If a teacher falls in the forest and there is no one there...
Mr. Jenkins closed the door behind him, walked up to the chalkboard in the staffroom and wrote the figures 10, 5, 6, 12, 21 and 0 in his column. He dropped the chalk back into the tray and flopped onto the sofa next to Mr. Davis."Ten no-shows, not bad," said Mr. Davis. "Not bad figures all round, it seems. There is a really big Thank You to Sincere Thank You disparity there. Twelve "I pay your wages" merchants too. Are you going for the title?""What," said Jenkins, "am I going after Jones? It just isn't possible. The man has being a miserable cunt down to an artform. Amazing, the difference you see when he isn't in school mode. Anyway, he rubs them up the wrong way on purpose. Not a chance of beating him."From the other side of the room the headmaster shouted, "Jenkins! I had to endure that fucking idiot child Rowley's dad for half an hour tonight. What did you say to him?" The headmaster scowled across the room."I merely suggested that he try and enforce a bit of study in the home. Gently like."Another scowl. "So he was cluttering up my office for half an hour because you gently suggested that he make sure the fuckwit does his homework? Let me remind you, and everyone else in the room better listen-up good and proper, your role in this school is to keep the parents as far away from my office as is humanly fucking possible. I pay your wages. That means you have to acquiesce to my every whim and desire, no matter how ill-thought out and self-serving it might be."Jenkins, held up his hand in best Oprah style, "hang on. The government pays my wages, you just pass them on. My job is to acquiesce to the every whim and desire of the Department of Education, no matter how ill-thought out and self-serving it might be."The headmaster scratched his nose whilst holding Jenkins in his thousand yard, board-duster throwing temper-tantrum stare. "The damocles sword of unemployment is hanging over your balding pate and swinging lower with every word out from mouth. The only thing protecting you is that that hulking idiot Jones is still stuck in the doorway. Where is the miserable bastard, anyway?"Davis interjected, "last I saw of him he was heading outside with one of the parents."The headmaster fixed his most suspicious stare on Davis, "what kind of heading outside?""In the sense of chat for two, ambulance for one.""Oh, fuck!" said the headmaster as he shot out of the room. "Not again. Not-a-fucking-gain!"
Now listen here, you...
Father: No, I am afraid not - I pay you to oversee my childrens' education. That is your responsibility.Teacher: Whilst I don't think my responsibility soley resides in teaching my students mathematics, I do think a child's social and moral education is the responsibility of his or her parents. I see your son for four hours a week and with the best will in the world I couldn't hope to...Father: How dare you try to tell me how to bring up my own children!Teacher: I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, just sugesting you use all of your options.*Father: I'm not having this. I pay your wages!Teacher: I beg your pardon?Father: You heard. I pay my taxes!Teacher: Do you? I also pay my taxes but that does not mean I am my own boss. "Jenkins, where are you going?" "I am going home, headmaster. I thought that seeing as how I pay my taxes I am my own boss and gave myself the afternoon off."Father: You know what I mean. I pay my taxes to the government, they pay you, you provide a service to me. You have a responsibilty to me, the tax payer.Teacher: I have a responsibilty to your son, who deserves my attentive concern the same as all of my other three hundred students. Whose parents also no doubt pay their taxes on the whole.Father: The gall of this surprises even me. The headmaster shall hear of this. Mark my words!Teacher: I'd rather mark your son's homework but seeing as it doesn't seem to be forthcoming I'll have to make do. When you speak to the headmaster, please don't mention that you pay my wages. He is under the impression that he does, you see? I would really hate to spoil his fantasy of who does what where all the responsibility lies.*I borrowed these from Bill Hicks. Alas, he doesn't need his words any more, so I borrowed them on the sly.
I'm afraid that...
Father: I'm afraid that my son isn't doing as well as she should be. What are your thoughts on the matter Mr. er, Jenkins?
Teacher: I agree with you entirely. I have been concerned about his progress for some time.
Father: Oh, well I am glad. Maths is one of the core subjects. What do you intend to do about it?
Teacher: Well, here at St. Eggberts we beleive in working closely with parents to help students achieve as much as they can.
Father: What do you mean?
Teacher: Sanctioning is a bit of an issue with boys of your son's age. Minor sanctions such as lines or forfeits tend to be shrugged-off and more srtict sanctions such as detentions and putting students on report tends o create bad air between staff and students. The ultimate sanctions of suspension and exclusion from school hardly seem to be the way forward for students who are not working.
Father: Hang-on, are you saying that he is not working?
Teacher: I sent a letter to you stating that such weas the case. Am I to assume that the signature on it was not yours?
Father: Why, yes.
Teacher: You see the nature of the problem? Though your son is a remarkably bright child, he rarely completes his assignments and often completes work for other classes in this one. His failure to shine is as a result of his failure to work. An old-fashioned elbow grease issue. However, if I can count upon your support...
Father: Of course, absolutely!
Teacher: ... there is a way forward. The first area where we can work together is dicipline. If i issue a sanction here and it is mirrored at home, it is twice as effective.
Father: Contact myself or the boy's mother any time at all.
Teacher: Excellent. Thank you. The second issue is concerning his work at home. I would like to ask you to supervise his homework.
