Before I was a teacher, I had a rather unconventional career. Let's just say my colleagues weren't the sort of people you'd invite round for Sunday lunch unless you didn't mind them checking where you kept the silverware. I spent years surrounded by boxers, bookmakers, gangsters and blokes who thought a handshake was legally binding until someone found a bigger gun. Every day was another brilliant plan that unravelled before breakfast, usually because somebody with the IQ of a traffic cone decided to improvise. You learn a lot in that line of work. Mainly that luck's got a twisted sense of humour, and common sense is surprisingly rare. I got very good at talking my way out of trouble, mostly because running wasn't always an option. Eventually I fancied a quieter life. So naturally, I became a teacher. Turns out negotiating with armed criminals wasn't all that different from managing a classroom full of teenagers. The only real difference is the paperwork's worse now.