PUFFIN BOOKS
The Day Our Teacher Went Batty
Gervase Phinn is a teacher, freelance lecturer, author, poet, educational consultant, school inspector, visiting professor of education and, last but by no means least, father of four. Most of his time is spent in schools with teachers and children.
He is the author of The Other Side of the Dale, Over Hill and Dale, and Head Over Heels in the Dales. His first poetry collection, It Takes One to Know One, is also available in Puffin.
Also by Gervase Phinn
IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE
For older readers
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DALE
OVER HILL AND DALE
HEAD OVER HEELS IN THE DALES
Gervase Phinn
The Day Our Teacher Went Batty
Illustrated by Chris Mould
PUFFIN BOOKS
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
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‘Classroom Creatures’, ‘SchoolTrip’, ‘Book Week’, ‘Class Discussion’, ‘The Little Chatterbox’, ‘Bible Class’, ‘My Teacher’, ‘Christmas Presents for Miss’, ‘Parents’ Evening’, ‘Interrogation in the Nursery’, ‘Poetry Lesson’, ‘Farmgirl’, ‘Asking Questions’, ‘Mr Lee Teaches Poetry’ and ‘Once Upon a Time’ first published in Classroom Creatures, by Roselea Publications, 1996 ‘It Takes One to Know One’, first published in Crack Mother Yolk, edited by John Foster, by Oxford University Press, 1996
This collection published 2002
17
Text copyright © Gervase Phinn, 2002
Illustrations copyright © Chris Mould, 2002
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-14-195682-4
Contents
Nativity Play
Question and Answer
Exam
Truth Will Tell
Infant Nativity
Dinner Time
Parents Like You To
Less Able
Clear English
Last in the Queue
A Proper Poet
Uncle Eric
School Visitor
Sister Says
The Teacher
Little Philosopher
Bonfire Night Blues
The Lucky Horseshoe
Epitaph
Out Fishing
A Parent’s Prayer
Rhyme-time
Pageboy
The Parent’s Warning
Signs of the Times
Dominic
Accident
The Inspector Calls
Will You Come to My Party?
Conversation with the Infant
What’s What
I Would Sooner
Conversation with the Teacher
Conversation with the School Inspector
Bonfire Night
The Day Our Teacher Went Batty
Love Poem
Day Out
A Father’s Advice to His Son
Asking Questions–
With Bells On
My Dad Remembers
In the Queue
Telling Teacher
Cat and Dog
Conversation with the Parent
Star Turn
A Word of Warning!
Mother Said
Brother Said
As You Were
Angel in the Cloakroom
Becky’s Tree
Up the Stairs
Dreaming
Spelling
The Song of the School Inspector
Baking
Lament
The Sweet-shop Rap
I’m Not Scared
Our Cat Cuddles
Interview with the Headmaster
Lizzie’s Spider
When I Grow Up
When Lizzie Was Born
Golden Grannies
Alphabet of Love
Last Word
Index of First Lines
Nativity Play
Oh, Miss, I don’t want to be Joseph,
Miss, I really don’t want to be him,
With a cloak of bright red and a towel on my head
And a cotton wool beard on my chin.
Oh Miss, please don’t make me a shepherd,
I just won’t be able to sleep.
I’ll go weak at the knees and wool makes me sneeze
And I really am frightened of sheep.
Oh Miss, I just can’t be the landlord
Who says there’s no room in the inn.
I’ll get in a fright when it comes to the night
And I know that I’ll let Mary in.
Oh Miss, you’re not serious – an angel?
Can’t Peter take that part instead?
I’ll look such a clown in a white silky gown,
And a halo stuck up on me head.
Oh Miss, I am not being a camel!
Or cow or an ox or an ass!
I’ll look quite absurd and I won’t say a word,
And all of the audience will laugh.
Oh Miss, I’d rather not be a Wise Man,
Who brings precious gifts from afar.
