So why did I want to go teaching? Well, the answer is, I really don't know. Financial reward? Glamorous lifestyle? Promotion opportunities? Not exactly.

There wasn't any real defining moment when I decided to teach. Mind you, a certain Daffodils poem by Wordsworth was a good impetus. On a humanitarian level, I did feel it my duty to do all I could to prevent the spread of that offensive poem. A self-made promise never to inflict it on any living creature for the rest of my life probably spurred me on to this career path.

When I admitted my interest in teaching, my friends were overwhelmingly supportive: "You're not serious!" You're mad!" "Do you think you won't get anything else, or what?" That's a selection of the more positive comments that came flying my way. It was a decision that seemed incomprehensible to them at a time when well-paying jobs were beginning to ride in over the horizon.

Inspired by their enthusiasm and encouragement, with my mala scoile on my back, I enrolled in the higher diploma in education course at UCD anyway. So, this year I will develop a split personality if I haven't already got one. I will be a teacher in the morning at St Mary's Secondary School in Killester and a student at UCD in the afternoon.

Previously I had worked as a substitute teacher. Working as a substitute is a great introduction to teaching. Your first day in a new class as a substitute teacher is akin to being a hare at a coursing meeting, faced with 30 greyhounds. In the student scheme of things, tormenting substitute teachers is as compulsory as learning Irish.

If you survive the substitute-teacher initiation and still want to teach, chances are (a) you're mad or (b) you may actually be suited to the job.

Nevertheless, there is something utterly satisfying about working with human beings rather than computers all day, even if those human beings are sometimes lazy, awkward and downright infuriating at times.

On the flip side, the self-same students can be insightful, entertaining and receptive to new ideas. Their diversionary tactics are particularly strong on Friday afternoons when they don't want to work. They have profoundly fertile imaginations, unmatched by any other section of the population, especially when it comes to developing excuses or avoiding work. On the whole, for people who would rather be elsewhere, usually they resign themselves to their lot with good humour.

In teaching you are more or less your own boss, which I like. While that confers a certain amount of freedom, you still have enormous responsibility to give it your best shot. You're very aware that at the end of the day there are 30 people depending on you, even if they don't realise it. There's a good balance between autonomy and responsibility.

There are many lovable eccentricities peculiar to the profession. These manifest themselves in staffrooms the length and breadth of the country. Let us begin with mugs.

Teachers, as a race, do not adopt the Care Bears philosophy of "Sharing is Caring" when it comes to mugs. They would sooner saw off their own arms or legs than part with a mug. Swapping seats is strictly taboo also. Contrary to popular belief, musical chairs is not played in staffrooms.

Achtung! You must not, on the peril of your life: (a) use another teacher's mug; (b) sit on a seat that is not your designated seat; (c) eat any foodstuff which is liable to pollute the general atmosphere after lunch. These rules are taken from the well known but unwritten manual of Staffroom Etiquette adhered to in all schools.

On the serious side, teachers are much maligned and undeservedly so. As a profession, teaching comes in for very bad press. Media focus rarely, if ever, falls on the many talented, hardworking and exceptional individuals who make up the profession. I am training with teachers of 20 years' standing whose dedication to the students is as strong as ever, as is their sense of humour.

Teaching is not valued in Ireland, though. It is called a "vocation". True enough, nobody goes into it for the money, but that's no reason to accede to exploitation either. As trainee teachers, the State doesn't see fit to grant us even a trainee's wage.

If I were a trainee hairdresser, mechanic or barperson, I would be earning more than I do as a trainee teacher. When I qualify will I be earning the equivalent of my peers? Not a hope. And yet the Government expects to recruit quality teachers? I know we're good, Minister, but not so good that we can live on air.