First day back and I have already eaten my lunch.
By lunch time, I had also eaten my pride. There is this rather stiffly-mannered man who fulfils the role of deputy head. In another life he would have been a clerk of a batman (not the one with Robin). He has been getting on my nerves of late. He falls into the teacher clichés whose mantras revolve around only being there for the children:
The children are in our care. They have issues. They can do not real wrong even when they attempt to murder a member of staff with a knife. These issues are real and the likes of any feelings emanating from a supply teacher are fictitious nonsense. Oh, and by the way, as a supply teacher you are in possession of exactly no, zero, zilch, niguna rights. Hey ho pallio, there you go!
So this, ever so slightly, butler has been getting on my male breasty-pumps of late and I know that I ought not to let real-world responses creep into my way of thinking; but they have.
He keeps interfering. When I ask him to speak to a particular class of non-compliant students, he enters into a rather vicarly sermon concerned with the expected excellent behaviour of students at the school. He has obviously delivered this so many times that he has trained himself not to stutter on particularly emotive points (which I think he would have done previously).
He speaks to me as if I am an underling, again in a vicarly manner that serves to induce an emotive response from me. Once faced with a little defiance from underlings, he takes stock, appears slightly piqued, concerned, and confused, then searches his memory data in order to find an appropriate response. For me he is an ideal senior leader who has managed to put the ‘less’ into ‘spine’. Oh Lord how we do praise thee for these bountiful gifts.
Actually, I can’t knock him for what he has managed to find, which is another piece of my genetic jigsaw, the piece that has a tattoo which spells, ‘ain’t taking no shit’. Yes another bit of the old Mikey has returned. They thought that he had possibly broken-up on re-entry into the artificial atmosphere of academia, but no, he’s back, he’s hungry, and he’s a bloody animal! Many thanks for Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Spike in particular for that one.
There’s a fat clock behind me slurping out the seconds.
I have decided to vamoose as soon as possible from this monastic cell. I want to beat the buses, beat the traffic, and not to beat myself-up about my decision to not eat the old brown-gold of others. They have been at it again, polishing their turds for table duty, but I’m not having it.
I’m on a diet and that diet forbids the consumption of faecal matter be it human or Bull.