Some scene setting is clearly necessary here; picture if you will a poor supply teacher tender in experience if not in years. He sits taking a well deserved cup of cha’ in a friendly staff room and is engaged in the pleasant task of having the urine extracted by a friend and colleague; one Andrew, a thoroughly nice man, with only one fault, the taint of Man U supporting.
“ I see you’ve got Maths with Y6 now then.” He offers as an opening delivery.
“Yeh, and, so,” I dead bat, dot ball.
“Mr. Jones has been coming in and doing logic with them, you know.” He pops one up in the block ‘ole, searching for a chink in my defence.
“Is there something I should know; are you trying to tell me something Andrew?” I dig it out with a straight bat.
Laughing now, unable to hold the bouncer back any longer, “They’ll dispute with you; he’s trained them up good!”
I try the hook shot and it flies over my head into the ‘keepers gloves harmlessly, but I’m a little shaken.
“What are you doing with them?” asks Andy all innocence, another dot ball.
“Decimals.” Again the dead bat, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my nerves.
The face all innocent concern, “Good luck.” He offers a good length ball, just down the off side, right where it should be.
A little more scene setting is needed; I’ve been in this class before and Andy is right; they’re bright and sparky, just how I like it. The thing is that today is Red Nose Day and five of the brighter sparkier girls who all sit in a gang down the front have been performing as the Spice Girls all through break time and they'll be a bit hyper after all that buzz. And the kids are all dressed up all day. This in itself is a tad, just a tad surreal. Hit the pause button for just a moment here; examine, if you will, how you might feel trying to teach a bright sparky class of eleven year olds all dressed in street clothes with the Spice Girls down the front demanding your attention. So; I agree, if you’re a teacher with fifteen years experience, as I am now, water off a wet duck’s back; otherwise its definitely somewhat surreal. Huge fun, but surreal. So, here we go ……… on with the motley.
Everyone came in and we all got settled down, complimented the girls on their performance – get them onside Jer – even though I hated the Spice Girls, and off we go with the introduction. Over the first few hurdles nice and smoothly, into the stride, water coming up, we’re going for the multiplication (safe an’ easy) and division (bleddy minefield) ……… easy innit mun – just move the decimal point.
A hand shoots up, Scary Spice; and I want you to know, they really looked like them, not just the costumes; the make up, the hair do’s, the attitudes, everything except certain curves here and there ………
“Yes Tracey.” Obviously names have been changed here to protect the innocent – though the guilty party is named and shamed! A stutter in his stride appearing unavoidably.
“That’s wrong.” She’s cool a as cucumber; utter certainty in her tone, body language and expression; eleven going on Professor of Maths at Oxbridge!
“Uhhh,” oh dear, the stride pattern is all shot to pieces now, will ‘ee go down in the water? “What do you mean?” if in doubt keep asking questions.
“You don’t move the decimal point,” she’s not being contemptuous, just laid back, just seeking to help me out a little, give me the benefit of her undoubted wisdom. “It’s the numbers that move.”
At this point I run off the track and pass her the chalk and she takes over the lesson, with a little help from Sporty aka Sharon, Baby aka Tracey, ( I kid you not, this is in Milford Haven, definitely not nice middle class kids; just bright. Oh, and sparky too.) Posh aka Charlotte and Ginger aka Jade.
Eventually when all that adrenalin had been burned up they let me have the class back, and then the bell went and we had lunch. We had all learned something; me I learned to let go a little and to let the bright sparky ones do the teaching; the class got a sound education in decimals; hopefully one or two of the girls got the feeling – Yeh; love this! I’m going to be a teacher. And shit! Any one who doesn’t believe in education being a right for ALL the people should go and spend a day there. In my day the school had a forty piece orchestra featuring a didgeridoo. Now there’s something you don’t see every day.
“So how did it go then?” a bit of a tentative delivery trying to get me to play forward and too early.
“Oh fine thanks.” I waited for the leather to come nicely onto the middle of the willow.
“Did they dispute with you?” he dug it in short again; the bouncer.
“Yep, they sure did.” I swayed back and watched it safely by.
“And how did you cope with that?” again with the short ball, the catcher out on the boundary waiting the false stroke.
“Loved it mate, loved it!” and the thing is, I did; six, over the beer tent and into the car park – go get the ball pal!
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