But the part right for me, and I hope you’ll agree,
In this play – can I be the star?
Question and Answer
‘And where did you go on holiday this year, Richard?’
Asked the teacher.
‘We went to Mablethorpe, Miss,’
The little boy replied.
‘And did you go on a donkey?’
Asked the teacher.
‘Oh no, Miss,’
The little boy replied,
‘On a bus!’
Exam
An angry sun glared through the high window.
The hall was stifling and stuffy,
And we were wet with sweat and breathless,
Sweltering in our seats, sizzling,
Wilting in the heat,
Glued to the paper with sticky hands.
All was quiet, all was still,
Save for the teacher’s gentle snoring.
He has fallen asleep at his desk.
Truth Will Tell
A small child was splashing poster paint
On a great grey piece of paper.
‘Do you paint a picture every week?’
Asked the school inspector.
The small child shook his little head.
‘
Hardly ever as a rule,
But Miss said we’ve got to paint today –
There’s an important visitor in school!’
Infant Nativity
He looked like a little angel,
With his round eyes as blue as the sky,
And an innocent, childlike expression.
He peered through the curtains at the assembled parents,
Dressed in his white silk costume trimmed with silver,
And waited for his entrance.
He turned to his friend and whispered:
‘If Miss thinks I’m being a flipping snowflake next year,
She’s got another think coming!’
Dinner Time
The important visitor smiled widely.
The infant munched and crunched his biscuit
And stared with wide, unblinking eyes.
The important visitor said:
‘My little boy demolishes food like a dinosaur too.’
The infant replied between bites:
‘He eats raw meat then, does he?’
Parents Like You to:
Watch your manners,
Be polite,
Tidy your room,
Switch off the light,
Wash the dishes,
Polish your shoes,
Brush your teeth,
Watch your p’s and q’s,
Kiss your auntie,
Never swear,
Eat your greens,
Do your homework,
Go to sleep,
Set the table,
Wipe your feet,
Flush the toilet,
Sweep the path,
Change your socks,
Have a bath,
Sit up smartly,
Stand up straight,
Blow your nose,
Clean your plate,
Hang your coat up,
Close the door,
Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’,
Be in by four…
And generally behave as they think they did
when they were our age !
Less Able
He could not describe the beauty that surrounded him:
The soft green dale and craggy hills.
He could not spell the names
Of those mysterious places which he knew so well.
But he could snare a rabbit, ride a horse,
Repair a fence and dig a dike,
Drive a tractor, plough a field,
Milk a cow and lamb a ewe,
Name a bird with a faded feather,
Smell the seasons and predict the weather,
That less able child could.
Clear English
Mr Smart our English teacher
Stood at the board one day.
He turned and said: ‘Put pencils down,
And kindly look this way.
Before you leave the school next week
And in the world a job you seek,
Remember that at interview
Be clear in what you say.
I’ve put some notes upon the board
But firstly want to say a word.
Now, you will not achieve success
If hair and clothes are in a mess.
And if you wear a grubby shirt
And your old shoes are caked in dirt,
The outcome of the interview
I am sure you all can guess.
Well, this applies to English too.
They’ll think you haven’t got a clue
If over words you stop and stumble,
Whisper, wince and mouth and mumble,
Become confused and start to stutter,
Stare at the floor and merely mutter,
They certainly won’t pick you.
So – always choose your words with care
Speak clearly or you’ll rue it,
Now everyone look at the blackboard please
And then I will go through it.’
Last in the Queue
When they gave out the instruments at school,
I was the last in the queue.
There were trumpets and trombones,
French horns and flutes,
Violins and violas,
Clarinets and cornets,
Guitars and saxophones,
Euphoniums and bassoons,
Tubas and cellos,
Drums and piccolos and oboes.
There was only the double bass left for me,
And the trouble is, I’m four foot three!
A Proper Poet
Today we have a real-live poet in school –
This gentleman who’s standing next to me.
