Moving on again

I finished module 2 of my course at college last week. It wasn’t a pleasant last day and I came away feeling angry, frustrated and sad. Angry because I felt let down by the course tutor, frustrated because I had passed the module but knew we hadn’t covered everything we – technically - should have, and sad because I wouldn’t be seeing most of the girls in the class again. I’ve registered for the next two modules back at Rowan – where I completed the first part of the course – as I know, from past experience, that the style of tutoring will be much more to my liking.

If only it could’ve been that easy to chop and change teachers when I was at school! I had a particularly horrible French teacher, called Mr Horn, who completely put me off studying French further. I only ever got the belt once in my school life, and it was Mr bloody Horn that administered it, when I was 13 years old. I’d been swinging on my seat and he’d told me to stop. I forgot. I did it again later in the lesson and he completely blew his top. He had a sharp chin and these weird pointy ears with really gross grey hairs sprouting out of them (in fact, I’m sure that Mr Burns from The Simpsons was modelled on our Mr Horn!). He was a complete nut job.

I’ll never forget how frightened I felt as he bounded up to me, with a manic look on his bright red pointy face, and bawled at me to get out of the class. I couldn’t get off my chair quick enough and immediately did as I was told. This is a man, after all, who’d been disciplined for putting sellotape over a pupil's mouth some years before (or so the rumours went anyway..!). I stood, holding back the tears, out in the corridor. I knew I was going to get the belt – and I was bloody scared!

Within a couple of minutes the door opened and out came ... Alex!

“Are you OK?”, he said.

“No, I’m shitting myself! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I told him he couldn’t speak to you like that and he told me to get out.”

“Are you off your head?!! He’ll kill you!”

A few minutes later Mr Horn appeared. He shouted first at Alex;

“PUT UP YOUR HANDS!” Alex, being Alex, raised both his hands above his head and shouted;

 “DON’T SHOOT!”

My hero then got belted – hard. I can’t remember how many times and I can’t remember what he did next but I do remember – very clearly – that I then got one of the belt. It was friggin sore and I had to bite my lip hard to hold back the tears (there was no way I was giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cry).

Dad went marching down to the school the next day to complain – as I’m sure many pupils’ parents had done over the years – but Mr Horn was still teaching at that school for a long, long time to come. Shocking really.

Yup, if only it was as easy at school to change class as it’s been for me with my course. You never know, I might even have ended up with a good qualification in French instead of being completely put off! Ça ne fait rien - c’est la vie!

So, I felt sad to be leaving my friends at college, but delighted to have reached the half way point in the course. I’m now looking forward to the next module and, again, meeting a whole new bunch of folk....And I’m sincerely hoping for a tutor that does it for me – or I might just have to set Alex upon him.....!