Father: Absolutely impossible, I am far too busy for that.
Blast from the past
Son: Welcome - come in. Did you have a good trip? Excellent. Just put your stuff there. This is the master bedroom here, this is the bathroom, toilet next door, then the kitchen. This is the living room and the balcony is just through there.
Mother: Where will we all be sleeping? It is a bit small isn't it?
Son: Well, you'll be sleeping in the living room on the couch and we'll make something for Dad on the floor in the kitchen. Only kidding - you can have our room and we'll drag a futon out in the living room.
Father: I'll put the cases in there then.
Son: Ok then, Dad. I'll just have a chat with mum if thats all right. I just wanted to say that I know that you are adults and all but I don't want any funny business. Neither under my roof, between my walls or on my floors.
Mother: What?
Son: This is a non-christian house, so I am afraid your whole "sex after marriage" thing isn't going to be acceptable here. What you do in your own house is your own business, of course.
Mother: Hang on... What?
Son: Just give me a second to say my piece. While you are under my roof, you live by my rules. Does that sound familiar? I left your roof in pristine condition, the virgin Mary could have eaten her dinner off it without a rumble afterwards, so please do me the same honour. You wouldn't sully my roof for the sake of your own carnal pleasure would you?
Mother: What
are you talking about?
Son: I don't like the idea of the two of you having sex, possibly less so than for yourself when the positions were reversed all those years ago.
Mother: Have you quite finished?
Son: Yes. Oh, just one other thing. I expect that room to be kept immaculate for the next two weeks. Anything found on the floor will be binned.
Mother: To think I raised you from childhood... I think we will be able to do without you traipsing through our room, thank you very much. Has the notion of privacy not reached this part of the world?
Son: Oh no, no, no, no. That isn't the way it works. You can't see any reason why I should be in there? It smells! Did you like my non-sequitter there? You would have been proud of that in your day.
Mother: If the room smells it is nothing to do with me.
Son: As you are very much aware, this has nothing to do with reality. This is about my roof. The sanctitiy of the roof. Surely you understand that we must hnour the roof. Everything that goes on beneath it is called into question. Sacrifices must be made. Your sex-life and personal privacy are top of the list I am afraid. The roof. Hey dad, did you see the Arsenal match last week?
The world on a stick
"Dear God," cried Dave, "hear my prayer!"
Praying was normal for Dave. What wasn't normal was for God to answer. "Yes, what is it?"
"Er, I am your most devoted servant." Dave was a little thrown by having someone listen to his prayers. That wasn't part of the deal, was it? He struggled for the righteous flow that usually took his prayers on for hours. God leapt into the gap.
"Are you really? Are you
really? I must admit I've let things slide over the past few years. You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Lying to a deity is a serious offence."
Dave dragged his hand down his face, a sort of full face have-I-shaved manouvre. "No - I mean, don't you know? I thought you knew everything?"
God chuckled, "no, no. How boring would that be? Terribly boring - I know because I tried it once and then had to forget a ton of stuff to make it exciting again. Anyway, I'm busy building another planet so what can I do for you? Is there something you would like?"
Dave was still struggling. If everyone went around having their prayers answered all the time where would we be then? What one thing did he want, had he always wanted that he couldn't get for himself by the good old-fashioned Christian work ethics and morals he had. By definition anything he couldn't have he shouldn't want. "I always thought it would be wonderful to be the king of the world." He smiled apologetically at his weak joke.
"You want the world?"
"On a stick."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't work at all. However, if you can take it off my hands without a stick, it's all yours."
Dave have-I-shaved again. "I can have the world?"
"Yes, sure... Oh my word! It's off again! Tectonic plates are a necessary evil, but... Look I'm going to have to go and drag that plate back out from under that other one. Look after it, do you hear me? It comes as seen, right? Cheerio then."
Brainstorming minutes
Tuesday 14th January, 2pm
Present: Jannet Peters, Mike Johnson, Peter Wellard
2.00 - The purpose of the meeting was outlined. To find a suitable strategy for decreasing mobile phone use whilst driving. Specifically, the increase in symultaneous emailing and driving was brought to the table. The grizly figures were outlined.
2.05 - A number of options were put forward. These included:
- stricter penalties for those caught
- education programmes in schools
- community action schemes where people stand around with flags
- more policing
- letting idiots that do this wipe each other out
These were eliminated one by one as being too effective. The education programme was particularly scorned as being a measure which "bolted the door before the horse ran."
4.35 - After some hours discussing the target demographic, which was established to be everyone that drove, it was decided that a poster campaign with a childish character would be the most inneffective strategy. A motion to use this strategy was unanimously passed.
4.38 - A scrawled car holding a phone was knocked-up. It was unaimously agreed that anyone who emailed and drove would certainly take notice and mend their ways. The further addition of the words "tappity-tappity" over the phone would make the message clearer.
4.45 - It was decided that the poster would only be posted on inside driving department offices and in the middle of no less than five other similar posters.
4.50 - the meeting was wund up and papers were pushed aound three desks until five o'clock. The recommendations from the meeting were passed-on to the board, which rubber-stamped them without looking at them.
