Sunday, November 09, 2008

Why I found my inner bastard.

Subtitled: why I wanted to live in the peace & love era of the late 1960s but my inner bastard had to take control and take me back to 1954.

So 2 weeks ago. Imagine a documentary film crew following a student teacher around - for research purposes & probably so they can make a hilarious programme on Channel 4: full of tears, laughter, anguish, screaming, tears - and probably a scene (just before an ad break) where the teacher turns to the camera and says,

"Stop it! Stop it. Stop filming. I've had enough. I don't want to do this any more. It's all too much. I can't cope. I don't even know why I'm doing it. I want to give up... " [Close-up on tense, tearful face of trainee teacher - and cut to indent - "This programme is sponsored by Kleenex, the *man* sized tissue, for those moments when your nose is really full of snot."]

Some adverts for Christina Necrophilia's (thanks spell-check) new perfume, some car, some yoghurty stomach aid, a government advert telling you not to jump off buildings when you're drunk; a quick trailer for Gordon Ramjet's new programme 'How to Fucking Swear Like a Twat'. - and we're back to the show.

It's the next day. Student Teacher man is back at home talking to the documentary film director. He is trying to explain what went wrong -

And in case this made-up programme analogy is going to far - please be aware - HE is ME. He is real. The events described herein: are real. Except for legal purposes, and if anyone involved cares - none of the events described happened, okay? It's all fiction. Complete made-up real life fiction...

The student teacher is speaking: "I was as hopelessly inept as Gordon Brown at a Speed Dating event. Lots of muttering, occasional shouting to try and get attention; no one listening."

Witter whitter, whine whine, whinge whinge, moan. He talks about how he is boring, the subject is boring, no one is interested, he had no idea what he was doing. His strange and sudden capacity for crying. Boo and hoo.

The camera cuts back to the lesson he's kvetching about. As he voiceovers. A GCSE class full of 18 young people at a 6th form college that shall remain nameless. They are all happy if a little bored and distracted. There is no one being thrown out of the window. There is no knife- or horseplay. Basically they are kind of acting like *he* is not there. Unless they are shouting comments over to him about non-topic topics. It's more like a youth club than a lesson. Hmmmm.

The teacher says, "I was doing my confident friendly teacher act. Chatter chatter, yes, fine, let's get back to the work. There was no violence and hatred, it all just dribbled out of control and ... and ... and ... my brain went blank ... too many things happening - not enough solutions. O dear....Friendly banter degenerated into random shouting, groups talking and ignoring what they were meant to be doing - me no longer entirely sure what we were meant to be doing... Throw in some headphones, some covert texting - and it turned into a head exploding - *I can't cope* kinda situation..... I don't even like Ingerlish as a subject. *Analysing media* - what is that when it's at home? Really. I don't like teaching as a job. I don't like the world. I like birds when they're singing, but even they shit on your head... It's all rooobish. Rotten. Hopeless."



And this week? The return to the class from Hell? Well, this post is long enough for one go. It's a failing. We hear at NAFANTK would like to apologise for the over-long nature of a lot of these bloggages...

CUT TO: preview of next week's show. The trainee teacher is looking anxious. His mind is focused. He has to find his inner bastard.

This blog was brought to you by Kleenex, the man-sized tissue for mopping up all your male effluvia. With Kleenex it's okay to weep; we're there for you...

3 comments:

  1. I like Man sized tissues. better than those random balm tissues... always an unexpected suprise, and a nasty one at that!

    An Ermine, thats a pretty good Daemon - keep you warm in the winter months (I just spelt warm WALM - Oh dear...

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  2. Teenagers are horrid, but I believe that when you get moments where they really get what you're on about that it's quite the most wonderful thing in the world.

    I wanted to be a teacher once, I didn't get in because they didn't take any biologists that year. Or I didn't get in, and they didn't take any biologists.

    Ermines eat small rodents by the way.

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  3. if ermines eat small rodents i deffo want one. or if not, a ferret so I can go on day time tv in the 1980s with a ferret down my trousers.

    teenagers are generally horrid. or at the very least self possessed to the nth degree. but then aren't we all.

    i thought everyone loved biologists? you get to play with fruitflies and stick insects.

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