Jock!!!! That one word sealed our fates. We knew it was coming. Michaels dulcet tones set an echo of which had never been heard before. I must of been channelling my inner Julie Andrews and thought I was dancing around the French Alps (apologies if that reference is incorrect, I find the sound of music dreadfully dull). We were marched outside the principals office and made wait until the annual trophy day extravaganza was over. We were such an inconvenience. We all had time to come up with our ‘story’. Safety in numbers, we all pretend we never said anything. Dreadfully naïve at the time however it seemed like a completely reasonable plan. Unfortunately we had one chink in the armour. A little boy called Aaron. This isn’t even a pseudonym, he actually was called Aaron. He was like a little albino rat with a piercing nose for trouble. He pipes up;
“I’m telling the truth that it was Michael, I’m not getting into trouble for this!”.
Granted I was the loudest however I was not on my own shouting the name, I unfortunately was blessed with the lungs of an Alto Tenor. Hardly my own fault? My fate was sealed. I was the captain of this ship, well appointed by my peers captain, and I was definitely going down with it. If only I had Celine Dion in the background to at least make it a little bit more glamorous. Alas I didn’t. So we were all lined up in the principals rather spacious suite. He walked up and down us shaking his head like a disappointed brigadier officer. His troops had let him down. He then proceeded to give a longwinded speech about honesty and how it would come out eventually. He then asked the question; “who shouted that name?”.
“It was me Sir”.
I can still see the look of confusion in his face. “who are you covering for? I will find out!”. I was never an angel or model student however I wasn’t smoking at the bike shelter (not yet) and certainly was not harassing teachers. I was rather green at this stage. I reiterated my pervious confession with a lump in my throat, “Yes Sir it was me I wasn’t covering for anyone”. He excused the other boys and we had a one on one conversation. He asked me why I called the teacher Jock. I gave him a puzzled look and stated that he has always been jock as long as I can remember. He didn’t look convinced. I then started to say it was because he taught ‘Jock’raphy, that ever so clever portmanteau of Jock and Geography. I however at this age didn’t know a portmanteau from a portcullis. The next phrase stuck with me for years. He bellowed in shear frustration,
“You are either incredibly stupid or incredibly naïve, I cant decide which”. I hope it was the latter.
I was excused and sent home it was 3.20pm. He said he would be calling my mother this evening. My heart sank. I had never been in trouble before and I was really scared of disappointing mummy. That’s the thing about parents. We would rather they were angry, as soon as they say they are “disappointed”, it feels like a knife straight to the gut! No one wants to disappoint their mummy’s. As I got in the car I started to tell her the full story. I wanted her to hear it first from me, and what my perspective was. Also I wanted to cushion the blow so she wasn’t shocked on the phone. At first she seemed angry then she kind of looked at me and said “so you shouted his nickname…. am I missing the reason why this has turned into a huge drama?”.
She received the phone call. Apologised to the headmaster on my behalf who was befuddled as to my intentions. He again asked my mother where the jock nickname came from to which she said “well his brother used the same nickname so you might need to research your origins somewhere else”. Mummy wasn’t always the most confident however when the lioness mode took over she could go toe to toe with anyone. She told me I had to apologise in writing to the teacher and due to my clean ‘record’, that’s as far as it would go. I was rather relieved. It was the end of the school year, summer was nearly here and I thought the whole nasty business was behind me.
I thought wrong.
2 months later………………..
The first day of school is always rather erratic, We receive our new schedules. Potentially meet new teachers and settle into the new year. I checked my new timetable to discover I had a new Geography teacher this year. Fate had conspired against me and it was none other than the infamous jock. Of course my little heart sank. Not of shame but of awkwardness. This was not going to be pleasurable. I walked into his classroom sheepish and sweating, sat down towards the back as I thought it would shield me from the potential awkwardness. No such luck.
