School is the best time of your life we are told. In a sense it is but I think it is because you are growing as a person, learning and interacting more than at any other time. You are under pressure not just from hormones but you have standards to attain, goals to reach and a definite timescale for the first time in your life. This is when the foundations of your future are laid. Be they deep and firm or shallow and prone to shifting you can never return to this rooting time. You gather within you a collection of experiences and emotions that are you. There are other stages for you to play on but this is the most diverse in cause and effect.
So let us get on with my senior school collected memories. We all have pet names for teachers. Some reflect the outer person, others the habits or traits they have but most are passed on through your peers. In many cases you never really know how the nick names came about only that they apply. There was, for example, in our English class structure a senior teacher more at home in the office than in front of the chalkboard. When called upon he would take class for an indisposed colleague. We called him The General. We all knew how to play him and no matter what stage of the curriculum we were supposed to be attending to all that was needed was for someone in class to ask, “What did you do in the war sir?” That was it! he was off down memory lane spouting stories whilst sitting back in his seat with his feet on the desk. Staring out the window at some foggy battlefield in France or Holland. Swishing his ruler as if was a sword and brandishing the board wiper as a hand grenade. Most of the class dozed but a few like me were fascinated. The General. Proper name for a proper gent. I also remember him having the biggest horn-rimmed glasses ever and always wearing tweed.
Breath!! Now this was a nasty piece of work. Not only did the name fit but this old teacher had sadistic tendencies. His favorite method of punishing naughty boys was with a long metal ruler. It was either crashed onto your desk as he walked between aisles, stalking us. Or he used to rap you across the knuckles. A serious offense like passing a not so secret note between desks would start with a very close face to face talking too, followed by the ruler. I think he was a smoker and most probably ate lots of baked beans at the same time. He reeked of the odorous compound of stale tobacco, halitosis, sweat and unclean suits. A classic case of his bark being worse than his bite.
Boo Boo was one of my favorites. He was the head of French and I suspect a part-time werewolf. He was short, stocky and dark skinned. He didnt just have a 7 o’clock shadow. He had one at midday and another at going home time. Rumours from the staff room of him having shaves in between classes were well founded. Though we never saw him disrobed you only had to witness the dark hair poking through the shirt buttons, out the collar and from below his cuffs. To know Boo Boo (named after Yogi bears mate) was very hairy. I suspect he would have had to be combed instead of dried after showering. He was also one of the house masters.
There were four houses in the school. My house was Red and called Newton Macaulay. All the houses were named after famous scientists. Each house had a notice board. Our notice board was most popular during the start of day. The house master, Mr Wallis, would beam with pride from his office. To this day I firmly believe that no teacher knew the reason for the boards appeal. It had nothing to do with what was on it but what was above it! As I said earlier the new building was a product of 1960`s design. The staircases were open and slatted. If you stood beneath and looked up you could see shoes, socks, trousers, skirts, stockings, legs and on a good day……. underwear. The main staff room was at the top of the stairs where Red house had their notice board. Fights always broke out when Miss Wright, one of Boo Boos staff would ascend.
Miss Wright. Wow! She was called “Legs” Do I need to expand further. Picture the era, the fashion, the fact she taught French and was fresh out of teacher training. Her lesson was the only one I remember where we would rush to get in the front row. She was quite short and whenever she reached up to write the date at the top of the blackboard in unison the front row would all fumble their pencils. One of the main bartering points at smokers corner was what colour her knickers were going to be the next day.
I am sitting here glass in hand as usual and something just popped into my head…..FLOBBIES. Now I bet most of you readers do not know what a Flobby is. Allow me to educate and imaginate. A classroom…the students studying hard all a scribble and a scratch of head. The teacher …….strutting like a prize cockerel…..hands folded to the rear……black board wiper grasped in dusty fist. The swish of jacket and trouser as he passes….the silent FLOBBY assault form those seated. Unawares the teacher grunts our smirks into silence. Even today I praise the young pupil who invented THE FLOBBY. I warn you now do not allow your minors to view what I am about to reveal for fear of a FLOBBY resurgence. For one I do not think todays clothes could adsorb a FLOBBY barrage. Ok first your target must be moving away from you facing front. You suck up some spit and force it through your teeth a few times to aireate. Using your index finger you run it across your lips depositing a FLOBBY onto it, you are now primed. As the target passes you simply raise your finger then quickly point at the targets back. The FLOBBY flies through the air and lightly adheres to the cloth. Success!! Sniggering applause from your classmates, which surges like a wave as the teacher passes them and they see your finger-work. But the beauty of a Flobby is that as it dries it fades to an outline of its former white foamy appearance. Only close inspection by Mrs Teacher or fellow staff would advance a cause for concern.
The GROGGY is a different kettle of fish though. This beast does leave a mark…..a green one perchance……very obvious….so best used near to the end of the day and rarely. Usually the best GROGGIES come from pupils with a slight cold or sinus problem. Do I need to illuminate. Yecch!! What a subject.
There I must leave you kind reader. I have left a trail of apostrophe errors for those of you with and editors eye… ;) Later I will continue with my collected senior school memories. My mind is awash with images and I am smiling as I just saw Breath copping a barrage of FLOBBIES whilst wearing a dark jacket, I think a few GROGGIES may have gone in as well. By the way please!! leave a comment if you wish me to expand any sections. I am shortening them for fear of boring you. I will not publish a comment if asked.
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