The Gods of Small Boys

The trips I make back to my primary school to collect data for my thesis are always sources of great amusement. Being far removed from the entire experience, the lives of schoolchildren now strike me as being extremely artificial. The indignity of seeking permission to take a leak, greeting every adult you see and having to keep one's hand held up until being allowed to speak are but some of the small horrors I witnessed today.

I wonder how teachers can bring themselves to exercise such tyranny. I know I wouldn't be able to do it without feeling a great deal of strain. Maybe it's a social psychology thing...once you're in a social role, you become the role. If so, then teaching must be a very unhealthy profession.

On a lighter note, I had a little snigger when I saw this written on a class whiteboard:

"Homework due 14/1. Ask your parents and two friends what they think language means. Write it in your writing pads."

I see this as an English teacher's well-intentioned attempt at critical and innovative pedagogy. But I sincerely hope, for the boys' sakes, that their parents and friends are not postmodernists.