The Garthe Knight

OK, so back to teaching. This was originally supposed to be an account of how I left the world of education and slipped, effortlessly, into another realm. Something more inspiring and less shouty. I didn’t used to shout that much; only behind closed doors using a pillow to prevent obvious bruising, but since becoming a teacher I’ve shouted at more kids than Old Mr (insert your own relevant name here) who knows who you are, your parents and where you live.

That’s the thing I really want to get rid of, this monster I’ve created – Mr Mills. At first it was a novelty, people addressing you so formally when you’re not used to it, but soon he becomes a separate entity with his own affectations and morals. The way I behave in a classroom is nothing like who I actually am as a real human. Anyone reading this (I know you’re out there, I can hear you breathing. Mum?) can see I’m a crass and sometimes depressed character who has wildly violent flights of fancy involving anyone and anything that could potentially get under my skin. So anyone and anything then. But this is certainly not who I am when the bell rings. Or tolls, if you like.

I don’t care if you chew gum, but Mr Mills hates it. I couldn’t care less if your shirt isn’t tucked in, but don’t let Mr Mills catch you looking like that. Let’s face it, Mr Mills is an arsehole – just check numerous desks for confirmation of this – and I don’t like the way he uses my face to shout out of. You can’t really blame me though, as a teacher you have to adhere to a set of rules I knew nothing about when I first started. They are as follows:

1. You must never reveal, even for a moment, any knowledge of popular music. Particularly hip-hop. Unless you refer to it as the hip and the hop. I have done this.

2. To all pupils you are now at least 48 years old and all the new haircuts in the world won’t change this. Trust me.

3. Any vernacular you may have previously used that could be interpreted as an attempt to infiltrate yoof culture is now strictly off limits. Nothing is cool or trendy to you anymore and the word ‘fashionable’ can only be used in reference to ruffs and Elizabethan Britain.

4. You now care about the environment in an overbearing manner and if a child drops litter in front of you it is to be treated as a hate crime.

5. You think children have something interesting to contribute to society and aren’t all just massive sponging oxygen thieves.

I also used to think that you had to be a walking leather patch who strictly voted Labour and read The Guardian, but this isn’t always the case. One genuinely surprising thing is that apparently you can be a teacher who votes Tory and reads The Daily Mail and this is perfectly acceptable. I can’t help but feel that’s the ideological equivalent of working in a children’s hospital but eating all the babies. Am I wrong? Mr Mills doesn’t think so. Pompous prig.

Anyway, he’s on his way out now and not before time. Puts me in mind of when Michael had to battle his evil twin, Garthe Knight, on Knight Rider. Look up a picture of Garthe Knight if you fancy laughing at Hasselhoff and if you weren’t bored of doing that about 10 years ago. ‘A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist.’ That’s me as a teacher! I never knew how similar my life was to Michael Knight’s – although I’m pretty sure I shout more than him.