Tag Archives: teacher

1346. In God we trust

Dear Ms Bramley,
Mabel and I were shocked to discover on class open day that a big banner across the wall read “In God we trust”. What sort of superstitious nonsense are you shoving down the throats of seven year olds? Mabel and I are atheists, and we are teaching Connie to be discerning and to be an atheist too. If the banner is not removed we shall be forced to send Connie to another school. It’s not easy being an atheist in today’s world.
Mabel and Reg Parsonage

Dear Ms Bramley,
Charlie and me were so disappointed in the second class open day of the year that the banner across the back wall that read “In God we trust” had been removed. We thought it a brilliant way to instil into Hector the values our country holds dear. We hope you haven’t succumbed to criticism from Mabel and Reg Parsonage who apparently had much to say on the matter.
Charlie and Gwen Green

Dear Ms Bramley,
Francine and I were so disappointed at the lack of posters on the classroom wall on open day. It represented for us the nihilism that has become all too common in our modern society. Bareness, blankness, espousing no meaning in life. We are donating posters of Hillary Clinton and of Kim Jong-un so that the children will have people to look up to.
Francine Smith and Deborah Coolidge

Dear Ms Bramley,
I was outraged to see the poster hanging up in your classroom during the third open day this year. There are many world leaders that would serve as an example to the children… but that!!!… Please remove it or we shall be forced to send Petros and Stavros to another school. The Clintons are no example to tender minds.
Boadicea Whitelock

Dear Ms Bramley,
The blank walls of your classroom during the fourth and final open day of the year was enough to make Dolores and I shudder. There wasn’t even a vase of flowers or any greenery or living creature exhibit in the classroom. How can the children learn to care for the planet when you present such a barren landscape?
Myrtle Bristlewick

Dear Ms Bramley,
Josie came home and said there’s a pet turtle in the classroom. No wonder the planet is on the verge of extinction when you entrap living creatures and enslave them away from the natural environment for selfish adulation and aggrandisement. Put it back where it was found, please.
Holly and Arnold Steptoe

Dear Mr and Mrs Bramley,
This note is to express our sorrow at the sudden and sadly self-inflicted passing of a much admired teacher and mentor. Charlotte adored her, and Nigel did too. In her memory we are donating a large framed poster to be hung in the school assembly hall, so that all will be inspired by your daughter’s life and death. It reads:
GOD SHED HIS GRACE ON THEE.
Yours sincerely,
Dirk and Bonnie Wotherspoon

1312. A rustic school

It was a sad day for the little country school. After two hundred and seventy-one years it was closing. It had always been a single teacher school, with the number of pupils ranging from twelve to twenty-seven. The twelve to twenty-seven pupils would in future be bused to and from another school three quarters of an hour away.

The children were all from local farming families. All former pupils seem to have lived good and profitable lives. All seemed to have got a good basis of education. Some, usually the oldest boy although these days perhaps the oldest girl instead, went into farming. Some former pupils had excelled beyond all expectations. One was a famous nuclear physicist. Another was a research scientist for the cure of tropical diseases.

It was a happy school, and it was the centre of the local community. If the pupils put on a concert, the whole district attended, even if they had no children at the school.

It was surprising that the school was closing. More and more couples with children were moving into the area; townspeople who had bought several acres for their lifestyle dream: two alpacas and a peacock. Or a guinea fowl with piglets. Anyway, one of these lifestylers to come into the area was Ms Claudette Armstrong. She was the one responsible for getting the school closed. She had written to the Minister of Education.

Mr Higgins, the sole teacher, had to be removed. “I distinctly heard him use the word “bugger” within hearing distance of a pupil,” wrote Ms Armstrong.

“Bugger me if I’ve never heard anything so stupid in my whole life. Not even when I went through university,” said Farmer Jack. “She should bugger off back to town from whence she came.”

“I’ll be buggered if I don’t agree with you, Jack,” chimed Mrs Nora Elworthy.

Their protests went for naught. Mr Higgins was removed. The school closed.

“Now we might see the local children get a proper education,” declared a triumphant Ms Armstrong. “For too long pupils in rural schools have been disadvantaged.”

1224. Testosterone

It was Fredericka’s first year of teaching at a High School. In fact, it was her first day. The principal had told her to “dress modestly”. Dress modestly! What an old-fashioned concept! What an old-fashioned expression! She would dress tastefully! Fashionably! Appropriately!

