the_vulture

In order to try and curb the "Beef Jerky" nickname (see my previous post), I would pull a pupil or two aside, whenever I was called that, to ask them why they were doing so. Most of them, not really privy to the weird mental workings of the year 10 girls, did not have a clue. This gave me the opportunity to explain why that name had come about. That seemed to discourage a few, as it lacked any real negative connotations, and may have something to do with the reduction of the use of that nickname.

Of course, the drop in the use of "beef jerky," especially amongst the year 10 boys, may also have something to do with one boy's unfortunate attempt to make something out of the nickname. This lad, among the naughtier of the older boys, interrupted one of my explanations by attempting to spread one of his own, namely that the term arose because I have a small penis (I could see how a masturbation referrence could be derived, but a small penis?). I wasn't able to deal with him the first time he said this, as he pulled a rapid escape before I could call him back.

The second time, however, was quite decisive. The next day, I found he and his mates gathered together during break. On seeing me, they all began calling "Beef Jerky!" In a friendly fashion, I approached the boys and began my usual spiel, expecting the one lad to again interrupt with his own. He did not disappoint me. Unfortunately for him, he failed to realize that teachers tend to be observant and can often recall things about pupils that the latter may wish to be forgotten, like say, in this instance, that the lad had acquired a nickname of his own.

I got as far as "You know, that's really quite ironic coming from someone nicknamed Gherkin..." before being drowned out by the laughter from the other boys. The lad hastily started an explanation "Wait! It's not like that," but was shouted down by his mates with "You got cussed by Sir!!!"

It was all taken in good fun, though, and, since then, I've noticed that I receive a much higher level of respect from the year 10 boys, especially "Gherkin."

It's been a while since I've posted an entertaining tale from the classroom, but this one's worth waiting for.

I was teaching a group of year 11 boys it ICT (computer stuff). This group is ill behaved and one particular pupil (we'll call him "Mandeep") was becoming a major pain by snatching things out of my shirt pocket and nicking my employee pass card. He'd then hand these off to another pupil and I would have to go, from pupil to pupil, demanding my stuff back until whoever had it at the time finally gave in.

Truth be told, Mandeep and friends were not being malicious, but their amusement at the cost of my time and patience had become exceptionally aggravating and I decided it needed to end. It was time to teach Mandeep a lesson.

Mandeep snatched my pass card again and handed it off to someone else. Instead of asking for it back, I flatly told him that he would be responsible for getting it back to me. He exclaimed, as he had before, that he didn't have it. I explained that, regardless of whether or not he had it or not, as he had taken it, he would be responsible for all consequences should it not be returned to me.

"What do ya mean?" he asked, taking the bait.

I then began to elaborate,in a stern style, that, if I did not receive the card, he would be responsible for the cost of hiring a technician to reprogram the pass card system and replacing ALL of the staff pass cards.

Mandeep began to look a little nervous and began asking around for the card. Sometime later, he returned to me, explaining that no one would give it to him. I reiterated that he was responsible for getting it back. Nervously, he asked if he could expelled for this and I explained that, given his track record of bad behaviour at the school, expulsion was quite likely. He renewed his search in earnest.

Whilst Mandeep was occupied elsewhere in the room, I approached Mike, the pupil I suspected currently had the card, and asked him to return it. He refused, claiming that he didn't have it. In a low voice, I explained that, if he gave the card back, I wouldn't tell Mandeep that I had it. With a conspiratory grin, Mike handed it over.

With Mandeep out of my hair (and currently engaged in searching every corner of the room for the missing card), the rest of the class was spent productively assisting those who needed help with their current projects. Periodically, I would be interrupted by a nervous Mandeep, who would plead that he couldn't find the card. Each time, I would bluntly state "You took it; it's your responsibility to get it back."

Chance allowed me to play it up even further; I received a phone call on my mobile (set to vibrate) and stepped out of the class to answer it ('twas a call from my agency). Mandeep saw me re-enter the class whilst putting my phone back and, with some measure of trepidation, asked if I had called the head teacher. Without missing a beat, I assured him that, yes, I had, indeed, informed the head teacher of the situation. Mandeep asked again if I thought he would be expelled and I replied that it would be up to the head teacher to decide.

Mandeep's efforts to retrieve the card recommenced in earnest, beginning with another round of pleading with those pupils he thought might have it. They responded, quite emphatically (and this time with honesty), that they didn't have it and (as Mike had kept quite tight lipped about this) that they didn't know where it is.

Soon after, I was paid a visit by the head of year 11 (due, as I would discover later, by a chance miscommunication at the front office leading him to believe that there was a problem at my class). Again, taking advantage of the situation, I sternly asked if I could speak to him outside.

