NUT ? Nuts?
Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2005 12:48 am
It didn?t pass my notice that the NUT (national Union of Teachers) had a bit of a get together the other week, where they collectively wrung their hands and cried into their muesli about the declining standards of behaviour in the classroom. A succession of speakers came to the podium with blood curdling tales of thrown knives, boiling water, regular assaults, as well as effing, blinding, and general anarchy. ?Ha!? I thought. How ironic. How rich. But you reap what you sow. The leftist NUT has been a prime mover over the past 35 years in removing discipline and opprobrium from the classroom (and the rest of society) encouraging school children to express themselves as they please and not to point the finger when their behaviour, attitude, and work, fell below accepted standards.
Of course the NUT blamed all the usual suspects for this sorry state of affairs ? globalisation, third world debt, the bourgeois middleclass and Mrs. T (even though she had been moved off the case before most of their tormenters were born!) Yes, they blamed everyone but themselves and seemed genuinely perplexed by it all. What a set of twats, eh? I hope the pupils of ?Scruffy Chav High? continue to give ?em a right good kicking.
It was different when I was at school, unruliness and bad manners were simply not tolerated. I recall one incident in particular where I fell foul of ?Mr. Collette?, the deputy head. He was a large geezer of fearsome visage ? slicked back Brylceamed hair and milk bottle bottom spectacles. A chap so intimidating his name was usually uttered in hushed tones. Anyhow, it came to pass that the teacher who was supposed to be teaching us history one morning was late, so the class of 4c was left to its own devices ? you know, running round, shouting, throwing text books and general riotous assembly. For my part I was entering into the sprit of it all by banging the lid of my desk with youthful gusto. But all this tomfoolery suddenly stopped dead, when Mr. Collette, `attracted by the commotion, appeared in the classroom doorway. You could have cut the air with a knife as the whole class held it?s breath in collective horror. I had been so engrossed in my desk banging antics that for a few moments I had not noticed this angel of doom standing on the threshold of classroom 5. But now Mr. Collette was looking in my direction (gulp). ?DIBBLE! STEP OVER HERE!? Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Nothing to lose now. So I swaggered to the front of the class like a latter day James Dean. I was probably just in for a bollocking - desk banging wasn?t such a heinous crime after all, was it? However, as soon as I was within striking distance, and totally unexpectedly, Mr. Collette?s hand shot up with cobra like rapidity and gave me a slap across the chops so mighty that it fair knocked me into the middle of the following week! As the stars spun above my head I sensed rather than heard the sharp intake of breath from my horrified classmates. You didn?t fuck with Mr. Collette.
But if that happed now Mr. Collette would find himself serving a ten year stretch down the lentil mines of PC land and I would be in line for a ?100,000 education authority compo cheque with 12 months free counseling, on account of my psychological trauma, like. What utter bollocks, eh?
Yep, those were the days. Looking back now I see that Mr. Collette was the antidote to the natural anarchy and unruliness of our chavy school. He kept the whole thing on course, he kept order. We wouldn?t have learned much at all if we hadn?t been forced to. So Mr. C, wherever you are now ? respect.
Officer Dibble?s School Days
Of course the NUT blamed all the usual suspects for this sorry state of affairs ? globalisation, third world debt, the bourgeois middleclass and Mrs. T (even though she had been moved off the case before most of their tormenters were born!) Yes, they blamed everyone but themselves and seemed genuinely perplexed by it all. What a set of twats, eh? I hope the pupils of ?Scruffy Chav High? continue to give ?em a right good kicking.
It was different when I was at school, unruliness and bad manners were simply not tolerated. I recall one incident in particular where I fell foul of ?Mr. Collette?, the deputy head. He was a large geezer of fearsome visage ? slicked back Brylceamed hair and milk bottle bottom spectacles. A chap so intimidating his name was usually uttered in hushed tones. Anyhow, it came to pass that the teacher who was supposed to be teaching us history one morning was late, so the class of 4c was left to its own devices ? you know, running round, shouting, throwing text books and general riotous assembly. For my part I was entering into the sprit of it all by banging the lid of my desk with youthful gusto. But all this tomfoolery suddenly stopped dead, when Mr. Collette, `attracted by the commotion, appeared in the classroom doorway. You could have cut the air with a knife as the whole class held it?s breath in collective horror. I had been so engrossed in my desk banging antics that for a few moments I had not noticed this angel of doom standing on the threshold of classroom 5. But now Mr. Collette was looking in my direction (gulp). ?DIBBLE! STEP OVER HERE!? Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Nothing to lose now. So I swaggered to the front of the class like a latter day James Dean. I was probably just in for a bollocking - desk banging wasn?t such a heinous crime after all, was it? However, as soon as I was within striking distance, and totally unexpectedly, Mr. Collette?s hand shot up with cobra like rapidity and gave me a slap across the chops so mighty that it fair knocked me into the middle of the following week! As the stars spun above my head I sensed rather than heard the sharp intake of breath from my horrified classmates. You didn?t fuck with Mr. Collette.
But if that happed now Mr. Collette would find himself serving a ten year stretch down the lentil mines of PC land and I would be in line for a ?100,000 education authority compo cheque with 12 months free counseling, on account of my psychological trauma, like. What utter bollocks, eh?
Yep, those were the days. Looking back now I see that Mr. Collette was the antidote to the natural anarchy and unruliness of our chavy school. He kept the whole thing on course, he kept order. We wouldn?t have learned much at all if we hadn?t been forced to. So Mr. C, wherever you are now ? respect.
Officer Dibble?s School Days