The opener of doors

The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

I always saw myself as a trusting sort of person.  My friend Pippa once told me, when I asked, that in order to get the family caravan out of the garden they took it to pieces and walked it through the garage, bit by bit.  Because she is such a lovely person I, even though I was a particularly wet-behind-the-ears seventeen, believed her.  I always want to believe the best of people, to think that they are worthy of my trust.  I am always surprised when life turns around and doesn’t behave the way I expect.

But despite my general trust in my fellow humans, I have to admit, and I write this with a certain sense of unease, that I don’t actually feel the same way about my children’s teachers.  My mum thinks I’m completely bonkers.  To her mind, teachers are the professionals, and I should be happy to…

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