"The problem is that you take on too much work. You need to give yourself a break."

I could really see his point.

Every day, my teacher would ask if I was okay, and every time I would get angry. Mostly due to my denial, but also it got repetitive. I didn't want to believe that I took on too much – it didn't feel like too much. It felt good, fun, and only a bit tiring sometimes, but not often.

"I keep my eye on you. I really like you, I care, but I can see you do too much and the tiredness affects you so much," he said, looking at me with concern. "There is not much I can do but try and help."

This time he held me behind after my lesson. We got an exam result back and I had only got an A, so I was stressed. Then some girl behind me started going on about how she wished I could move my head so she could see. It was said with a bit of frustration, and on a good day it wouldn't had bothered me, but I was already stressed so I couldn't help it.

I said nothing to her, but my face went red and anyone can look at me and see I've been bothered by something. It was a talent.

"So, go on Phil, how much sleep do you get?" he asked.

"5 hours a night I'd say, 2 till 7 am," I replied. I was often asked that question by my mum, who was concerned. She never wanted me to be so busy, it was just how I liked it.

"What do you do till then? You need more sleep then that."

"Well," I began, preparing my speech which I've repeated to my mother many times previously. "I am in school till 4. Then I walk to the café for work, which starts at half 4 and ends at about 6. After that I walk home, cook tea, and eat it, which is until half 7. Till half 8 I go to chess club. Then I get home, do homework, study, make food for lunch the next day, shower, sleep."

It didn't sound like much, but it was all worthwhile in my head. I was not out doing drugs like most people my age, so why would people have problems?

"Oh. I also run a charity's social media accounts."

He smiled at me, almost in a proud way. He was a fairly young teacher, in his mid-thirties. For my entire senior school experience, he had been my geography teacher. Since starting the school, I cannot recall one time when he has told me off, even when blatantly breaking the rules. He would just smile, give out a little laugh, push his glasses further up his nose and carry on. Whenever he got angry with me, he would never yell like he did at the other kids. He would just look at me quizzically, pat his brown-haired head and stand up. The teacher knew that his tall stature always intimidated me, even since I grew to be the same height as him.

"Phil, that's mildly ridiculous – you need to stop one of them. I've had emails from your mother and she agrees too. Shall we discuss which one?"

I nodded, knowing it was about time. Exams were coming up and I knew he was right – I didn't think I'd cope otherwise.

"So, firstly, the charity social media has to go, no argument. Someone else can easily take that job. OK?" I nodded, internally wincing at the first elimination.

"So how about you give the cooking to your mum?"

They must have exchanged emails, I thought. No teacher would suggest this first off, because it would be least likely if you had busy or pushy parents. However, it wasn't like that for me.

Cooking was one of my few talents. I loved it. For my birthday, I would get cooking instruments, and in my rare spare time, I would love going to the supermarket. It sounded ridiculously boring but it was what I replaced the TV with, and it made sense to me. I preferred being useful then being lazy. It also relieved some weight off of my shoulders.

"No, Mr James. I love cooking," I began, shaking my head. "I don't want to give the evening meal away." I stopped for a second, thinking. "What about I make extra of the meal and have that for lunch the next day?"

He nodded and we continued down the list.

"Chess? How do you feel about getting rid of that?"

Chess was not there for the enjoyment of it. It was the best thing that I had for my personal statement for Universities. It looked good, I was fairly good at it and despite my dislike for it, it seemed like a good use of my time.

I explained why I did it and he understood. Mr James smiled his proud smile again, saying he went through years of hockey for the same reason.

"So that leaves us with the job," he said. "I understand, the money is really useful. I get it. I'm just wondering how else we can ease your time."

I nodded again. We seemed to do a lot of nodding. We understood each other so why couldn't this have come any sooner.

"Yeah, it does help," I started, trying to think over it. Really, I did it to raise money for weekend activities, but over the time I got it, we got better financially, and mum started giving me more money. There was no need for it any more. "But I can cope. I'll call the manager as soon as I'm out of school."

The bell beeped, signalling the end of the school day. I stood up, grabbing my bag.

"Thank you," I called to Mr James, as I was by the door to the classroom. "Have a wonderful half-term!"

I was done with school for a week. A well needed rest was going to come.