Chapter 39 — The Failure Document

Teaching is a profession and administered by professional people. What utter bollocks. The first part may be right, but the second certainly isn't. I've met more professionalism in some bricklayers and joiners than I have in some teachers. I can remember being sat in the smoke room at Westborough, a small cupboard of a room nested at the back of the main staff room, and listening to two teachers backbite about another teacher. If you're on a PGCE or a supply teacher, the 'real' teachers don't notice you: you're invisible and so was I, there on that afternoon listening to these two professionals stabbing another professional in the back.

Moments later, the teacher who was being stabbed in the back entered the smoke room, and the malicious gossip ceased, and idle chatter took its place. One of the backbiters then left, and the remaining two then began backbiting the one who had just left, all within the space of five minutes. I know there'll be some who say, 'Yes, but that happens everywhere.' But everywhere people don't call themselves professionals. Anyway, I'm moving off track and need to draw attention to the real reason I brought up the term 'professionalism'.

I'd done near on a full year at the school, and there were only a few days left before finishing. It was a Wednesday, and the other two girls on the PGCE course, who taught in Science, had been given their proformas saying that they had passed, but I was still waiting for mine. There was no exam or test but simply observations from your Tutor, or in my case the creature, stating that you'd successfully undertaken all the teaching and learning that was necessary. It was impossible to get to that stage and fail, as you'd have either left the course earlier, or been chucked off it as a complete incompetent, or given a support programme to help you successfully get through it.

I was walking down the corridor between two lessons and was in a great hurry to get to the next class before the students arrived when I was suddenly stopped by the creature.

'Here, sign this,' she urged.

'I'm sorry, but it'll have to wait, as I've a class waiting.' I always availed every opportunity to deny the creature. I then left, leaving her with this bunch of papers in the corridor.

Later, I was just about to leave and set off home when she suddenly, like some spectre, appeared from out of nowhere.

'I'm in a hurry. Can you quickly sign this, as I have to get going.'

The creature's face was flushed, and you could tell she was extremely agitated. My suspicion was roused.

I took the papers and began to read the first page she was desperate for me to sign.

'Can you just sign the paper, and I can get off.'

'No, I cannot, and I will read it first.'

It was then the creature tried to snatch back the papers, but they were now firmly in my possession. I quickly read the part which she wanted me to sign. It was an acknowledgement that I'd failed the course. I kept my temper and moved towards the photocopying machine.

'Just sign the damn thing, will you.'

'No, I'll photocopy it, and you can have the photocopy, and I'll keep the original to take back to the University, as they'll want to contact your Head to discuss this, don't you think?' I gave her an ironic smile, and she didn't wait for the copy, but headed out quickly from the staffroom.

I photocopied the pages and then went into the smoke room to read them. Unbelievable. The creature, and the sister-in-law too, had written up a totally subjective account of my year at Westborough. They didn't submit one piece of credible or factual evidence that I'd not performed adequately. It was a mishmash of emotional rubbish. And they wanted to surreptitiously get me to sign it in the corridor. I rang the University and headed off there on the bus.

Sarah met me, and we discussed the options. She wanted to go in all guns blazing and drag out the Head teacher for allowing such 'professionals' to practise in a school. I was more reserved and was intrigued to see what the creatures' response would be the next morning, now that they knew I had a powerful piece of evidence against them. It was agreed that I would attend the school the next day as normal and see what occurred before making any final decision.

The next morning came, and I didn't have any teaching for the first two sessions, and I sat idly puffing on a cigarette in the smoke room when the creature and her sister-in-law entered.

'Karl,' – the woman had never addressed me as 'Karl' before – 'Miss has made a terrible mistake,' pointing to her sister-in-law, 'and she has signed the wrong thing.'

'And what about you? Did you sign the wrong thing, too, as your signature is on there as well?'

'I was in a hurry and didn't know what I was signing to be honest.'

'Bullshit. You knew you were signing a document failing me, and that I would have wasted a full year here, didn't you? Both of you?'

'We want to sign it again, and tick the Pass box if that's okay?'

'And what about all this emotional and unsubstantiated trash? What about that? In fact, I've an idea!'

The two creatures looked at one another, fearing what was about to be done. I couldn't resist sucking every ounce of revenge from these two so-called professionals.

'I'll tell you what we'll do. You are going to write it again, only this time, I'll be present as you both write it, and I'll make sure what you write is entirely fitting with my professional performance here at this school. Failing that, the university wants to drag in your head teacher and have you both disciplined, but I fear that's all it'll be, and once I'm gone, things will be back to normal for you both, and I wouldn't have had any enjoyment from it. Now, do you have a blank proforma?'

All three of us then headed off to the classroom, where a blank proforma was retrieved. We sat around a desk, and I began, 'We'll start with you writing down: Karl has been an exceptional student to have at Westborough...'

When the two creatures had signed and finished one of the finest eulogies ever given to a student, I gave them back the two old copies. They both stood up, and the ugliest one couldn't resist leaving without a comment. 'You fucking wanker.'

I passed the PGCE with glee.