The auditorium hushed, spotlight fixed, she focuses on a black dot somewhere in another galaxy. The music plays. She opens her mouth and a clear bright note is launched into the void. Angels unfold their wings; babies stop fretting and young maidens hold their breath.
The fat lady is definitely singing.
It is indeed, all over.
I managed a year after the new college contracts had to be signed. A Faustian pact, and one I quickly realized I couldn’t keep.
Sod this for a game of soldiers, I’m taking my bat and ball, not picking up anything I threw out of my pram, I’m off.
I’ve done 34 years of teaching, fuck me; murderers get less of a life sentence, mutter, rant, stomp!
Teaching, or rather ranting as I call it, has given me an opportunity to bore for England on my favourite subject and actually been listened to….well, that’s what they tell me although I have my doubts occasionally. “ Have you listened to anything I said? Obviously not!”
It’s true that I have said some terrible things to my students but at least I warn them about my lack of filters. My excuse is that they do terrible things. “Please tell me you didn’t just stick that photograph down with PVA, and its not even straight!”. What did you cut this out with, a knife and fork?” “ Explain to me why this drawing of a fairy smoking a bong under a toadstool is in your mark making scrapbook!” “ Which illiterate moron did you pay to proof read this essay?”
Things I have never said,……. “That’s Nice”.