My science teacher was probably by modern standards insane. Lived for his kit car which had to be regularly cleaned by the 'chosen ones' from the class. Dressed like a wigged out hippy and had not a clue about the practical side of teaching recaltrant 15 year old socially challenged pupils.
He had an attractive girlfriend that constantly told him to fcuk off in front of the class when she showed up and bore a strange and uncanny resemblence to Bo Derek in the minds of wank weary pre pubcesents and dreamers. I fondly remember having shady hand shandys thinking of her
His crowning glory to the school in my last year there was to be able to set said car on fire in the staff car park and destroy the headmasters and assistant heads cars in the process. Much merriment followed and his departure was both sad and memorable. Bless you Cecil
The english teacher was an atypical true blood bulldog by the name of Tweed. He didn't really teach us that much during his time, however managed to impart the basics of life in a form that would shock the very core of Marjorie Proops and the greater 'blue rinse' brigade.
He discussed the finer points of masturbation and exotic pleasure of the flesh. Going on to deliver the finale that he, in a fit of depression had tried to hang himself.......and thankfully had failed in the attempt. We breathed a sigh of relief and waited with baited breath at his next installment of life and what it has to offer the frustrated, horny and brainless.
As a youth I made some mistakes, however my parents thought that it would be a learning experience for me to attend a catholic school in Armagh. this in itself is not a major chapter in the annals of life, the fly in the ointment was that I was aligned to the protestant faith! A lesson that was learned with some personal and physical discomfort over the next few terms. Best years of your life.............My arrse
In summary most of the teaching establishment are as mad as a bag of frogs. At least that covers the one's that I encountered!
I always had a lot of respect for my teachers as they had all served in the War, and were mostly RAF aircrew for some reason.
Accordingly I have no respect for my children's teachers who have not, and I treat them all with derision when I have to speak to them. Had cause to speak to my son's headmaster recently, and took great delight in calling him by his first name when he tried to introduce himself as "Mr ***", then crushed his hand when handshaky time, then sat in the best chair in the room when he wanted to start the interview. Dominated throughout, and led the interview with my son.
Long Interrogation Course, 1999. One of the most entertaining I did, and a gift that just keeps on giving.
I had a slightly unbalanced supply teacher for a few months who had been in the BSAP during the bush war in Rhodesia, a country I had no idea had even existed until he became our teacher.
Apart from understanding his accent the biggest challenge in the class was stopping him from going into a major lamp swinging session in every period. By the time he moved on to another school we knew more about Rhodesia than we did about Scotland, the lads all idolised him (the non neds that could think beyond his previous occupation at least), the future head girl was getting to be an expert at being appalled by his stories and I wanted to join te BSAP after leavving school. I was a bit disappointed to learn that wouldn't be as easy as I thought it would.
Torture and corporal punishment were still allowed when I was at school. Physics teacher would punish us for misbehaviour by charging the Van def Graaf generator to a couple of hundred thousand volts and attaching it to us.
Abu Grahib was a holiday camp compared to my school.
All chemistry teachers are bonkers - fact. If they aren't when they start out as a teacher, they soon will be, it's the result of being exposed to so many chemicals.
Both my chemistry teachers made a habit out of blowing things up, putting potassium in dishes of water, making gunpowder (and inadvertantly giving us the recipe) and setting fire to the ceiling/lab technician/front row of students/shrubbery/playing fields. One of our teachers was still exposing us to mercury, because no-one had told him it was carcinogenic - it was probably the Hg fumes that made him 'eccentric'. I really should have taken chemistry at A-Level, but I chose Biology instead because the teacher was fit.
Got the dreaded 'SEE ME' scrawled across my science homework. The teacher was an ex-boxer from SA.
Come the next lesson, I was called up to the rostrum. After the ritual humiliation, during which I remained resolutely silent, he suddenly shot out a straight left, which, clipped me neatly on the point of the chin, and sent me staggering off the rostrum and into the front row of the class (my, how they laughed).
I recovered, and went back up to the rostrum. When he had finally finished ranting he said that he was '...not going to take the matter any further...' as I had 'taken the punch well!'
My Biology teacher was an alcoholic. If he wasn't swaying in front of the class, you would find him in the cupboard getting stuck into some concoction which he'd managed to make. Probably wasn't legal but he was good for a laugh. He owned a rubber plantation in Malaysia I seem to remember.
Then there was the Science teacher, Miss Brown (don't say Brown, say Hovis). She was a real looker, gorgeous boobs and long blonde hair who was letched at by all the males in the class (and probably some of the females as well). I never missed one of her classes.
Then the Physics psycho, Mr Bull. He would stand behind the girls and try to look down their blouses, dirty (lucky) t**t! If he saw that you had noticed, he'd come up behind you and belt you on the back of the head with a steel ruler.
No PC stuff in those days. Would love to meet the guy now though!
My woodwork teacher at school had no fingers on his left hand. He was remarkably like that DIY character Kenny Everet used to do on his show. I never liked Woodwork and every time Mr Johnson went of to cut some wood for us we all used to standby for the screams
I had quite a few 'characters', the history teacher who had worked in Argentina during the Peron regime, many interesting stories there, the english teachers who had both been on convoy escorts to Murmansk, the head janitor who had been a submarine coxswain during the war, the latin teacher who would line us up for one of the tawse on the way into class to 'save time' and the physics teacher whos favorite punishment for us was to make you stand n the bench and blow up a balloon until it burst. Boy did we have fun at school.