Fredericka chose to wear a loose white blouse with the top buttons undone. It was, after all, still hot from the dying summer. And she chose a “modest” brown skirt with a slit up to the lower thigh that was both cooling and feminine.

Well! The testosterone in the class of sixteen year old boys! Fredericka could smell it. It was overbearing.

“Boys! Boys! Open the windows! It’s stuffy in here!”

The excitement when Fredericka reached up to open a high window.

“Boys! Boys! Let us have less tomfoolery!”

That did it. That took the cake. Fredericka would not change the way she dressed. She wouldn’t change because of a classroom of chauvinistic sex-ridden boys. It’s the boys that needed to change. They needed to learn to produce less testosterone. Tomorrow she would begin such a lesson. She would wear the shortest skirt she could find, and God help any boy who misbehaved.

1205. Humbug!

 

Regan was a school teacher. She taught “the littlies”! It was Christmas Eve.

Little Johnny brought his teacher some flowers. “Happy Christmas, Miss,” said Little Johnny.

“How dare you, you brain-washed son of bigots. If I was a male you wouldn’t give me flowers. You’re giving me flowers because I’m a woman, and that’s sexist. I won’t accept your dumb flowers, and besides I don’t celebrate Christmas. I thought I’d taught you to ignore all this silly superstitious stuff and live in reality. Dismissed!”

Regan was clearly in a bad mood. She and her sister, Goneril, were to go to a ball that very evening. The Handsome Prince was insisting that their other sister, Cinderella, was to come too.

Humbug! Happy Christmas everyone!

1124. Something dear

Ann sat in class hidden away like a little snail in a garden of noisy cabbages. Everyone took part in the class discussions, but Ann was too shy. She rarely spoke, and when she did the teacher would always say, “Speak up.”

The class were given a writing assignment: Write about something dear to you.

Ann’s grandmother had just died. Ann had not told a soul at school, but she thought for her assignment she would write about her grandmother.

She did that.

“This” said the teacher “is full of sloppy sentiment. I didn’t believe a word of it. You should’ve written about something dear to you in real life and not pretended to be writing a mawkish load of nonsense for a cheap romance. I’m giving it a FAIL because the person you described comes across as a slushy mushy figure of idiocy.”

Ann smiled and continued to hate school.

(Footnote: I have the flu so will be lying low for the next couple of days. Of course, being male, I feel it so much worse).

1113. News from Hickton-in-Sticks

It’s been a month now, perhaps six weeks, since the town of Hickton-in-Sticks got broadband. Mrs Myrtle Beech said it was a great disappointment. She had waited months, even years, to start a blog and thus far nothing had gone viral.

“Nothing has gone viral,” said Myrtle. “The whole thing’s a scam.”

Mr Bristol Port agreed.

“I’d looked forward to broadband excitedly,” said Bristol. “But once you’ve seen one porn site you’ve seen the lot. In fact I get a great deal more satisfaction looking into the mirror. It’s blown way out of proportion.”

Ms Savannah Field thought the whole thing was marvellous. She was the town’s school teacher and the online computer games at least got the kids off their phones.

“It’s great for me as a teacher,” said Savannah. “The kids log on first thing in the morning and by the end of the day they’re reluctant to go home. Computer games are certainly a great boon for a teacher, and getting broadband in Hickton-in-Sticks has improved the quality of education the kids are getting.”

“It’s a scam,” said Myrtle.

“It’s blown out of proportion,” said Bristol.

“Put it this way,” said Savannah. “Things have changed for the better since we’ve got broadband. In the last month only five people from Hickton-in-Sticks have committed suicide.”

1089. Cultural clash

(First, a housekeeping notice! From now on there will be no daily story posted on the days there is a music or a poetry posting. All I’m really trying to say is: there will be only one posting a day! The music is posted on a Wednesday (New Zealand time) and the poem(s) on the first of the month and then at whim throughout the month. This is to prevent a gluttonous overkill! Thanks – Bruce)

(* By way of explanation for today’s story:
In parts of Polynesian it is insulting to stand higher than a person of greater status.
In parts of Polynesia it is insulting to look at a person in authority when being spoken to.
The list could go on… and on…)

European Teacher (seated): Makafalani ’Oto’ota, stand up. Look at me when you’re being spoken to. Look me in the eye like a man. I said stand up. I never told you that you could sit down again. LOOK AT ME. You’ll never get on in the world with that attitude. STAND UP AND LOOK AT ME. Oh God! You’re on detention. You’re utterly, utterly disrespectful. It’s impossibly trying to teach common courtesy to some people.