“If You Can’t Do It, Teach It”

It was the year 2003. I had worked as a plasterer for 30 years. I had put tons of plaster on many walls and ceilings. Most of the time, I used sand, lime, and cement, or light plasters like Carlite Browning.

One day, while finishing a ceiling, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. It hurt a lot. I went home, took some pain medicine, and thought it was just a pulled muscle. The next day, I tried to go to work again. But the pain got worse. I could not do any plastering.

I saw my doctor. He told me I had torn the tendons in my shoulder. He said I might not be able to plaster again. I didn’t believe him. After a few weeks of rest, I felt better and tried small jobs at home. But the pain always came back. I had to accept it—the doctor was probably right.

One morning, while driving my wife to work, she asked, “What are you doing today?” I said, “I’m going to the job center to see if I can become a teacher.”

At the job centre, I told the advisor I wanted to teach. She asked what qualifications I had. I said, “None—just 30 years of plastering.” Luckily, there was a program called Restart. It helped people like me start a new career. She called the local college, and the next day I had an interview.

The college gave me a part-time teaching job. But I had to get my teaching qualifications in two years. I needed NVQ Level 2, Level 3, Maths and English (grade C or better), a teaching certificate, and an assessor award. If I passed, I would get a full-time job. The college paid for my studies.

There is a saying: “If you can’t do it, teach it.” But I say: “You think you know it all? You know nothing!”

The first two years were very hard. I had to write essays about Equality, Diversity, and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I didn’t understand most of it. My essays were sent back many times. But I didn’t give up. After two years, I passed and got the full-time teaching job.

Teaching was not easy. The college was in a tough area. Many students had bad attitudes. They didn’t respect teachers. I worked with two other tutors who were also ex-plasterers. We were new teachers. Almost every week, one of us was shouted at or threatened.

One day, I saw some students playing cricket in the workshop. I told them to stop. One boy got angry and raised his fist. He said, “I’m going to punch your lights out.” I said, “Go ahead—hit me!” He didn’t. He walked away, calling me names.

The room went quiet. One student asked, “Weren’t you scared?” I said, “If he really wanted to hit me, he would have.”

After that, the students gave me a nickname: “The Big Fat Bald Bastard.” I laughed. I wore it with pride.

First-year students often tested me. One day, I was having a bad day. A student rolled a paper ball and looked like he might throw it. I snapped. I said, “If you throw that, I’ll jump over the desk and break your neck!”

The class went silent. The boy backed off. When the lesson ended, I said sorry to the class. But the students said, “We didn’t hear anything.” They had my back. I had earned their respect.

Funny enough, that same student became one of my best.