“McCarney……. you will sit in the front!”. Great. The front was the exiled land of all the geeks. (sorry geeks I myself now self prescribe to my geekish tendencies and cast no judgment but in school social hierarchy the front of the class was social suicide). Also it was straight in front of jocks desk so he could “keep an eye on me”. Which he announced proudly to the whole class. Ok was I under the wrong impression? Before the summer had I slaughtered a lamb on his doorstep? Had I Missold him PPI? Lets be realistic. I shouted a nickname. Capital crime indeed. What I did was wrong however calling out a teenager in front of class is slightly odd behaviour.
Three weeks came and went and He called me after class. Great what was my offence now. Probably blinking too hard. He looked at me dead in the eye and said, “I have still not got that letter of apology from you”. He was correct and with the summer months It had escaped my notice. OK I would write him an apology letter. This would be no standard apology letter. I sat down with mummy who knew how he was treating me and we concocted the most sarcastic and intelligently wrote apology letter. It included phrases like “prepubescent pranks” and “teenage angst”, all very high brow for a 14 year old. The tone however was key. When reading it out loud at no point do I actually apologise for my act. I used the expression “I’m sorry this has had a deep and meaningful impact on your ability to teach me”. It was my favourite line and mummy roared. To sum up he was making my life a living hell in the classroom and this was my little form of payback. I shouldn’t of had to point out to an adult in the teaching profession that he was acting very immature. I will let you all decide where the fault lies on this one. Yes I shouldn’t of shouted the nickname. However the reaction was unfitting to the crime. It was like sending someone to prison for the rest of their life for spraying graffiti.
I handed in the letter and nothing was mentioned of it again. I was relieved that maybe we could move on from this and focus on the thing that seemed to be escaping him, my education. The letter sat on top of his desk for weeks. It was like a badge of honour for him. Sat their open for all to see. It stayed their like a stand off for weeks. I refused to acknowledge this. He wanted a reaction. He wouldn’t get it. One day the boy sitting next to me remarked, “Your letter is still there after 4 weeks. Does that annoy you”. In a moment of defiance I looked up at Jock who overheard the whole conversation and said “Not really, A little bit pathetic to be honest but it doesn’t bother me.”.
The next day the note was gone.
A few weeks later we were lined up outside his classroom as usual. I always kept dead silent, I would not give the slightest reason for my behaviour to be called into question. It had became a battle of wills. A battle I would not loose. My classmates were getting a little giddy and excited and the next thing someone screamed “Jock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”. The bass tone could be heard round the corridor, a bass tone that did in no way match my alto. Myself and four other boys were called into a room. They were giggling and laughing. My eyes went dead pan. I knew what was coming. He questioned the other boys who said it was me and were excused. “You couldn’t help yourself could you. You did it again.”. I protested my genuine innocence. It was not satisfactory. He raised his voice to me and said, “Right we shall see what the Principal says”. The red mist descended and their was no going back.
“Perfect, lets go to the principals office and we can explain how you have accused a boy with no evidence based on hearsay. Furthermore we can have a chat about how you are interrogating an underage boy without the accompaniment of his parent. We shall see who is the wrong. Also Id like to comment how inappropriate your behaviour this whole year has been and would like to lodge a formal complaint into your conduct as a teaching professional”.
“Oooo well maybe I got the wrong end of the stick”.
Yes indeed you did, if that’s everything I have 5th period. I stormed out of his classroom shaking in anger and tearing up due to the adrenaline. I had never spoke to a teacher or even an adult with so much sass in my life. I felt vindicated. I felt justified. I felt I wanted to go home and tell mummy.
I never received another complaint from jock and myself and mummy would often have conversations about why is problem seemed so blown out of proportion. We would often discuss the elephant In the room.
Jock was a homosexual, albeit a closeted one. He presumed me shouting Jock was a form of gay slur. Ironic really. I only really discovered this with having conversations with Billy about the fact afterwards. Myself and mummy would have a giggle about it many years after. However their is also a glaringly obvious fact. This man was in charge of shaping young minds. He was allowed to express a personal vendetta on a child. We laugh about it now however that is incredibly serious and would we want our children exposed to this bitter old queen. Id love to say he was the only one on the faculty who was inappropriate. He wasn’t.
Mummy would have a run in or two with another gentleman. The lioness came into full force with this one. That however is another days tale.
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 