Uncertain? Unsure? You bet.  I was in front of the first class I had ever taught. in a draughty mobile classroom at Acle High School, Norfolf.  All on my own.  What was going to happen?

This little story began back in December 1982 when I suddenlt realised that I'd always known what I wanted to do - teach.  Everyone had always said I could find a "better" job - but as soon as I though about it carefully I knew it was what I'd always been destined to do.

So, here I was on my own, nearly a year later, in front of a class of Twenty six Year 8 students.  It was the lesson immediately after morning break, and I'd been getting more and more nervous.  We'd done "practices" - but that was in front of other PGCE students and our tutor, not - gasp of horror - REAL children.

I'd heard the horror stories - seen some of them; imagined legions.  Classes running amok.  Teachers assaulted. Chaos.  Carnage.  What was going to happen?  I was totally outnumbered.  They could riot.  Run about.  Scream.  Rip books up.

So I walked into the room.  Their normal class teacher was in there.  She was calm, dependable, completely in control.  In fact, she was everything I wasn't.  In my memory, I'm standing there shaking, white-knuckled with nerves, dropping my folder, crashing into desks as I walked in.  That bit hasn't changed - I'm still dyspraxic.

The class teacher handed over to me, introduced me...and then went out.

It felt like being at the top of a set of rapids, or in the doorway of a plane about to jump.  I looked at the class.  They looked back at me; expectant, hopeful.  Nobody said a word.  Then, I realised.  The world was mine; I had my class, and they were waiting for me.  We could go anywhere...

It was the most wonderful feeling.  "Now, let's start.  Put your hand up if..."

I was off.  I've never looked back.  I'm enjoying is as much today, thirty years later, as I did then - if not more so.  It's my vocation.  My metier.  It's teaching.