ASDAN

Lord Greystoke, Baby Oddbod and others of that ilk attend Asdan classes which are designed to give them a qualification for being inept at everything. I enjoy pointing out to them how ludicrously easy many of their Asdan tasks are so much that I wrote a song to sing to them during lessons.

They, of course, started to learn it and repeat it to their Asdan teacher who is now a ‘big fan’ also (my words, not hers). The other day she presented me with my own Asdan course book so I could see how worthwhile the whole thing is. I laughed, she huffed, I went off and added a new line to the ditty.

Here it is so far, additions will be posted as and when they happen. It’s designed to be chanted in a sort of singsong way with a pause before the ‘Asdan’; something like this:

Dum-di-dum-di-dumdiddy-dum (Pause) As-dan!

Making a sandwhich, cheese or ham: Asdan
Taking the beans out of the can: Asdan
Cracking an egg but missing the pan: Asdan
Making the tea to pass an exam: Asdan

Working in Tesco as hard as you can: Asdan
Getting a job driving a van: Asdan
Being on time because you ran: Asdan
Crossing the road by holding a hand: Asdan

Coffee

I used to think I knew a thing or two about coffee, I received my Master Barista diploma in 2001 after all, but today Lord Greystoke put me right on that account and no mistake.
I pass this wisdom on in his own words

(please don’t try this at home)…

‘How to cook coffee’ by Lord Greystoke.

1) Get your chocolate.
2) Put your water in a kettle.
3) Put the kettle under the grill.
4) Put chocolate into hot water and stir.
5) Get a cup, pour in hot chocolate.
6) Add milk and stir.
7) Done innit.

And a final comment from the master himself:
‘I’ve done it at home and it works.’

Lord Greystoke captured on film

“…the savage man leaping, bending, and stamping with the savage apes in the ancient rite of the Dum-Dum. His roars and growls were more beastly than the beasts. His face was distorted with savage ferocity. He beat upon his great breast and screamed forth his challenge as his smooth, brown hide brushed the shaggy coats of his fellows. It was weird; it was wonderful; and in its primitive savagery it was not without beauty–the strange scene, such a scene as no other human being, probably, ever had witnessed–and yet, withal, it was horrible.” – ERB

Standards

Let me relate a tale of a particularly unpleasant Year 9 girl, Slutty McSlut. She arrived one day, distraught and asking for a pregnancy test. Distraught that she might be pegnant at 14? No, distraught that her friends were laughing because she didn’t know who the father might be. She’d been at the gypsy site but didn’t know which boy it had been because
‘The caravan was dark and he was behind me….’

The day today

I’ve just sat in a Year 10 Maths class where the teacher was sitting next to a student, trying to help them. The conversation went like this:

Teacher: ‘Now you’ve listed the coordinates you have to plot them on the axis.
Johnny Head-in-the-air: ‘Uh-huh.’
Teacher: ‘Take your hand off my knee Johnny.’
Johnny Head-in-the-air: ‘Uh-huh.’
Teacher: ‘I mean it.’
Johnny Head-in-the-air: (Now stroking the Teacher’s arm) ‘But Sir, I have feelings for you….’
Teacher: (Trying to keep a straight face) ‘Try and act sensibly’
Johnny Head-in-the-air: ‘But Sir!’
Teacher: ‘That’s it; I’m phoning your parents.’
Johnny Head-in-the-air: ‘Oh come on Sir, you’re trying not to laugh.’

This is true and the matter is dropped. Johnny Head-in-the-air has a 1 hour detention already for this lesson so further action could be seen as vindictive and result in a general student uprising in the class. Much ineffectual shouting from both sides would ensue. Johnny Head-in-the-air looks around the room with his infectious grin to check that he is indeed the centre of attention before, having been reassured that this is the case, he returns to his work

Meanwhile I’m trying to help Krusty who tells me I make her laugh when I look at her. I do try not to look at her (it’s best, believe me) but she laughs anyway. At least she’s doing her work.

