A Schism is a divide or split of opinions in an organisation, but you can find them anywhere really. Specifically for me, I noticed it all coming to light at Secondary School: the good teachers were always clever and supportive, and the bad teachers were always useless and angry; it was always easy to tell who stood where. Although there was no actual schism, I imaged it to help understand who was reasonable and who wasn't. So here are two teachers from opposing sides. All names have been disguised for privacy reasons, and I have included an entirely unidentifiable sketch of each person, as my art skills have faded somewhat over the years.
MRS BROWN
Cookery & Textiles
SCHISM SIDE:
Really, really bad.
Cookery & Textiles
SCHISM SIDE:
Really, really bad.
Mrs Brown is a perfect place to start because she is an extremely infamous teacher, not only to everyone in the school, but also many adults long since left. I seem to remember even one of the younger teachers mentioning that she was taught by Mrs Brown, before she shook her dismayed head and said no more. As for teaching cooking - the word "teaching" here means "shouts repeatedly until everyone has tears in their eyes" - the only reason for her employment, it seemed, was that she was the only available qualified cooking teacher, hire-able or otherwise. It seems as though she has been there infinitely, like an immortal sea captain from a Norse myth - raining down eternal torrents around anyone who comes too near.
On the theme of such myths, in my earlier years of school I never had much interactions with the older kids, but one such topic that cropped up time after time was, "You've got Mrs Brown? Yeah, she picks her nose."
A curious rumour though it was, it sprung up rather strongly in everyone's distaste for her. Often, kids would shout "Bogies!" whenever they saw her around. Once, on locating a J-cloth, I honestly, honestly, found it encrusted with small flecks of dried something which seemed too greenly odd to be simply crumbs. I can only supposed it was a prop devised by another student for a later reveal.
On the theme of such myths, in my earlier years of school I never had much interactions with the older kids, but one such topic that cropped up time after time was, "You've got Mrs Brown? Yeah, she picks her nose."
A curious rumour though it was, it sprung up rather strongly in everyone's distaste for her. Often, kids would shout "Bogies!" whenever they saw her around. Once, on locating a J-cloth, I honestly, honestly, found it encrusted with small flecks of dried something which seemed too greenly odd to be simply crumbs. I can only supposed it was a prop devised by another student for a later reveal.
Our first lesson was making a sandwich which, as I'm sure you are aware, is a terrifically difficult process, and so I was blessed to learn my mistake when she shouted at everyone for not buttering FROM THE OUTSIDE IN, SO AS NOT TO RIP THE BREAD.
I'm sorry, but, WTF?
She made everyone cry, I'm sure, which is always a terrible thing. Tears were in my eyes with her, because her voice was always set to "Shout" and her demeanour always to "Burn". If you can make someone cry that easily, I really think you ought to stay away from people. She made me scared of ovens. She's the kind of person who watches you to make sure you're not doing it wrong and then, at the very last moment of bending down to put your scones in the oven, she shouts "DON'T HANDLE THE TRAY LIKE THAT, YOU'LL DROP THEM ALL OVER THE FLOOR." The shock of which causes you to drop your scones all over the floor. As a character in a novel, she would have to speak entirely in capital letters. "I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL. NOW LOOK! QUICKLY, PICK THEM UP..." and so on.
I'm sorry, but, WTF?
She made everyone cry, I'm sure, which is always a terrible thing. Tears were in my eyes with her, because her voice was always set to "Shout" and her demeanour always to "Burn". If you can make someone cry that easily, I really think you ought to stay away from people. She made me scared of ovens. She's the kind of person who watches you to make sure you're not doing it wrong and then, at the very last moment of bending down to put your scones in the oven, she shouts "DON'T HANDLE THE TRAY LIKE THAT, YOU'LL DROP THEM ALL OVER THE FLOOR." The shock of which causes you to drop your scones all over the floor. As a character in a novel, she would have to speak entirely in capital letters. "I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL. NOW LOOK! QUICKLY, PICK THEM UP..." and so on.
The issue was because she was not a teacher at all; she was a woman who shouted and could use ovens. This meant I did not understand how the "magic" of ovens worked - all I knew was that I better take it out when she said, or I'd get told off for BURNING IT. Except many of the old oven were confusing and different - we all know what ovens are like - but, no, if you took it out pale it was always "PUT IT BACK IN. WHY IS YOUR OVEN NOT TURNED ON?," and never an explanation as to Why it was not ready, or How is was to be cooked.
I willed her to be nice on a particular non-uniform day where normal lessons were suspended and we went in for various goodness-knows-what "fun" classes. She was teaching us how to make booklets, and she wore an extremely garish pink jumper with green frogs on it. It was the first time anyone had seen her in anything other than her usual frumpy get-up of brown frilled top and brown skirt, with a pattern that would have rendered her almost invisible had she stood against a ream of 1970s wallpaper. Because I felt she had made an effort, I made a particular effort to be nice to her. Despite naturally despising her, I thought it would not be nice to go through life with people naturally despising you, so I made an effort to be nice. I sat there hoping and hoping my efforts would sustain her slight bout of jollity, but of course, after 15 or so minutes she just ended up getting angry anyway at everyone, and I naturally just hated her all over again.
