Mr. Mohammad was taking my Yr 7 class today. They are sweethearts but rather needy. I want to gather them all up and take them home. Mr Mohammad has been teaching them about Muslim prayer - well, it makes more sense than me teaching it to them - and he has devised a board game for them. They had a ball. (I notice they've stopped asking me when I'll be teaching them again.)
Year 8 were different. They came in in a very odd mood. I think it may have been windy out. Seriously: that's all it takes.
Mr Mohammad was also doing Muslim prayer with them and wanted them to learn the movements. He is a gentle man in every sense and I felt what he was doing with them looked rather good fun. The girls were certainly up for it.
Not Marcus.
I aren't doing that! (They're from near Bradford remember.)
I am working in the office next door with the door open, struggling to put together a powerpoint presentation on religion and prejudice for Yr 10 and I overhear all this. (Mr. Mo is so close to the end of his teaching practice now that I just pop my head round the door every ten minutes or so.)
Marcus continues to argue.
I aren't religious. You can't make me do it. That's gay, that is.
Mrs. Carol, their support assistant, looks about to have apoplexy so I decide to rescue Marcus before she gets to him.
Come with me. You can work in the office on the desk next to mine.
Strangely the little chap isn't at all grateful. And me having saved him from certain death. Mrs. Carol is a saint, but even she can be pushed so far.
Marcus come with me. That's not a request, it's an instruction.
But I've not done owt!
Yes ... maybe that's the problem.
It's not fair.
I can see this is heading towards a claim that his human rights are being infringed.
Yeah, now about that ... that's not strictly true is it Marcus? You've upset people and you didn't like it when that teacher called you a knob the other week did you?
That was you.
Really? I don't remember. But you're missing the point. It's not nice to be upset is it? Now just sit there.
I'm not doing any work.
As you please.
And you can't make me.
Whatever.
I get on with my powerpoint which involves doing a Google-image search for gay policemen.
I'm bored.
This is me not caring.
For God's sake!
Stop whining Janice.
For God's sake!
Janice!
I'm not called Janice.
Then stop behaving like one.
You can shut up.
Oh now that's just being rude and not at all grown up.
Well you're not being grown up.
Ahh but I am grown up.
I'm grown up too.
You're twelve and three foot two. Don't make me laugh.
I'm bored.
And boring.
Can I go back next door now?
Oooh, let me think. No.
It's not fair.
That's life, that is. Think on.
You're the horriderist teacher in the school.
Ahh. Thanks.
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