Listening to a woman moaning on the radio that her kid (who will graduate from University with a first class degree) cant get a job in KFC because he has no experience.
Well, my little friend, that is because you didn't encourage him to work as a kid. You probably bought his phone, and his clothes and his nights out. Otherwise he'd have five years experience by now.
Then you encouraged him to go to University, an entirely pointless exercise in an economy that is flooded with useless graduates for jobs that don't exist.
And now you bemoan the lack of possibilities supplied by others for your special son.
In this brave new world he is going to have to make the opportunities happen. He will need to learn to hustle; Get gardening, get grafting, get dirty, volunteer, do the dodgy stuff, understand the real world.
Because one thing is for sure, my delicate wall flowers, the world is not going to give you a job.
You need to understand where the demand is, and supply it. Just as it ever was.
80% of Universities need to reverting to trade polytechnics
Where is the figure skating finals? You’ve shown us very little of any of figure skating this year, at least stick to the schedule when you’re meant to @BBCSport@BBCTwo#BBCWinterOlympics
Where the hell is the skating pairs?? If we must pay the licence fee can we not have decent full coverage of all winter sports not just curling? #BBCWinterOlympics
feel like ilia malinin not landing all of those quads (and the rest of the athletes) fully just cemented that something must've been wrong with the ice bc ive never seen this many people fail their jumps before
Brand Beckham may be fake, but Brooklyn Beckham still cashed in on it. If he genuinely wanted authenticity he could have walked away at 18 and earned his own money; instead he waited until he secured someone else to bankroll his lifestyle to yap about independence.
@inquisitor111 @FirstBusUK I don't need to be told about the timetable I know exactly when the buses are MEANT to run my point is it doesn't run to timetable for the past 2 days, both days the bus has failed to stop
@FirstBusUK @firstbusglasgow 2nd day in a row the 205 failed to stop at Renton. You've reduced the service to once every 30 mins then cancel/drive past the bus stops with no reason in the winter when its raining & people rely on public transport. #crapcustomerservice
A message from a Kindergarten teacher:
After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:
“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”
No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”
My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.
When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.
But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.
My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.
And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.
They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.
The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”
As if kindness were a weakness.
Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”
Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.
But this last year broke something in me.
The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.
I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.
So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:
“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”
I sat on the floor and cried.
No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.
I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.
I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.
So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.
Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.
We have passports, driving licenses, NI numbers, we do not need a compulsory digital ID card, where information can be used to control or sold off to the highest bidder. Because if it can be it will be. An ID card will not stop the boats. That is another lie.
@AsdaServiceTeam what the hell is going on with your system?? Trying to pay for something online 5 different payment methods & all coming up with a problem. Either post it as out of stock or sort it out!! #CustomerServiceFail#gilmoregirls