Why I stopped teaching preschool kids

At the school where I work, there’s a little girl named Nancy. She’s so cute and sweet. About two months ago just before knocking off, I found her busy, trying to put on her shoes.

So I approached her, and offered to help. It was such a torrid time. The boots seemed to be smaller than her size. It took me 5 minutes to help her wear them. After taking a few steps away from her when we were done, she called me and said, “Teacher, you made me wear banana.” When I looked at her shoes, to my embarrassment, I realised I had misplaced her shoes - the banana style. Right leg on the left foot and left leg on the right.

It took me 3 minutes trying to take off the shoes again. After struggling so much I eventually managed to remove them and tried putting them on again, this time the correct way. However, it was more difficult than the first time.

When I finished, she said: “Teacher, these shoes are not mine!”
I really got angry, but since I work with little kids, I had to be patient and control my anger. I struggled to remove the shoes again. I then asked Nancy where her own shoes were and this is what she said:

“These shoes belong to my sister, my mum made me wear them in the morning today.”

This time I boiled in anger. But since I always do my job perfectly and wholeheartedly, I helped her to put on the shoes again. When we were done, Nancy pulled another shocker. “What about the socks, teacher?” she asked sweetly.

I wondered whether I should laugh or cry. At that point, I already had beads of perspiration forming on my forehead.

Politely and swiftly I asked her, “Where are the socks Nancy?”
She innocently replied: “I shoved them in my shoes, they are in front of my toes!”

I simply resigned and I’m now into farming