I remember walking home feeling rather sad. The image of those happy frogs made me unhappy in the end; I thought for once in her life she was trying to be happy, trying anything other than outright rage - I thought she could do it, but she couldn't. The frog jumper was inevitably returned to her cupboard, ready to lay, forgotten, and wrapped around whatever happiness she once lost.
I remember walking home feeling rather sad. The image of those happy frogs made me unhappy in the end; I thought for once in her life she was trying to be happy, trying anything other than outright rage - I thought she could do it, but she couldn't. The frog jumper was inevitably returned to her cupboard, ready to lay, forgotten, and wrapped around whatever happiness she once lost.
MR LOCKSFORD
Geography (and Religion)
SCHISM SIDE:
A wonderful man. Now head of Geography.
Geography (and Religion)
SCHISM SIDE:
A wonderful man. Now head of Geography.
The first thing you notice about Mr Locksford, is that he is extremely, extremely tall. Well, maybe not that tall, but he is certainly the tallest person I have ever met. He has to duck down to enter any doorway, as his eyes come up to the height of the frame. He is also so far up that, by no exaggeration, when he throws his teabag in the bin, it gains such velocity on the journey down that an immense back-spray of tea licks halfway up his whiteboard, leaving a faint brown stain across any PowerPoint Presentation on display.
He is a really kind man. A gentle giant, you might say - although he is only giant vertically; the rest of him is slim. Being so tall, he also has an extremely deep voice in the same way that a tiny mouse does not. His voice is particularly audible from anywhere along the corridor including, sometimes, from the floor below, and what stands out most is his catchphrase, "Right then!" He says "Right then!" so much that once I counted 25 in one hour. Some people would pick on him, and ask, "Sir, sir, what's the opposite of left?" and he'd laugh, try to get back on track and said, "None of that now Chris. Right! Anyway!" accidentally.
Now, thank God I had an Atheist teaching us R.E.! R.E. was made compulsory by the government, for some very strange reason, so Mr Locksford took it on board as part of taking on Geography too. He was very considerate of all of our views, and listened with equal and open interest to both people like Christian ("I love God, oh yeah man, I love God,") and people like me ("Oh, for God's sake,"). It wasn't until after the lesson that he called me over and said, "David, there's a live webcast tonight given by Richard Dawkins in you're interested," that I knew where we both stood. He also made Geography into one of my favourite lessons - he looked out for me, and took interest in my fast-paced work; giving me extra things to do in advance of the rest of the class. We often played Just A Minute with him, where we'd talk about waterfalls or longshore drift or erosion - and I'd nearly always win, because I was very good at not shutting up, and Mr Locksford would pop into his cupboard and produce a Flump for the winner, bought with his own money.
Now, thank God I had an Atheist teaching us R.E.! R.E. was made compulsory by the government, for some very strange reason, so Mr Locksford took it on board as part of taking on Geography too. He was very considerate of all of our views, and listened with equal and open interest to both people like Christian ("I love God, oh yeah man, I love God,") and people like me ("Oh, for God's sake,"). It wasn't until after the lesson that he called me over and said, "David, there's a live webcast tonight given by Richard Dawkins in you're interested," that I knew where we both stood. He also made Geography into one of my favourite lessons - he looked out for me, and took interest in my fast-paced work; giving me extra things to do in advance of the rest of the class. We often played Just A Minute with him, where we'd talk about waterfalls or longshore drift or erosion - and I'd nearly always win, because I was very good at not shutting up, and Mr Locksford would pop into his cupboard and produce a Flump for the winner, bought with his own money.
Right then, anyway, he also, naturally, has extremely long legs. Once in R.E., Christian (who sat at the front) was off on another of his long "God loves everyone" replies, and Mr Locksford was patiently listening. He had installed a system where we would hold an orange ball - whoever held the ball spoke, and everyone else listened, so the whole room avoided descent into a debate. Listening intently, Mr Locksford leaned back in his chair and placed his feet upon his desk. Of course, having such long legs, his feet extended far out across the room to a position both near and level to Christian's head. I presume that because he is so tall, Mr Locksford also has to go to a specialist shoe shop for, while Christian was talking, I was able to see that on the bottom of Mr Locksford's shoes was etched a perfect diagram of the evolutionary stages from Monkey to Man. It certainly wasn't intentional, but it was funny. Christian did not notice.
Right then, once he told us the story of his dog. He said he thought he might get a dog - I think he implied he lived on his own or something - so he popped down to the animal shelter, hoping to find himself a nice Labrador or Golden Retriever. When he entered, being the exceedingly tall man that he is, it seemed that he somehow frightened most of the dogs to the back of their cages; I presume some had been previously mistreated, and were naturally wary. He said that only one dog remained standing at the front, barking and wagging its tail. It was a Greyhound, with teeth missing, and a frayed ear, and maybe a damage leg too, but it looked up at Mr Locksford, and Mr Locksford looked the many miles down to it, and he said, "Right then, I'm having that one." I always remember that he told us this story, and it always reminds me of how kind and accepting he is - to see right through the tattered exterior of that battered old Greyhound was genuinely heart warming. It brings a smile to my face whenever I remember this admirable man.