Yes, they were all black cloaks and whipping canes,

Mortar boards and half moon glasses,

But they also were the butt of jokes

As 1950s boys would chase the rats

Across their classrooms, explosions

In the science labs. The girls so quiet while

The boys are getting drunk in uniform

Between cross country and that algebra

That none of them remember now.

Those teachers are long gone, probably

About one hundred now, if still alive,

But those stories still exist, like something

From a Horrid Henry book – they live.

I love hearing stories about my dad’s childhood and the way he treated his teachers. He normally tells me them when I come home exhausted and tell him that I hate children. I think the stories are meant to make me feel better, but I actually just feel a bit shocked (although it is funny to hear when you’re not the loser that’s getting bullied by thirty twelve year olds).

And I’m always really shocked at just how naughty my dad was as a child. Those poor teachers that I always thought of as really disciplinarian because they were allowed to cane the students – they were actually just as hassled as us modern day teachers.

God bless all the teachers out there throughout the whole of history – you have never had it easy no matter what anyone says. When you have someone like my dad blowing up your science lab, you deserve a bloody medal.

Much Love

Rachel xx