I must say when I met him in the entrance,
He was not as I imagined he would be.
I’d always thought that poets were tall and wan,
With eyes as dark and deep as any sea,
So when I saw this jolly little man,
He didn’t seem a proper poet to me.
The poets I’ve seen in pictures dress in black
With velvet britches buttoned at the knee,
So when I saw the T-shirt and the jeans,
He didn’t look a proper poet to me.
I’ve read that famous poets are often ill,
And die consumptive deaths on a settee.
Well, I’d never seen a healthier-looking man,
He just didn’t look a proper poet to me.
My favourite poems are by Tennyson and Keats.
This modern stuff is not my cup of tea,
So when I heard our poet was keen on rap
He didn’t sound a proper poet to me.
Well, I’m certain that we’ll all enjoy his poems
And listen – after all we’ve paid his fee –
I hope that they’re in verses and they rhyme,
Uncle Eric
Like some great stooping monster,
He emerges from the mine.
His red eyes ringed with coal dust
And his black hair thick with grime.
He pauses by the pit head,
As the others walk on by,
And wipes the sweat from his face of jet,
And smiles into the sky.
School Visitor
Good morning, Mr Manning,
Do please take a chair.
A cup of tea is on its way,
Are you comfortable there?
I must say that your letter
Caught me unprepared.
The children are so nervous,
And the staff – quite frankly – scared.
Now I think you’ll find the pupils here
Really try their best.
The reading’s good, the writing’s neat,
Feel free to give a test.
I know this is a little school
But we do strive for perfection.
I must say that we’ve never had
A thorough school inspection…
Oh, you’re not the school inspector,
And Manning’s not your name.
You came about the toilets,
And the caretaker’s blocked drain.
Sister Says
When Richard clambered up the tree
And fell to earth and grazed his knee,
Sprained his ankle, scraped his shin,
Cracked his elbow, cut his chin,
His sister said, as she stood by:
‘I didn’t know that boys could fly!’
One winter’s day, when on his sledge,
Matthew hit a hawthorn hedge,
Scratched his face, bruised his hip,
Thumped his nose and split his lip.
His sister said: ‘I didn’t know
That boys liked rolling in the snow!’
When Dominic, on his roller skates,
Collided with the garden gates,
Blacked his eye, banged his head,
Stubbed
his toe and broke a leg,
His sister was heard to announce:
‘I didn’t know that boys could bounce!’
The Teacher
The teacher (it is sad but true)
Likes telling children what to do.
At college he is taught to shout,
And learns to order kids about.
With nerves of steel and fists of iron
He strides the classroom like a lion,
Then freezes with an icy stare,
And throws his hands up in the air,
And shakes his head in deep despair.
The teacher (it is fair to say)
Likes giving orders every day.
She can’t speak quietly at all,
But has to shriek and scream and bawl,
Bellow, bark and screech and huff,
Holler, wail and pant and puff,
Lament, complain and sigh and drone,
Yell and yelp and roar and moan,
Grimace, grunt and growl and groan.
The teacher (yes, I hear you sigh)
Does not use words like you and I.
In training for his tough profession
He learns each teacher-like expression:
‘Stop fiddling, boy, and pay attention
Or you will join me in detention!’
‘I really don’t know why I bother,
In one ear and out the other…’
‘I’m waiting, Class…’ ‘My, my, you’re slow,…’
‘I’m not here for my health, you know!’
‘Now settle down and look this way,’
And ‘You, girl, put that thing away!’
‘Take out your books…’ ‘What did I just say?’
As soon as teachers enter college
They cram their minds with all this knowledge.
Then they emerge completely changed.
It’s very odd, it’s very strange,
And that is why (it’s sad but true),
That teachers aren’t like me and you.
Little Philosopher
‘Your writing’s so untidy,’
Matthew heard his teacher moan
‘I know, Miss,’ said the pupil,
‘This pen has a life of its own!’