What is in a name anyway? I was always brought up respecting my full title. I was ALWAYS ‘Michael’. I was never Mike, nor Mick and certainly not Micky. My mother has this instilled into my very being from a young age. I can recall in primary school a group of my friends called me by ‘the name that shall not be named’.. Micky. My Mummy took one look at those boys and bellowed at the top of her lungs;
“He was Christened Michael!”.
That’s the thing about a name, It can be so precious to some and not to another. By that I mean in way of a nickname. I was quite lucky in that I never received a vile nickname at school, well not to my face and that is really all that mattered to be honest. One of my teachers in school was not so lucky……
It was the annual tradition of school Olympics whereby the pantheon of Gowns and Motor boards descend upon the mere mortals to judge young althletisicsm. Or as it is most commonly known to mere mortals. Sports day. It was a day I dreaded every year, the only heats I would pass was the triple jump. Once that was done I would spend the rest of the day sat around. Lucky for me that particular day was incredibly sunny, so for a change it was a pleasure to sit outside. We would be required to watch the other boys perform amazing feats like throwing a metal ball in the air and see how far it would land. A bit precarious to teach a young lad how to throw a metal ball with the proper technique but who am I to argue with the national curriculum. It was the one day of the year that all academic activities were suspended to sit around (for the majority) and marvel at our classmates throwing spears, metal balls, themselves, into large sand pits. Back then I failed to see the merit in this, I still do truth be told. If our school had an amazing track record (I’m sure their is a pun in there somewhere) for training Olympians, however this was not the case. Also we had a 4 hours a week of court assigned sport activity so it wasn’t like this annual affair was of much benefit surely? Wait their was that dusty cabinet that needed filling with store bought trophies I assume….
As with many sporting activities a lot of the boys who were not the ‘chosen few’, blessed with genetic dispositions of athletics, would find themselves getting restless and bored….. very quickly. We did many childish activities like dares and such. One such dare was to shout out a teachers nickname, OK so it started with teachers first names as that seemed a rather bold place to start. It then quickly escalated to their First Year assigned monikers. Every teacher had one. They were rarely imaginative and even rarer could their origins be traced. I believe a right of passage in many schools was to pass on these monikers onto the next generation as a last rite. Once such teacher was named ‘Jock’. Many theories arose about such origins of this curious nickname. My favourite was that he taught ‘Jock-Raphy’ (see how clever that is), another was because he was a ‘jockstrap’. A curious thing to be really and at the time I had absolutely no idea what one was, after all I wasn’t the sportiest so why would I?
The dare was set… Everyone shout Jock. That will be funny wont it? Their is no way this could possibly backfire is their?
Side note- All my life I have been blessed with a superb gift. The gift of a voice that even in a whisper can be heard by the pantheon of gods. All of them! A voice that can be heard around the world in a single breath, I’m very lucky. It has never caused a single issue of detriment. Like Hell it hasn’t…
The stage was set, the dare in place. We all inhaled in a single breath, opened our lungs and screamed….. JOCK!
The acoustics were amazing. So amazing that every member of the gown and motor board brigade turned round instantly. It was like a display of flamingos all turning head in unison. Holy shit! Why did we not expect this to happen, why did we not think anyone would hear us in this open area….. Jock started to parade this way with another teacher, ‘Dinger’ as he was called Mr Bell (clever again right?). He gave us all a steely glaze, and bellowed his own dare…. OFFICE NOW!
To be continued….
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 