The kids aren't alright. Because we've hit them in the face with a dumbbell.

Teachers. We've all had them. Some of them good, some of them bad, quite a few utterly insane. On the side of the bad, there was Mr Denman, who used to move a girl in my class every single lesson for what seemed like no reason. This was later proved when he told them to move...on a day they were off school ill. Then you have Frau Brown/Jones/Franklin-Jones/Whoever it was she happened to be married too that year. Had a hatred of me for a reason that remains unknown. One fateful time she covered us for a P.E lesson, and within minutes had accused the majority of the room of being sexist. The reason? Not getting on with the highly important task of filling in a worksheet that would be thrown in the bin after the lesson. I had the last laugh though, she fell over a fan once and it was fucking hilarious. And I wrote she was a big slag on an exam table and got away with it. YEAH! STICK IT TO THE MAN! Finally Miss Gifford. Spent most of the lesson in her cupboard drinking Whiskey before coming up with a genius new lesson plan of drawing a shell. Seriously, a man employed to draw pictures of shells, whose hobbies include the drawing of pictures of shells has drawn less shells than me.
It wasn't all bad of course. Apart from Mrs Crawley, who regularly had 6 months at a time off for being mental, the English department were very good and encouraged me to get into journalism. Also Mrs Keeling's lessons encouraged me to get into some of the most legendary pencil fights ever seen. It was like the UFC of pencil fights, truly epic stuff. Sadly Miss Owen had to leave after mistaking her Facebook page for the pages of Zoo, but what a way to go. Teenage boys everywhere salute you, Miss Owen. Mrs Hutt and her plates upon plates of Kit Kats and Mrs Markham who once said that I must have cheated on an essay as what i'd written was too good complete the legendary department. Other honourable mentions go to Mr Bell, who took us down the pub during a GCSE revision lesson and Mr Stewart who not only got me a ticket to Middlesbrough away, but also sung the theme tune to Postman Pat, probably making him the coolest teacher in existance. A special mention has to go to Miss Groves, my form teacher and one of the most influtential people in my early life. R.I.P Sian, we miss you.
The cause of this teacher nostalgia was the news today that a teacher had been arrested in Mansfield for putting 3 pupils in hospital, one of them seriously injured. It appears that he used a dumbbell (pictured below) to beat them almost to death. Now I saw some teachers go pretty mad at school (Miss Peach's reaction to being hit by a paper airplane that had been set on fire probably number one) but not one of them decided to use a blunt object to beat the pupil around the head. Maybe they just didn't care enough.


Could this be Labour's last gasp attempt to deliver on their 'Education Education Education' promise? Forcing kids to improve their standards by punishing incorrect answers to "What is an oxbow lake?" with a swipe with a samurai sword would soon see kids leaving school with a list of qualifications longer than the list of Frau Brown's ex husbands. I'm joking of course, but the average Daily Mail reader would probably fully support the supplying of teachers with hand grenades, as long as it kept down house prices.
The question has to be asked as to why this teacher had his Rambo moment. Are the kids getting worse, or are teachers getting more mental? Considering some of the stuff that happened while I was at school (teacher being shot by a BB gun and featuring on the front page of the sun, kid being placed on the sex offenders list and some truly impressive pile ons/bundles that would make international rugby players wince) it has to be that teachers are getting crazier. As with everything in the modern world, this can be blamed on the credit crunch. Teachers know that they won't be sacked, but instead put on gardening leave with full pay. They can therefore take advantage of this, and get a second job while still being paid by the school they left after hitting a year 7 pupil with their car for not knowing the 8 times table.
So, when your child is sent home early from school with shrapnel wounds, don't blame them. Don't even blame the teacher who fired the RPG. Blame Gordon Brown and HBOS, because in todays climate, teachers can't afford NOT to be assaulting children. Mark my words, this is just the start.