From our online staffroom: Readers suggest you know you are a teacher when: Out in public you feel the urge to snap your fingers at children you do not know and correct their behaviour.
You can tell if it's a full moon without ever looking outside.
You don't want children of your own because there isn't a name you could give your child that wouldn't elevate your blood pressure.
You encourage your spouse by telling them they are a "good helper".
You know 100 good reasons for being late.
You refer to adults as "boys and girls".
You think caffeine should be available in intravenous form.
You want to slap the next person who says,"must be nice to work from 8 to 3 and have your summers free!"
Your personal life comes to a screeching halt at report time.
You've had your profession slammed by someone who would never dream of doing your job.
You correct your other half when he uses poor grammar.
You talk in bullet points rather than sentences.
You find yourself saying to friends and relatives "do this, then that, and finally do this".
You accuse anyone telling you something of being a telltale.
You are allergic to the jaw movement involved in the chewing of gum.
You hate water bottles and start to think of hamsters when you see one You gradually lose the capacity to write in joined-up writing for fear of someone not being able to read it.
You cringe when people ask you what you do for a living.
You realise you are well and truly toilet timed.
You put your hands on your hips and say,"Excuuuuuuuse me!", to your partner (he loves that, although he won't admit it).
You will use a mug with live things living in it due to time pressure.
For evermore you will be able to repeat "Miiissssss", with perfect intonation, duration and stress.
You go to your own kids' school functions and really want to enjoy them, but just end up feeling like you are at work. Am I just a bad, bad mummy?
Your husbandkidsfriends do something that you disapprove of and you give them "the look."
You won't start to talk at home until everyone has stopped and is listening.
You start to mark stuff in letters written by your family to the phone company.
You find that, even when you're making a casual suggestion, you do it in a tone of voice that makes people snap to it.
You say 'Sit!' to the dog - and everyone in the room does so immediately.
You need to fight the impulse to shout at kids in the street for wearing hats.
You go to a parents' evening for your own child and the teacher has made notes so that they can qualify the level your child is working at and can give clear examples of your son's behaviour.
Any request is preceded by "what I'm looking for is . . . "