerves, and 30 minutes into my first class, they didn’t stop there. This is because the doofus or so-called ‘teacher’ taking this particular class didn’t impress me at all. My first impression of him was that he looked like a slug. That, and he wasn’t very good at what he did. My overall impression of him now remains unchanged; he’d be much better at being a slug than he will ever be at attempting to inspire young minds. If one looks like a slug and acts like a slug, then by common denomination, one must be a slug. This involves identifying oneself not with a human but a slug, living not like the humans do, but – you’ve said it – like a slug.

Anyway. If this first teacher of mine is a slug – his name, for the record, is David – then my next teacher is a refreshingly agile monkey, swinging spritely from the treetops. Well, not exactly. He’s not that youthful (in fact, he’s probably older), but he is a far leap from a slug. He’s one of those teachers that manages to engage, to humour and to enthuse all in one. His eyes, unlike the slug’s, have a spark. His voice also has a spark. He’s not a bottom-heavy, curiously slow, sloth-like moron. He’s a teacher, an actual teacher, not a slug pretending to be fit for the job. Oh, and did I mention that today was the slug’s first day of ‘teaching’ at Frankston TAFE? Once a slug, always a slug.