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I. STUDENTS ABOUT TEACHERS

EVELYN WAUGH. Decline and fall (1928).

Chapter Ø Captain Grimes

Paul had very little difficulty in finding the dining-hall. He was guided there by the smell of cooking and the sound of voices. It was a large, panelled room, far from disagreeable, with fifty or sixty boys of ages ranging from ten to eighteen settled along four long tables. The smaller ones wore Eton suits, the elder ones dinner-jackets.

He was led to a place at the head of one of the tables. The boys on either side of him stood up very politely until he sat down. One of them was the boy who had whistled at Captain Grimes. Paul thought he rather liked him.

'I'm called Beste-Chetwynde,' he said.

'I've got to teach you the organ, I believe.'

'Yes, it's great fun: we play in the village church. Do you play terribly well?'

Paul felt this was not a moment for candour, and so, 'tempering discretion with deceit', he said, 'Yes, remarkably well.'

'I say, do you really, or are you rotting?'

'Indeed, I'm not. I used to give lessons to the Master of Scone.'

'Well, you won't be able to teach me much,' said Beste-Chetwynde cheerfully. 'I only do it to get off gym. I say, they haven't given you a napkin. These servants are too awful. Philbrick,' he shouted to the butler, 'why haven't you given Mr. Pennyfeather a napkin?'

'Forgot,' said Philbrick, 'and it's too late because Miss Fagan's locked the linen up.'

'Nonsense!' said Beste-Chetwynde; 'go and get one at once. That man's all right, really,' he added, 'only he wants watching.'

In a few minutes Philbrick returned with the napkin.

'It seems to me that you're a remarkably intelligent boy,' said Paul.

'Captain Grimes doesn't think so. He says I'm half-witted. I'm glad you're not like Captain Grimes. He's so common, don't you think?'

'You mustn't talk about the other masters like that in front of me.'

'Well that's what we all think about him, anyway. What's more, he wears combinations. I saw it in his washing-book one day when I was fetching him his hat. I think combinations are rather awful, don't you?'

There was a commotion at the end of the hall.

'I expect that's Clutterbuck being sick,' said Beste-Chetwynde. 'He's awfully sick when we have mutton.'

The boy on Paul's other side now spoke for the first time.

'Mr Prendergast wears a wig,' he said, and then became very confused and subsided into a giggle.

'That's Briggs,' said Beste-Chetwynde, 'only everyone calls him Brolly, because of the shop, you know.'

'They're silly rotters,' said Briggs.

All this was a great deal easier than Paul had expected; it didn't seem so very hard to get on with boys, after all.

After a time they all stood up, and amid considerable noise Mr Prendergast said grace. Someone called out 'Prendy!' very loudly just by Paul's ear.

' ... per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen,' said Mr Prendergast. 'Betse-Chetwynde, was that you who made that noise?'

'Me, sir? No, sir.'

'Pennyfeather, did Beste-Chetwynde make that noise?'



'No, I don't think so,' said Paul, and Beste-Chetwynde gave him a friendly look, because, as a matter of fact, he had.

II. TEACHERS ABOUT STUDENTS

 

E.R. BRAITHWAITE. To sir, with love (1959).

Chapter 10

As the days followed each other my relationship with the children improved. At first there was much shamefaced re­sistance to addressing the girls as 'Miss', but gradually they settled down to it and the results were very encouraging. They also began to take greater care with their appearance, and their conduct was generally less boisterous.

I talked to them about everything and anything, and fre­quently the bell for recess, dinner or the end of the day would find us deep in interested discussion. I sought to relate each lesson to themselves, showing them that the whole purpose of their education was the development of their own thinking and reasoning. Some of them proved to be very intelligent - Pamela Dare, Potter, Tich Jackson, Larry Seales, Fernman – while others exhibited a native intelligence somewhat removed from academic pursuits, yet vitally necessary in the unrelenting struggle for survival with which they were already familiar. They asked me about myself – place of birth, education, war service – with an interest which was forthright and friendly.

Not all of them. Denham and a few of his intimates remained watchfully hostile, losing no opportunity to 'take the Micky out of me'; they were discreetly disrespectful and persisted in their scruffy appearance as a sign of their resistance to my authority They were few in number, and I planned to take as little notice as possible of their attitude, in the fond hope that it would disappear under pressure of the predominant co-operation.

But it was not to be as easy as that. One morning our geo­graphy lesson dealt with clothing: we discussed the type and amount of garments worn by people in varying climatic condi­tions – Eskimos of the Frigid Zone and their dress of skins; the thin cotton garments worn by Caribbean folk of the semi-torrid climes.

'Sir, I have a magazine at home, Sir, all with women with no clothes on at the top, black women, Sir, dancing and that'. Tich Jackson's piping voice carried a hint that his interest in the magazine was not entirely academic.

'Yes, Jackson, many people in the tropics wear very little clothing; some primitive folk are even quite content with a daub of paint here and there.'

'Like the ancient Britons, Sir, they painted themselves.'

'Yes, Miss Dare, but we must remember that painting was intended merely as decoration, and not as a means of protection from climatic conditions. Some people paint themselves in startling ways so as to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Some African and North American Indian tribes were very much inclined to do that.'

'They must have been cold, Sir.'

'Who, Miss Benjamin?’

'What you said, Sir, the Ancient Britons and that.'

'Not really; they lived in caves and dressed themselves in the skins of animals.'

'Fancy seeing a cave woman in a fur coat!'

Denham was always in there, sharp, quick, never missing a chance. The class laughed at his sally and I joined in; the image was really funny.

'Not cut to present day style, Denham, but utilitarian.'

He'd shut up while he worked that one out.

'Since the days when the Ancient Britons collected their fur coats straight from the animals, clothing in Britain has passed through several important stages and changes; there is at the moment an exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum which illustrates this change. If any of you are interested, I would suggest that you go and see it when you can.'

'Why don't you take us, Sir?'

Barbara Pegg was the large, freckled girl whose eyes always held a smile. She was looking at me hopefully. I had never thought of doing anything like that, taking this crowd round and about London, yet I found myself replying:

'If enough of you are interested, Miss Pegg, I'll discuss it with Mr. Florian.'

'Oh, yes, Sir,' many of them quickly agreed.

There was the sound of tittering from the back row, and glancing towards it I noticed that Denham and Sapiano, one of his cronies, were amusing themselves with something which Denham had in his half-open desk. I walked over and pulled the lid of the desk fully open; inside was a copy of Weekend Mail which featured an enlarged picture of a well-favoured young woman in the briefest of bikinis; Denham was busy with his pencil in a way which defeated the already limited purpose of the scanty costume.

I picked up the paper and closed the desk. Denham leaned back in his chair and smiled at me insolently – he had wanted me to find it. Without a word I tore the disgusting thing to shreads, walked back to my desk and dumped them into the waste-basket. As I turned away from him I distinctly heard the muttered 'Black bastard.' I continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

Denham's face was now a picture of vicious anger. He had wanted a row, that he might in some way upset the class, and he felt checked. The others looked at me in alarm when I tore up the paper – they were familiar with Denham's reputation, and their surprised, anxious faces warned me that something unpleasant was in store. I was soon to find out what it was.

 

Compiled by Nina Novitskaya


Date: 2015-12-11; view: 1158


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