Apathy Jack writes:

For this scene, the student whose skirt went missing halfway through the period (don’t ask, just don’t ask) will be played by Victim. A guilty-looking student who is suddenly attacked by Victim will be played by Thief. I play myself, sitting tiredly at my desk.

Thief “Hey! Could you do that later? I’m trying to do my work.”
Me “See, that’s interesting.”
Thief “Ack! Leggo! What’s interesting?”
Me “Normally when someone comes over and starts randomly choking you, you might be inclined to say, for example: ‘Why are you choking me?’ To offer a reaction as nonchalant as ‘Do it later’ implies that you know why you’re being choked, and that you accept your guilt.”
Victim “That’s right!”
Thief “Ow, would you let go? Thank you. Anyway, I have no idea where your skirt went.”
Me “Well, could you at least tell her if she’s hot or cold?”
Thief “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Victim “I knew it!”
Thief “Gak! Ack! Play the game! Play the game! Argh!”



It’s one of the reasons I like teaching: the image of the Thief scrabbling against the door, trying to get back in (after I locked them out in the hallway to discuss the matter) immediately before her body is slammed into the door by the Victim and her face smooshes into the glass like in a slapstick movie will linger with me for ages, whereas the two teachers coming to angrily investigate the noise fades like the morning dew...

Nothing compares to a quiet evening at home...

Apathy Jack writes:

There is a lot I could say about the recent rash of media concerning the terrible culture of violence that is causing so-called ‘fight clubs’ to spring up in our schools, but I’ll leave it at this:

Shut up.

Hoodrat High, as I have mentioned, had a fight club. Three goddamn years ago. (No, really, look here.) It doesn’t have one anymore because these things come and go in cycles; it got boring, so it stopped. It may have started again, and there are certainly videos on youtube featuring my former charges beating the living shit out of one another, but the vast majority of those videos are staged.

What’s that you say? You can tell a staged fight from a real one? Not if the school has a good Drama teacher, you can’t, and Hoodrat’s is the best in the business.

Some of them are real: just like the fights they videoed before the days of youtube were real; just like the fights before they had cellphone cameras were real. Sometimes the fights were to settle disagreements, or to “teach someone a lesson”, or whatever excuse bullying idiots use. And sometimes, they were for the same reason Edward Norton started hitting himself in a parking lot one night after his house burned down: because he had never been in a fight, and wanted to see what it was like in a comparatively safe environment. Boys do that sometimes.

Now, don’t think for a second that I approve of this. I tried to regulate the goings-on at Hoodrat, and even made the odd stab at shutting the damn thing down. However, my efforts were in vain, because, you know, they’re teenagers, and teenagers are weird homunculi composed of sixty-percent hormones and forty-percent not-taking-the-advice-of-people-who-are-cleverer-
than-them, who learn all their lessons the hard way.

Note to parents:

I know your cherubs are lovable scamps who would never engage in anything other than low-level, kids-will-be-kids style japery, but here’s the thing:

Hoodrat had a Fight Club. And a ‘Junior Jackass’ group who videoed themselves jumping off roofs. And a thriving marijuana trade, complete with dealers handing out business cards. And on at least two separate occasions, the space underneath the stage in the hall was set up with mattresses, lamps and video cameras. And don’t even get me started on the amount of sex these children had with strangers they met on overnight field trips. (It was a lot.)

But not your kids. Your kids are angels.

These are not truths that make me happy (I have an emotional investment in many of these violence-addled, sex-crazed lunatics – I don’t want them to engage in dangerous behaviour...) but they are truths. Parents know about ten percent of what I know, and, on a good day, I know ten percent of what is really going on.

The death of that boy recently was a tragedy. I started writing a thing about where the blame probably lay, but hell, it’s obvious that the mother is doing enough of that for everybody – and her son died; she can be cut a lot of slack in that area. But the idea that teenagers might be doing stupid and dangerous things is not news. Think back to your teenaged years; remember exactly how much your parents and teachers knew about what you were doing. The only difference between what you did and what they are doing is that, with the proliferation of cellphone cameras and youtube, parents are finding out about it whenever lazy journalists smell sensationalism.

