I'm always losing my keys. It cost my former employer thousands and they got inordinantely cross with me, which is never a desired outcome but what can you do? Latent dispraxia and tunnel vision do not make happy bedfellows when it comes to not losing small items. Here however, I don't think it's going to be an issue.
When I left Brize Norton three weeks ago I was wearing Kevlar, carrying MACE and was ready at any moment to take on some mutha with negative social urges with a oversized handbag and a large stick. The major cities wre 'gripped by fear' in the parlance of the red top newspapers by a bunch of marauding pubescents with blackberry messenger and a desire to get up to no good and possibly nick some trainers into the bargain.
While Britain burned and everyone got very cross about the riots, I couldn't help thinking that they were all a bit rubbish. As I have spent the past decade around hoodie wearing ghetto wannabees, I have got used to their ponderous ways and find them largely inoffensive. I can undertsnad why others might cross the street to avoid a posse of Burberry clad 6ft tall 15 year olds spitting and clogging the pavement outside McDonalds, but corridor habit has removed all threat from such an obstacle and I barge me way through muttering 'Pardon me gentlemen, walking here'. As the Burberry's also spend much time being shoved about corridors by teachers, they nary raise an eyebrow.
Why do they clog pavements and stagger about as if destroyed by drink? My theory is a complete absence of spatial awareness due to extremely rapid growth and blurred vision from playing COD till 6am. I always enjoy teaching a new year nine group because I know that by Christmas the boys will start falling over for no apparent reason. They will walk into doors, inadvertaly cartwheel across desks and from a totally still standing position suddenly and inexplicable tip over and fall down the stairs. Hours of fun for the observant teacher with a taste for slapstick, They can't quite figure out where their legs are and their feet have grown 4 sizes in 20 minutes ensuring amusing tripping over incidents that the girls think are 'pathet' and causes much heavily mascara'd eye rolling.
So you'll forgive me if watching news coverage of the rioting I opened a bag of popcorn put me feet up and waited for the inevitable pratfalls through plateglass windows.
Kids nowadays love the idea of being a bit ghetto, but its a load of pony. I want to see the Director's cut of 'Kidulthood' where amid all the maiming, procreation and drug abuse there are days of mind numbing boredom siiting on the swings and txting each other stuff like
'I'm on BBM R U. txtbk'
'yeah. RU txtbak'
'yeah'
I knew all this outraged upset about the state of Britain's rampaging youth was largely misplaced when a 14 year old was arrested for looting a Brabantia bin. Seriously! What sort of self-respecting adolescent goes and nicks something that could only possibly be found desirable by a menopausal woman or a gay man? It's like nicking a poster of Jonny Depp or an Eames chair.
Despite this, it's a fact of life that schools in the UK are a hotbed of what some might term 'opportunistic crime'. Over the years I have learnt through experience to lock away my handbag, hide anything confidential and never, repeat never leave my fags in my pocket. The amount of snout I've had lifted by ruddy kids could give every employee of Philip Morris a very healthy retirement plan.
By extension, I have had to lock my classroom whenever the inevitable urge 'to go out on the field and write about our senses' lesson fills me (usually during summer term when no one can be arsed anymore). I locked it when we went to assembly, when there was fire alarm, ususally period 5 on a wednesday when year 10 didn't want to endure science, or whenever a child impaled themselves on a spike/chair leg/broken window which required the rest of the class to leave so the emergency services could get in and get suturing. Ah! Memories.
If you didn't lock your room, ineveitably you would return to find the place looking like downtown Tripoli with the contents of school bags cast assunder and packed lunch sandwiches stuck to the whiteboard.
So I was amused today when leaving for assembly I instructed my form to leave their bags in the room and not to worry as I would be locking the door. They all stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me with a mixture of wide eyed wonder and deep suspicion.
'Why?' they asked
'Oh yes' I thought 'I am in Stanley'.
The idea that your belongings might not be safe in an unlocked classroom is as alien to these young people as the idea that one day they will be forty. It simply does not compute. No-one locks their doors here. Ever. Which is handy as I can never remember where my keys are. people will return stuff to you that you have left lying about for days on end.. And when you're on the lavvy quietly minding your own business, 53 kids will burst into the house and demand a sleepover with snacks. Very like being a student again really.
Just after the riots, I was walking through Swad when I chanced upon some of my miscreant year 9 form careering around the streets 'being hard'
'Alright miss?' they said.
'Gentlemen,' I responded 'Not in Derby doing any looting then?'
'Nah, too far innit. And Swad's rubbish so whats the point? Plus me dad would kill me'
In Swad there are eight shops and three of them are Poundstetcher. You can see the lad's point. If you live in a small town, you are very likely to get caught and get a kicking and it's not really worth it if all you can get hold of is a fake brabantia bin and a jumbo pack of J cloths.
You'd be much better served by going home, playing COD and growing so fast that teachers laugh at you.
I think its safe to say I will not be locking my door much. They would find it odd and the very last thing any adult needs is to be considered 'weird' by a buncha teens. That way madness lies, not to mention endless paperwork.
Boarh Out
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