The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2755 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.

“You’re quite good at this teaching lark, Professor, have you thought about doing it professionally?”

Diane took a step backwards just in case. I wouldn’t have hit her in any case, she’s bigger than I. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about that.” She sniggered as much at my weak reply as anything else. “So how come you knocked off for two hours?”

“I was looking after the handouts—you might have needed more.”

“If you think I’m daft enough to believe that...”

“Alright, Delia told me if ever I got a chance to watch you teach, to take it. I can see why all the wrinklies at the extra mural department at UWE ask about the dormouse woman coming back to run courses.”

“That was only because I had Spike with me, she captivates everyone.”

“Ah, that would explain it.” She looked at me then the wrinkles around her mouth indicated she was about to laugh, I did too.

“C’mon, Missus, we’ve work to do.”

“Um—when I asked Pippa to take any calls for me because I was going to be assisting you in the lecture,” she blushed as she said this, “she told me that your dad wanted you to go to lunch with him, he’ll be here at half past.” I glanced at my watch, it was quarter past already. I dictated a couple of letters and told her to write me an essay on the ecology of woodlands to prove she’d stayed awake. Then I escorted Tom off to his usual eatery and settled for a tuna jacket while he complained about the calibre of students we seemed to recruit these days.

“Well you’re the one who’s a school governor—increase the academic quality of the teaching.”

“Ye ken fine weel that St Claire’s is a guid school. It’s a’ the ithers, they’re sae puir, hef thae students cannae sign their ain names.”

“This the improvement that our namesake has made with his academies and free schools is it? The man is a prize pillock.”

Tom sniggered at my summation of the Prime Minister, but I suspect he agreed more or less with it. If he hadn’t he’d have said something. Neither of us knew what to do about it but I was sure that bringing a respect back for the teaching profession would certainly help.

I read a story about some middle-aged woman teacher who told a boy off for continually interrupting her lesson and who when she told him to behave he as good as told her that she couldn’t make him. She was then accused of hitting him and throwing his mobile out the window. I suspect I’d have let him keep his mobile as I hurled him out the window. She was apparently convicted of assaulting the little toerag and might be struck off the teaching register, thereby destroying her career. I find it ludicrous that a kid can get away with saying anything to a teacher but the teacher has to play by the rules. I’m not sure allowing teachers to hit students is a good idea but there has to be a way to stop disruptive students stopping the education of the other children and making them sit on the naughty step seems unlikely to catch on.

It’s a sign of the loss of respect we have for everything, especially ourselves. Parents frequently have no skills in raising their equally idiotic offspring. The children have no respect for their parents and that then includes all authority figures like teachers and police officers. Children, especially boys are also so big today that physically overpowering forcing them to behave isn’t going to happen. It’s also sad that just one rotten apple in a class of thirty can prevent the other twenty nine from receiving an education by stopping the teacher from doing his or her job. At first it probably feels like a novelty but as the year goes on exam results will be affected and then it’s the teacher’s fault. Why does anyone go into teaching voluntarily these days—they must be stark staring bonkers.

Fortunately the problem isn’t as pronounced at university level, students who don’t want to learn are strongly urged to change their behaviour or asked to leave thereby wasting their own time and money. This is a particularly powerful incentive when you consider that students have to pay tuition fees as well as accommodation and so on. If you’re having to find £9000 ($12000) per year for tuition fees plus your other overheads it’s an awful lot to waste. Also because students are paying these large fees they have an entitlement to demand value for money from the university with regard to the quality of teaching and mentoring. We occasionally get these complaints and I treat them seriously, very seriously. Our reputation is very important, especially as one of the smaller universities—it is growing slowly but surely and I hope the courses run by my faculty are assisting in that growth of quality and reputation.

I discussed this with Daddy over lunch together with the newspaper story of the woman teacher. We’re pretty close in our visions of how things should run, which gives us a bit more leverage in getting others to see things our way; though some days it feels a very uphill struggle. I’m an idealist and very aware that it makes me vulnerable to more cynical elements, so far I’ve been able to shame them into leaving me and my utopian plans alone—but only because I bring in a good income for the university—yes, it all boils down to the moolah in the end.

“I wis glad tae hear ye’d been teaching thae day.”

“I had to, Hawkins fell off his bike and broke his collar bone, it was either cancel his lectures or find someone else to do it.”

“An’ it jest sae happened ye cud dae it?”

“I have taught it before.”

“I ken that, an’ probably better than most.”

“Could I have that in writing?”

“Whit that as a scientist ye mak’ a guid teacher?”

“Talk about a back handed compliment, that was one if ever I heard one.”

He roared with laughter, “Weel, it’s true. Ye’re a very guid teacher.”

“But not a scientist.”

“Oh aye, ye’re a scientist richt enough, but a better teacher.”

“Gee thanks, Daddy for the vote of confidence.”

“Ye’re no listening. Anyone can be a scientist—it just takes single mindedness. Tae be a guid teacher ye hae tae hae a dedication tae yer students an’ tae yer subject. Very few are able tae dae it really well. Ye’re one o’ them. It’s a real compliment, hen. Scientists are trained, guid teachers are born and ye’re thae best I’ve ever seen.”

I felt myself blushing. He teases me all the time and I get my own back as a real father and daughter would, yet when he means it he makes sure I understand the difference. I knew he liked the way I taught, as do some of my students—though not necessarily for the same reasons. I didn’t realise he liked the way I taught that much.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Aye weel, dinnae let it gang tae yer heid. Noo tak’ me back tae ma office, some o’ us hae work tae dae this efternoon.”