Doing my duty
Yesterday evening was a parents meeting. The first meeting of the year runs like this. We sit in a conference room and are told all about the college and how well the pupils did in last years exams (better than national and local averages), how small the classes are (between 24 and 28), etc., etc. Then we are sent off to the classroom allocated to our child’s class. The teachers come round in turn to tell us about what they will be doing in class and how they feel about discipline and odds and ends. Nine families out of twenty four were represented

First came the biology teacher who is also responsible for the class this year. I used to work with her and she is very enthusiastic about her subject. In fact they will be studying ‘man’ this year, we got a taste too, she concluded by telling us that even rats have a place in the order of things. I understand that, but I think some of the parents think she’s got a screw loose. Bless her.

Olivier’s French teacher reminded me of my last English teacher. ‘The worst class I have ever taught’, ‘They can’t spell’, ‘They can’t construct a sentence’, some of them ‘Can’t read out loud’. He thought that on the whole the class was willing to learn (fortunately). As he was leaving he reassured us that all 14 year olds throughout France were just as bad. Olivier quite likes him. He’s very strict and the classes are ‘calm’, they get on with their work without problems. He gave Olivier a ‘mission’ the other day and handed him a paper to deliver, telling him to hurry up or the paper would self destruct within 45 seconds. I wonder what his favourite series was?