Miss Myrtle

There's an old ( and derogatory ) adage that goes those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

Like seriously.

If you've ever tried to impart knowledge into lesser minds, you'd know that oft-repeated statement doesn't ring true. Teaching is far from easy. Takes more than a ruler and chalk to teach a pupil well. One of the reasons I've never thought of entering the teaching profession. With the little patience that I possess, I'd fail miserably.

Of course not everyone thinks the same.

Trusting in that faintly insulting adage, we have all sorts of doubtful creatures venturing into teaching. Hence the curious oddities I met along the way in college - from the seriously dull wallflower professors ( far more efficacious than sedatives ) to the bizarre freaks of nature you'd expect to find headlining the local travelling circus. Seriously. Aliens. From the fast-talking wannabe cow auctioneer we termed as How Bizarre ( from her real name Miz Hafizah ) to a slobbering slug of a sea-creature we fondly named Jabba the Hutt.

Not to mention the frightfully tall skeleton with beady evil eyes teaching Biology we called Wicked Witch of the West.


What the hell did they teach today?!
No matter how godawful I would be as a lecturer in the future, I doubt I'd perform quite as bad as the ones I had. Not even Hogwarts could find freakier professors to teach the Defence Against the Dark Arts.

And then there's the likes of Miss Myrtle. A faint apparition who waltzes into class in her pastel pashminas, bright bangles and glittery gauze. Flitting towards the board, Miss Myrtle then speaks to it in hushed, ethereal tones - possibly hoping that her bewildered students would be able to hear the faint echoes.

Student A : Could you repeat the question?
Myrtle : Whisper whisper mumble mumble.
Student A : Excuse me?
Myrtle : Yes? Of course, my child.
Student A : Could you repeat the question?
Myrtle : Whisper whisper mumble mumble.
Student A : What is she saying?
Student B : A lady doesn't raise her voice above a whisper, so Miss Myrtle doesn't.

Good to know. I was beginning to think I'd grown deaf.

While her students eventually gave up, an oblivious Miss Myrtle continued strong floating from one end of the stage to the other while waving her hands dramatically about the wonderfully mystical power of... mumble mumble...

Gosh I haven't the faintest idea.

Wonder whether Hogwarts needs a new Divination teacher.