Two More Great Moments in Teaching.

Right, you remember the Mr Miyagi story? For people of a certain generation these two will be almost as good.

1) Sitting in our prep room, getting a physics experiment ready... Look up at bookshelf. Eye falls on random book. The author is JR Hartley. Yes. J....R... Hartley!!

Okay, so it isn't the piece d'resistance, the one and only, the rarer-than-rare Fly Fishing, but hell, it was a special moment for me. An actual book by the star of arguably the second best advert ever made. And don't even think about trying to tell me JR Hartley is not a real person. I'm nowhere near mentally stable enough to be hearing shit like that, 'kay?

2) Other great moment in teaching. They make me teach PSHE. or PSE, or PSHCE, or some shit like that. I'm not even sure. I think it stands for... nah, I don't even know. Anyway, I teach this on a Friday afternoon, and, of course, I never relax for a moment in my quest to deliver the best PSHCFSHHYHSE lesson I can, but I must admit that sometimes I fall short of my ideals and both the kids and I suffer.

Anyway, today we are learning about... Wait, cut that sentence short. Today (well, it was months ago, but I am writing in a certain style, so cut me some slack?). Anyway, today we are engaged in a discussion about the future careers of some of my pupils when I ask one boy (let's call him Cedric. Not because that is anything like his name, but because I think it would be funny), when I ask Cedric, what he wants to be when he is an adult (if I let him get that far).

"Footballer," he says.

"How fucking original," think I. "So," I say, patiently, "What if you don't make it as a footballer? Not everyone does, you know!"

"Oh, I will!" he says. He's good, I'll grant you, but he's not got snapped up by Arsechester or Chelski yet, so he's not solid glod (Is that a typo, or a deliberate play on words, suggesting that although footballers are wealthy, they can't even spell? You'll never know.) yet.

"But what if, " I begin, setting myself up for the perfect scenario, but never dreaming it might really fall into place, "What if," I'm getting excited, by the way. Not a lot, but just enough to get my heart beating a tiny bit faster, "What if, when you grow up," (Anyone see where this is going?) ..."What if, when you grow up, you're only good enough to play for Accrington Stanley?"

Now, at this point, I already feel like it was worth coming to work that day. It is not worth writing about in a blog yet, but it is a pretty good feeling to squeeze that line in anywhere. But it gets better. Oh yes it does. Now, some girls are annoying. Some are lovely. Some are annoying, but redeem themselves so utterly with one perfect moment in their lives that you'll forgive them anything for the rest of their natural lives. It is at this point Claire (See, I'll not even give her a duff name in something she'll never even read.) decides to interrupt with the perfect interruption. She actually said, and this is why I'll love her forever, "Accrington Stanley? 'Oo are theeey?" And I'll swear to any god you love, she said it in a Scouse accent, despite being a Hackney girl. And the best part was, she wasn't just copying the advert you and I all know and love, she was just asking!

At this point, I know I've not got long. With microseconds to spare, I manage to squeeze out, in an equally Scouse accent, "Egzackly!" Immediately after, I collapse the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter and spend the next five minutes rocking around unable to control my own body, let alone actually speak, and confusing the fuck out of pupils who, up to this point, were probably reasonably sure I was sane. My class file out of the room when the bell goes, but I am still unable to speak. Over the weekend, I gradually recover.

So, to go with the Mr Miyagi moment and the JR Hartley moment, I also have the Accrington Stanley moment. A genuine, unrehearsed reconstruction of the 1980s milk ad!