Cannons.

Another Sunday, another planning session. And it’s nice outside. Bugger. Continuing from my ‘germ’ theme of last week; I know have a red eye which itches. Having said that it’s not made the move to full blown gooey horror so maybe I just poked myself in the eye while sleeping. It wouldn’t surprise me. I sleep violently. And seeing as I had aggressive dreams last night (calling a nun a ‘cunt’ for starters, and then she changed into one of those ‘boxing nuns’ you get in gadget shops and started going for me) the chances are it’s a self inflicted wound. I’ll know tomorrow though, if one of the children’s missing due to conjunctivitis the mystery will be solved.

Have you seen that new teaching advertisement? It’s very irritating. A very young teacher, with a twatty haircut, sits at his desk with some twatty article on the desk showing he likes the football (Tottenham I think…only seen it once). In walks some adolescent wearing a red scarf (Arsenal perhaps?). Child silently points at self and shows the teacher three fingers. Points at teacher and shows one finger while giving condescending look. Teacher says something along the lines of “yeah, sit down”, rolls eyes and tuts as if to say “those pesky kids”. The voiceover tells you about a decent salary and that ‘the banter’s good’. Right:

1. The teacher’s in his early 20s. He’s probably an NQT, so it’s about £21,000 if he’s in London, quite a bit less if he’s not.
2. His fucking haircut will surely ensure the kids take the piss on a daily basis.
3. Take that fucking scarf off, Spot-boy! It’s not school fucking uniform!
4. And while you’re at it, turn round, get the fuck out of my fucking classroom and come in again with a bit more respect!

This is why I’m not a secondary teacher of course. I would blow all my blood vessels in a fit of apoplectic rage in the first lesson and die there and then. Probably to a rousing chorus of ‘ding dong the bastard’s dead’ from the pupils. Well, it annoys me.

My new class is utterly failing to be anything like my last lot. Not one of them has shit themselves yet, neither have they wet themselves, thrown up in class, had a fight, stolen anything, fallen over and horrifically wounded themselves while doing a simple task like having a drink of water, got into trouble for lying or swollen up in front of my very eyes due to a food allergy. It’s bliss I tell you. Could get very boring though.

A teacher from one of the older classes showed me some drawings they’d done of the HMS Victory. One was particularly good. The child had tried to draw the deck crammed with cannon. I want to keep a copy of it, it looks like a rowing boat bristling with erect, black cocks with shining red bellends. They even have shiny black balls at the base. All they’re missing is the classic ‘spunk drips’ shooting out the end. Alas. How we all laughed in the staffroom. You just can’t beat an unintentional smut-fest, either a drawing containing phalluses, or the best spelling mistake ever; ‘can’t’. It’s almost a shame when you show them how to spell it properly. Takes so much from the original. For example; “I went to my mum and sed can I have a biscit and she sed no you cunt”. Always good for a chortle.