Dry Clean Only

All our work is handed in. The 100 or so adults comprising our course, could be found last week on the concourse of the education block frantically cutting and sticking their way to a post-graduate qualification.

Everything is now handed in. All that remains between us and our very own class (i.e. in my case my very own small army to begin the revolution) is The Final Placement. I'm at Big School. A Very Big School. With medium-sized ten and eleven year olds.

On the first day, there were no questions about Scotland and hyenas or my marital status and reading abilty. Instead, on the way in, me and my placement partner walked down the (long, long, long corridor) and two medium-sized boys held open the doors for us. In a jolly teacher fashion, my partner said
"Ho ho ho, there, do you want a tip?".
Unimpressed, the boy replied "No. Got any fags?".


Later. A lesson about nouns. Proper nouns, common nouns and collective nouns. Teacher explains that "people" is a collective noun.
"If I say . . .'the people voted no', then "people" would be singular. Can you give me an example of plural people?"
"Yes, Sir. 'I see dead people'".


Spatulas abound. The next few weeks are going to be very different from my last School Experience!