Behind me Mad Max, who has been sent out, is fumbling at the bottom of the door and sticking his ruler through the gap trying to attract his friend’s attention. Everyone studiously ignores him and waits for the end of the lesson.

I’m glad it’s Friday.

Before I can escape at the end of the day I’m accosted by SLAg, (my favourite student), who is waving a swollen and lacerated hand at me. She’s been bitten by a squirrel and fears she might have rabies.
I reassure her and offer her a Polo to ease her pain. It’s when you can help with the little things that the job becomes fulfilling. I don’t mention Tetnus and she heads off to enjoy her weekend.

Sex education

Ah, sex education classes, they can bring the best and the worst out in a class. Here’s an example that will stay with me for a long time; the format of the lesson is that everyone writes a question on a piece of paper, annonymously, and the Teacher collects them together. Questions are then pulled from the hat and read out by the Teacher who answers them frankly. Everyone gets to hear the answer to something they want to know or that is worrying them without any attached embarrassment.

OK, I’ve shared my good practice, now let’s see how it pans out in reality…..

Question: ‘Is masturbation harmful?’
Answer: ‘ No, masturbation will not harm you or hurt you and is a natural thing to do.’

So far, so good. But, wait, Urchin has his unwashed hand in the air.
Teacher: ‘Yes, Urchin?’
Urchin: ‘It can hurt sometimes Miss, when you tense your legs so hard for that long they can ache terribly.’

I just laughed out loud, that set the Teacher off and she laughed so much she cried. The class laughed too, they’d always known Urchin was a wanker.

A lighter moment

Chef is in Year 11, he smokes and, since he reeks of it most of the time, I know he smokes. He knows I know and doesn’t bother to hide it from me (as if….).
One particular day during a quiet part of a lesson, when the Teacher had wandered off to get some books, he showed me his new lighter.

‘What do you think of my new lighter Sir? Smart, innit?’
I hold out my hand, ‘It looks very nice, let me see it properly….’
‘Promise you won’t confiscate it?’ He’s not sure….
‘What’s the point? You’d only get another one.’ I reassure him.
‘Ok sir, I trust you…’ (Fool!) He hands it over.
I throw it out of the nearest window where it falls thirty feet to the concrete below. The tinkley sound of it breaking is echoed up in the classroom by the sound of Chef’s jaw hitting the desk. He looks at me with wide, staring, uncomprehending eyes. ‘You…you….you just threw my lighter out the window!’
‘Did I? Ooops, butterfingers’ I shrug, I really don’t care.
There’s a pause while he lets the facts percolate through his tiny brain. Then, he’s up like a shot and out of the fire door at the back of the room. As he pounds down the old iron steps I close the door behind him, locking him out.

I can still hear him crooning over his dead lighter far below when the Teacher returns.
‘Where’s Chef?’ She asks. I tell her, she smiles and hands out the new books. We both ignore the plaintive scratching that comes from the other side of the fire exit as she finishes. Eventually Chef’ll find his way back by going the long way round. Eventually.

Exam Time

Invigilation time again!
Deep joy, hours at a time spent being really quiet whilst watching kids sit and look bored because they’ve finished a one and a half hour paper in forty-five minutes and don’t know what to do.

Special Mechanic turned up for an exam he wasn’t supposed to do. There wasn’t a space for him and we told him but he insisted so we got a desk and chair and sat him down.
He spent a minute looking at the paper and put his hand up.
‘Yes Special Mechanic?’
‘I don’t understand any of this.’
‘Perhaps that’s why your name wasn’t down for this exam?’
‘Oh…can I go then?’
‘No.’
‘Can I have some paper to draw on?’
‘Ok, here you are….’
‘Erm…….do you have a pen or pencil?’
I walked away and amused myself for the next hour watching him trying to keep himself occupied in silence.

