Once school ended and I was back home, my job search fizzled. Living rent-free with my parents, chowing down on their food and driving their car when I needed it was not ever to be a long-term reality. It was, however, nice to be their pampered son again.

I declined a couple positions in the ultra north where the pay would be great, but living conditions a test of character and commitment. The job I did get came unexpectedly out of the blue.

An established independent school in my undergraduate city was looking for an intermediate teacher who could handle History, English and related subjects. This was almost the last week of summer and they, no doubt, were desperate to have staff in place. It sounded perfect.

One week later I was decorating a classroom and gathering resources. I rented an apartment close by and, thanks to my dad, had a beast of a car to drive: his faithful Ford Galaxy 500 would be my ride for the next few years. The learning curve indeed was steep and what I recall most of all from those early years was my utter exhaustion.