A Silly Thing To Say

I was sent to do a day of supply teaching in a rural comprehensive school in the English Midlands. Before heading out to the school from my base in Nottingham, I looked up the town on the map and thought to myself, “This can’t be too bad. It’s rural and they’ll be nice farmer’s kids. They’re far enough away from the madness of inner city life, they’ll be fine.”

Upon arriving at the school my first assignment was a Year 11 English class. I walked into the classroom to find the students had already taken possession of the high ground and were waiting to ambush me. After checking the door knob for saliva, I entered, eyes darting left and right scanning to see where everybody was and what they were doing. It was a disappointingly familiar scene. Several girls were engaged in a conversation about some poor soul who apparently smelt funny. A group of boys were testing their ability to land crayons on the heads of students passing under the first floor windows of the classroom. Another group of students had their heads stuck in a magazine of questionable quality and taste. Ah, where to start?

Just as I was about to make a plea for attention I noticed the rather tall, solidly built young man armed with a high calibre staple gun. His aim was quite remarkable as he hit students in the ear from ten paces. I knew I had to disarm the boy before he did someone some damage. “Listen mate, you’ll have to give that to me. Thanks.”

“Do you want it, Sir?”

“Yes, please.”

At this point the boy began to walk towards me and I felt a flush of early success. However, as he got within range, he raised the staple gun and pointed it in my direction. Before I could say anything he covered the space between us and held the offensive weapon against my forehead and said, “Do you want it, Sir?”

In a moment of perfect clarity I realized what a silly thing I had said. I suddenly did not want the staple gun and was ready to allow him to go back to shooting it at whoever he wanted. I was certainly not interested in having staples removed from my forehead. Why couldn’t I have just kept my big mouth shut? Maybe because I was a teacher and it was my job to ensure that the classroom was a safe place? Because I believed I had some sort of authority over these kids? Because I felt it was important to make a stand against bullying and tyranny? No. It was because I was too stupid to stop and think before I opened my mouth.

I had achieved something though. The classroom was absolutely silent. I wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Everybody was waiting to see what was going to happen. I figured I had two, maybe three options. Inserting my foot in the boy’s tender parts was attractive but probably unwise. Begging for forgiveness and possibly crying might have worked but I didn’t have a handkerchief. I instinctively went for the third option. “Yes, thank you, just put it down on the desk please.”

The boy seemed puzzled by my politeness and looked around the room for signs of peer support for turning the teacher's forehead into a pin cushion. The other kids were silent until a tall, blonde girl with an impossibly short skirt said, “Don’t be a twat Simon, put the bloody thing down.” I applauded her every word - internally, of course. Simon then simply turned around, put the staple gun on the desk and went and sat down as if nothing had happened. I wished I could have been as calm as him.

The rest of the “lesson” passed uneventfully as the students went about their business and I gradually regained my composure. As I left the school at the end of the day, I couldn’t help thinking, “That was a bloody silly thing to say.”