Is that good? No. Was it good when you did it? Probably not. Is it something we should be concerned about? Probably. Is it the downfall of civilisation? I refer you to my previous point:

Shut up.

I see you’ve played knifey-spoony before...

Apathy Jack writes:

So, kid killed himself after a beating by the local fight club was caught on camera, you say?

I have a bunch of stuff to say about this, mostly revolving around the fact that everyone who isn’t me is a retard, but that can wait. Random stuff it makes me think of, though...

We had a fight club at Hoodrat High. When I read that Takapuna Grammar’s group had fifteen students, my initial reaction was something to the effect of “that’s not a fight club – it’s barely a fight ensemble” – Hoodrat’s had dozens of boys. Only three boxing gloves between them, which made things a bit awkward...

I approached the Head of PE at one point and asked him about setting up boxing as a sport, to be told in no uncertain terms that it would be too dangerous. I pointed out that way they were currently boxing – behind the library, whoever-loses-the-coin-toss-only-has-one-glove, and with a sixteen-year-old adrenaline-junkie as referee - could also be construed as potentially unsafe. I was again told that it would be too dangerous, but essentially from a PR standpoint; the students were going out of their way to hide, meaning no parents could see it, unlike setting up a dirty great boxing ring in the gym.

Can you spell ‘plausible deniability’ children?



No, I didn’t think you could. Moving on...

T’other day, all the junior school lurking around the gym after swimming stuff, some of mine decided to stage a fight. The Dean and I watched as their friends filmed their half-assed attempts to mimic a ferocious battle.

The Dean turned to me.

“Sir, do you want to go and remind those ladies that this is not the way students at this school behave?”

I wandered over, and shouted “Oi! You fia gangstas are doing it wrong! For a start, only one of you actually looks like you’re in a fight – the other one keeps smiling! Here, I’ll show you...”

It’s nice I can still give Deans the odd headache – lets me know I'm doing my job properly...

Culture of violence

Apathy Jack writes:

Monday

Me “Ow! Ow. Why would you hit me?”
Student “Because I’m seventeen now!”
Me “So?”
Student “So I’m a big girl now!”
Me “All that means is that you can get tried as an adult for what you just did!”
Student “What, do you want another one?!”

Tuesday

Student “Sir! Jasmine hit me with her jandal!”
Me “Now, I’d like you to think about the almost seventeen years you’ve been alive, and your behaviour during that time. Are you saying that this is the first time you’ve been hit with a jandal?”
Student “Well... No.”
Me “So surely you’re used to it by now and can stop complaining to me?”

Wednesday

Student interviewing me for the school magazine “Where were you before you came here?”
Me “Everyone already knows that.”
Student “Right, Hoodrat High. What’s your highlight at this school so far?”
Me “Not being beaten up by any of the girls.”
Student “Haha!”
Me “Why you laughing? That’s a serious concern!”

Thursday

Chatting to two students; one in my class, one not.

My student (to her friend) “You should see him when he gets angry; he goes all pink.”
Me “That’s not me angry. This is me angry. That’s me enraged.”
My student “How can this be you angry? Isn’t this you normal?”
Me “Yes. Anger is my normal state. Anger is what keeps me upright and ambulatory.”
My student “I think you might have a problem with anger, Sir.”
Me “I’m going to hit you with a chair soon.”
My student “A chair?”
Me “Yeah, back at Hoodrat I’d often walk around with a chair slung over my shoulder. It was my Hitting Chair. I used it for hitting.”
My student “You hit people with a chair?”
Me “Hey, you still have that friend who was in my class at Hoodrat don’t you? Ask him.”
My student “No, I believe you. But I think that just proves my point.”
Me “Right, that’s it, come ’ere!”

Friday

Student “Sir, you can’t hit us anymore. We’ll go to the police.”
Me “You’ve got to reach the door first.”
Student “But there are more of us than there are of you.”
Me “Doesn’t matter – you’re going down.”
Student “You couldn’t stop all of us.”
Me “I’m not talking about stopping everyone. Just you. I have no idea how the group en masse would fair; many would doubtlessly escape, they may even bring an end to my reign of terror. But you are going down. Still seem like a good idea?”
Student “Not anymore, no.”