In the corridor, I showed him the card and then, loud enough for anyone in the class to hear, I explained the "situation" with Mandeep. He promptly came out of the class, perhaps to explain his side of the story or possibly to fish for sympathy. He was met, instead, by the convincingly harsh instruction to return to the class by the head of year. On seeing the look on Mandeep's face, it took all of the discipline learned during a summer acting course to keep from smiling. After Mandeep returned, the head of year flashed a canary eating grin; it seems that I was not the only one to appreciate the opportunity to give this class clown a taste of his own. The head of year then left to deal with other business.

I decided to let the charade continue till the end of the period, when I would then reveal that I had the card all along. I figured that letting sweat for most of the class would be far more effective in curbing that particular behaviour than any detention would.

It was near the end of the class, though, that this tale took a turn for the surreal.

I was assisting a pupil when I heard, from somewhere near the front of the room, Kelly, a particularly hard young man, state loudly "Brace yourself." With that warning, I turned around to see him punch Mandeep solidly in the side of the face. At first, I wasn't sure what had happened, as they both seemed quite posed, but the reaction from Mandeep was real enough. Assuming that this arose from some form of conflict, I quickly acted to make certain the two of them were separated. As I was doing so, however, Kelly quickly tried to explain that Mandeep wanted him to do so and that he did not "feel right" doing so. After talking further to both, it turned out that this was indeed the case; Mandeep, in a desparate bid to retrieve the card, went to Mike, whom he figured currently had it, and made a deal that, if he was struck by another pupil, Mike would give the card back. Mike, being an evil bastard (unbeknownst to me till then), allowed him to go through with it. He, of course, flatly denied making the deal.

I explained to Mandeep that, had I known this was happening, I would have ended this. I then revealed that I had card the whole time. I have never seen Mandeep look so down as he did then. Kelly even apologized and offered to let Mandeep hit him back (Mandeep declined).

Seeing that both boys had been through enough and did not want to carry the situation any further, I declined giving out detentions and simply wrote and filed an incident report, chalking it up to a random act of pupil stupidity.

My ploy had worked, however; since then, the snatching behaviour, from pupils in general, and Mandeep in particular, has greatly diminished. And, oddly, my rapport with both Mandeep and Kelly has improved substantially.

Yep, just another day at school...

Yep, it's the end of another week and, although it started off a little rough, it went fairly well. I even had some productive classes with my Hell 9s.

'Course, the most memorable moment of the week was a really embarassing incident that happened early Monday morning.

Quite often, I play a game known as "silent ball" with my students, especially my form group. This involves tossing around a hacky sack (a small bean bag). Normally, it only comes out for the purpose of this game, but, as of late, I've been getting a little lax and I've been allowing the kids to toss it around during lunch and form periods.

That morning, I was in the process of checking planners for homework and had allowed them to play with the hacky sack during form period to keep them out of my hair. I can put up with a bit of noise from my class, but apparently it was aggravating the Head of English, who stepped into my class to talk to me about it.

At that moment, one of my students tossed the hacky sack to another a student. He failed to catch it and it smacked into the head of the Head. Yep, it was a definate "aw crap..." moment.

End result? The student got a concern slip over the incident (despite my attempts to explain the situation), the Head and I had an involved discussion over the appropriate behavior of the class, and the hacky sack was confiscated (when she took it, she didn't realize that it was mine and I didn't think it was a good time to bring it up (and, yes, it does mess with the kids' minds that a teacher could have something confiscated by another teacher (chuckle))).

I suppose it's one of those moments that you laugh at later in life. Heck, I already am. Things seemed to have smoothed over and my form has been trying very hard to be model students in during form period (or, at least, they're responding to my cracking of the whip).

'Course, I still haven't gotten my hacky sack back...

Early last week I was called upon to deal with some issues of contention between members of my form (homeroom). One fellow, Charles, asked me to deal with a few other people who were calling him names and intimidating him. One student, Robby, had apparently even kicked at him to trip him (this particular event worried me as this didn't seem to be in Robby's nature to do something malicious). I sat a number of these people down during break to discuss the matter.

I was in the midst of sorting out the mess (including learning the other side of the matter; apologies were strongly owed on both sides), when Robby finally showed up to join the discussion. At this point, people were a bit heated and I wasn't looking forward to adding to the flames.

I told him of Charles claim that he had kicked him and asked him straight out if he had. Robby turned to Charles and said, with his typical air of completely friendly casualness, "Sorry if I kicked you, I was actually aiming for Tim."

The resultant laughter was a much needed tension breaker.