by Shaun Wing

Created on: March 03, 2010

Whenever I put my hand up in my classroom, it was usually to ask whether I could relieve myself. I would then do so without detection. It was a military operation and quite frankly it was frowned upon if you were found cavorting outside class times. Caning was an option for teachers and was frequently used in front of the classroom, like a performance piece, big metal rulers, bendy wooden rulers, take your weapon. Pupils would have to endure the spectacle as the Teacher practices their swing like a golf shot, before teeing off, with aghast from the audience. You could here a pin drop after the swipe had connected with a gush and a small yelp. This wasn't that long ago either. I look upon that time rather fondly; weird really as discipline seemed to over power the attention seekers and calm was always one sharp smack on the table away. Only once, did I witness a fellow pupil hit back at a Teacher, he was immediately expelled; it was made worse because it was during a Religious Education class. Two weeks instead of one week suspension. Now youngsters run the roost in classroom antics, berating each other and distracted by portable devices such as mobile phones and MP3 Players.

Naturally my youthful charades did cater for myriad stupidities, gluing chalk onto a blackboard. Melting Mars bars on a Bunsen Burner. Pea shooting bits of paper out of a Bic pen aiming at the Teachers coffee; that was my favourite. I had a good aim. I felt my parents were paying for the coffee with their taxes, so they shouldn't complain. It was quite a performance. Teaching was nearly always interrupted by a fire drill or a NUT strike. Why the union called themselves 'NUT' tickled my creativity somewhat. By having living ancestors who were conscientious Teachers who made subject interesting and exciting, I didn't care much for the teaching practices that my parents were paying for. Reading out of a curriculum styled text book in a croaky morose tone, didn't inspire me, enthuse me; it bored the pants off me. Hence, why leaving the classroom was a clause to save my sanity and worth the risk of being caught and pulled by the ear by the Headmaster back to the moronic droll of Curriculum reading. At least the tingly red ear temporary helped with the boredom factor.

Teachers have a pretty raw deal compared to my school days of recklessness followed by discipline without fail. It was part of the parcel and I was unaware of any 'Political Correctness' that pupils today know far too much about,

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