{"id":32,"date":"2010-02-01T09:16:00","date_gmt":"2010-02-01T09:16:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katebailward.com\/drivinglikeamaniac\/?p=32"},"modified":"2011-04-01T12:26:47","modified_gmt":"2011-04-01T10:26:47","slug":"oh-the-shame","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.katebailward.com\/drivinglikeamaniac\/2010\/02\/oh-the-shame\/","title":{"rendered":"Oh, the shame!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>(image by vk-red<\/a> on flickr)<\/span>
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\nFrom the ages of 11-14 I went to a girls’ boarding school near Bristol. As part of our slightly old-fashioned ladylike education, we received both needlework and cookery lessons. \u00a0To counteract the girliness, we were given geology lessons and had fire exits which (according to school lore) involved abseiling down the side of the building. \u00a0Doubtful, in truthful terms, but a great story with which to frighten the first years.<\/span>
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\nOur needlework teacher was a Scottish woman whose name I now forget. \u00a0All our teachers were officially Miss, Mrs or Mr So-and-So, but I do remember that she had an unusual first name, which we used as ammunition to mock her mercilessly behind her back. \u00a0(I dread to think what my students say about me. \u00a0It’s possibly best not to know.) \u00a0She was probably in her mid to late 40s, but to us she seemed ancient. \u00a0Yet another reason to be rude about her. \u00a0Cruel girls.<\/span>
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\nOne easter holiday, my family and I went across to France on the ferry. \u00a0This was all very exciting, and my brothers and I spent the usual time running about like lunatics on deck, peering over the rails, with our hair and clothes whipping in the wind. \u00a0After one such wild abandoned charge around the deck, I ran back inside to say hello to my parents – and ran straight into my needlework teacher. \u00a0I was HORRIFIED. \u00a0Not only did she have the audacity to be on the same ferry as me, but she added insult to injury by SPEAKING to me. \u00a0The nerve of the woman! \u00a0I, of course, did my best pre-teen shuffling and monosyllabic answering to her perfectly reasonable and friendly questions about where I was going and whether I was looking forward to my holiday, and escaped as soon as I judged it (barely) polite to do so. \u00a0How on earth would I explain to my friends that I’d had to talk to a teacher out of school time? \u00a0Dreadful!<\/span>
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\nFastforward 20 years. \u00a0I am now a teacher myself, with students aged from 5 to adult. \u00a0I’ve run into a few of my late-teen and adult students around the place, which has always been fun, as they are grown-up enough not to be bothered about the teacher-student social barrier, and we usually end up having a good chat. \u00a0However, I suppose it was only a matter of time before I ran into one of my less socially adept students. <\/span>
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\nIt’s Saturday night. \u00a0I walk into a pizzeria with my friend, who is visiting from England. \u00a0In my dreadful Italian, I ask for a table for 2. \u00a0Slightly to my right, I am vaguely aware of three boys eating pizza and laughing together over a story that one is telling. \u00a0I glance a little more closely and realise that the one in full flow is one of my students. \u00a0Not just any old student, though; one from my absolute bete-noir class. \u00a0The class that, every lesson, I have to physically restrain myself from killing. \u00a0The class that I roundly bollocked for talking over me (yet AGAIN) last me I saw them, and who retaliated by keeping their mouths shut, but all ostentatiously blowing their noses. \u00a0Yeah, THAT class. \u00a0 As I look over at the table, he also glances up. \u00a0The look of horror on his face at realising that he’s face to face with his teacher is an absolute classic. \u00a0I’m transported straight back to that day on the ferry, and despite remembering how appalled I was that I had to make conversation, I wave and cheerfully say, “Ciao!” \u00a0He has no idea where to put himself. \u00a0Should he respond and look like an idiot in front of his friends (who are not my students), or should he be rude and ignore me? \u00a0He settles for a watery grin, while saying nothing. For a brief moment, \u00a0I almost feel sorry for him. However, \u00a0I quickly decide that macabre amusement at his expense is far more entertaining. \u00a0 Karma will get me one day, I’m sure, but I’m enjoying tempting it while I can. \u00a0Hohoho.<\/span>
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Please vote<\/a> for me in the Blogging from the Boot Competition! \u00a0I’m a finalist in these categories: <\/span>
\nThat’s Amore<\/span>
\nEccomi<\/span>
\nMangia<\/span>
\nBuon Viaggio<\/span>
\nItalianissimo<\/span>
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