I was in the small room with my numpty kids (see Special Mechanic above). If I’d been in the main hall I could have at least played ‘Invigilator it!’ The idea is that you slowly make your way towards another patrolling invigilator and when you get up to them you tap them on the shoulder and say, very quietly in their ear, ‘you’re it.’
Then you wander away and let them stalk their victim. They’re not allowed to get you back, which would be too easy. Once the game’s underway all the invigilators are warily circling away from each other because no one’s sure who’s it any more. Getting called by a student is a nerve wracking experience because you’re forced to be static and you can see the ‘it’ heading towards you.
It relieves the tedium I suppose. Four weeks of this to go……….

Goodbye Mr Grimshout

Sometimes, even the most insignificant of people can have a major impact on the school environment.

A while ago a student informed me that ‘Little Charlie Bucket has been missing for three days.’ I hadn’t noticed and I didn’t really care so I strode onwards trying to shake the little informer off. He was a resilient fellow though, and he kept pace with me.
‘He walked home with Mr. Grimshout and hasn’t been seen since’ he continued.
‘Everyone is worried. Mr Grimshout probably killed him.’
I told him not to be so stupid and left him to his fantasies.

A couple of days passed and there was still no sign of Little Charlie Bucket. Everyone concerned was convinced that Mr. Grimshout had ‘rumped’ him by the canal and then disposed of the body.
Foolishly I inquired what exactly ‘rumping’ was and was told that it was a new word to described being anally raped when you secretly enjoyed it. That’ll teach me to be nosy; there are some things Man was not meant to know (to paraphrase Mary Shelley or, at least, an old Hammer film).

I did my best to quash these false rumours and moved on.
But I began to wonder……..

Now, Mr. Grimshout is a decent sort but he is very fierce with the students and they don’t like it. They wind him up mercilessly knowing that, although the volume of his ranting will rise far enough for the room and the corridor it’s in to shake, he is still essentially powerless to do anything to them for their disgusting behaviour. Eventually Mr. Grimshout’s shouting will reach a never-before-attained volume and the scumbags will have won their game. Their laughter will rise above even Mr. Grimshout and stay there until another member of staff arrives to take control.

Mr. Grimshout is certainly a volatile man who has a short fuse.
Could he have killed Little Charlie Bucket? I’ve certainly considered doing so on more than one occasion and if I was volatile……?
No! It’s ridiculous.
But still, maybe I should mention it to someone?

I find Little Charlie Bucket’s Form Tutor and explain what I’ve heard. She’s heard it too and we exchange a look. I didn’t get the reassuring denial I was expecting. She doesn’t know where Little Charlie Bucket is either. She’s heard that he was ‘rumped’ by Mr. Grimshout. She knows it’s ridiculous. But, still……….

We wonder and we wait.

Fate, in the form of Carnt B. Arsed, takes a hand.
During one of Mr. Grimshout’s rants Carnt B. Arsed stands up, points an accusing finger and shouts, ‘You rumped Little Charlie Bucket and threw his body into the canal!’

What follows is not at all pleasant; tempers are lost and Mr. Grimshout takes a bit of a break from teaching. Everyone is convinced that this is a just reward for the cruel way he ended the life of Little Charlie Bucket.

Except Little Charlie Bucket himself who turns up one morning a couple of days after the furore has died down. He was away with his family who hadn’t bothered to tell anybody.
Nobody cares, to the student masses he is a hero, he got rid of Mr. Grimshout, he was directly involved in the discovery of a new and unpleasant word and he is now famous for ever more.

Little Charlie Bucket is pleased he’s a hero, but a bit bemused by the whole thing and reticent about where exactly he and his family were.
Strangely, he has developed an awkward way of walking.
What if?……….

Goodbye Little Science teacher

Little Science Teacher has left us for better things. She will live on in our memories though; my most treasured memory of her will be her words of wisdom.
The most spectacular of her pronouncements in my opinion was this one:

“We know hamsters are amphibious because they lay their eggs underwater”

Not too shabby for a biologist!