OK Tray. Got my coffee and time to kill, so here goes.
I finally qualified with my B.Ec. from Monash University and achieved then my Teaching Diploma so was all ready to hit the classrooms. I was not 21 but 28 possibly? This was because I had been employed for ten years prior to hitting the university, both as a secretary and as a student, thus did not consider myself quite the same as my fellow students because of this prolonged adult office work experience. But I digress... here is the story.
I needed to do some practical teaching and so was given an all-boys technical school, and told to observe how it all is done, and told to meet Mr Y who was teaching an English class to Year 7 students. There was a table, Mr Y and Ms Picastoc up the front, and sprawled across the carpeted floor was the class. No seating or tables in the room. A box of books. Students were told to get themselves a book. One by one, students lethargically stood up, rummaged through the books, took one, walked across the legs of their classmates and flopped back on to the floor.
This was the entire "lesson". No monitoring of the book a child took or questioning about its contents, no interaction with a child at all, and why? Well, Mr Y was too busy telling me what his teaching philosophy was and how he was studying for a Masters/Ph.D (forget which) based on an educator from America. The theory was, kids need to be given a lengthy run around the school oval first thing in the morning. Exercise is vital. And tough love.
By the end of the "lesson", I was not a happy chappy (even though I am a girl). So, when he asked me how I felt about the "lesson", I chose honesty. What lesson, I asked. Anyway, the upshot of all that was I was asked to visit the Principal, later the in day. He said in a stammering manner, I am sorry but Mr Y has reported to me and wants you to be at this school no longer. I recall him telling me that he was a bit conflicted about Mr Y's teaching style and not sure whether he is very brilliant or whether he was a "charlatan". Not sure why, but that word charlatan has always stayed with me. As I wrote, I was proud of getting fired for what I did. Told the truth, that was all.
I couldn't see why kids who were laying on the floor, kicking the legs of their nearby friends, utterly bored stupid, wandering around throwing books back into the reading box, grabbing another and then returning to flick through the pages, evidently pleased when the bell rang for them to get up, throw their books back into box and chatter to each other. Such relief for this poor class.
I wondered then why I ever wanted to teach at all. The last job I left had been as Secretary to the Dean of Science at Monash University. He was the best boss I had ever worked for. A bit eccentric, very modest, hard working, and I guarded the entrance to his office space, particularly when he was writing mathematical squiggles on his white board in preparation for maybe a lecture, his research of whatever. I was the youngest Secretary of a Dean at the university at the time, and was very honoured for being given that job for several reasons, but that is another story and the share market is opening soon and my coffee going cold. I am pleased I am a touch typist which is why I am able to write long stories in short time....lol
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