Skool Dayz

The other day I inadvertently referred to an old teacher of mine’s penchant for dishing out ridiculous punishment essays if you misbehaved. One was to write about the inside of a ping-pong ball, and another was about what was in the centre of a polo mint. It certainly took a long time to dream up two pages of A4 on those topics, and it was symptomatic of a man who clearly thought carefully on his revenge.

I recall plenty stories about the head case pupils at my school, but will come back to them another day. Instead, my mind is wandering towards memories of some of the unfortunate staff who had to teach the delinquents that attended my pretty rough secondary. In fact, I think that’s why I loved Grange Hill so much because things really did happen in my school like on T.V. Before I start, I should clarify that I was one of the good kids who respected most of my teachers.

Mr R had a little speech impediment where he had a slight Jonathon Woss, but would also hang on his r’s a second too long and try to growl his way through. This was particularly unfortunate for a person teaching physics. Fowwrr evewry action thewre is an equal and opposite wwrrreaction. The laws of Gwwravity. Wrrefwrraction of light through a Pwwrrism. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance and used to get ribbed senseless. Someone once asked him if he could say “round the rugged rocks” and was promptly given the belt on the spot.

MR G was a PE teacher, and was actually a decent enough bloke. However, the rumour went round that someone had walked into his office and caught him with his hands down his pants, lets just say “rummaging”. The story continued that he had then bribed the individual with £5 to keep it quiet. Whether it did or did not happen is irrelevant, for this poor man was subject to anonymous shouts of “give us a Fiver” every time his back was turned. Kids are bloody awful to people aren’t they.

Miss M and Mr G were witnessed out together in town one Saturday night. Cue endless embarrassment and questions. Some wit decided it would be a good idea to draw a massive cupid style heart on the chalkboard. “Miss, are you getting married to Mr G?” “Miss is it true you are having Mr G’s baby”.” Miss do you and Mr G, like, do it?” Then one day Mr G came into the classroom, well I tell you, the poor woman didn’t know what to do with herself and neither did the class. Think it ended up in a mass detention.

I said I got on with most of my teachers. Mrs D taught English and was the most sour faced evil woman I had ever encountered. We had to write a piece on what career we would choose. I picked a Civil Engineer and she told me directly to my face that she found me hard to be civil at all. I’m afraid for once in my goody two shoes school career, I muttered under my breath that she was a f***ing cow. I was immediately sent to the head of department and had to tell him what I said. I was cacking myself and fully expected to be belted, six on each hand. Mr F took me aside, sat down and shook his head. “Now, look here”, he said. “You may think Mrs D is a f***ing cow, and for once I am inclined to agree with you, but you can’t go round saying it to her, now get out of here, go back to class and tell her I belted you” What a star Mr F was.

Another teacher who was one of my favourites was an old gent, Mr B. He was my first year from tutor and was impressed with my academic skills and good behaviour, obviously. A few years later, I was sitting outside the careers office and just as the adviser came out to get me, Mr B walked past. “I see your doing Prime Ministers today”, he said.

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