To speak too much, to ramble on and on
To run one’s mouth from dawn to dawn
Such constant babble may get on your nerves
For words for words’ sake no good can serve
I find myself when at school
Trying to quiet classes without being cruel
“Please arrest the superfluous verbosity” I will say
But they will chatter anyway
I again to them will turn
“Stop, curtail the loquaciousness, so we can learn.”
Maybe it’s best to let them speak
Surely, they’ll be quiet when they sleep
Padre
Another term has come to an end
Giving teachers and students a time to mend
A moment to stop and vent and breathe
Allowing the stress of the grind to relax – relieve
So hopefully after the festive time
We will be all back to our prime
And face another term of learning
For soon for Easter we will be yearning
Padre
The class was chaotic – out of control
If the north stood for calmness
This was the opposite pole
And why did things go so far amok?
Sugary drinks had been consumed
Such was my luck
Padre
Today, I set a reporting task to one of my classes. I explained exactly how I wanted them to lay it out, then I repeated the instructions to make sure they were clear. I then asked if there were any questions on the assignment. No one responded, so I told them to get on with it. About five minutes later a hand went up and the student asked if she could do it – well, exactly as I had described how to do it. There are times when I serious wonder if some of my students aren’t just memes waiting to happen.
Padre
One of the ongoing trials of being an educator is dealing with students that have an overblown sense of their own comedic prowess. The proverbial class clowns often call out with inappropriate comments which fail to achieve the heights of humour which they envisioned. This usually leads to their outbursts being reprimanded and a scramble to bring the lesson back on course.
I was recently teaching a lesson on religious responses to social injustice, and to prejudice and discrimination in particular. As we were working on the vocabulary that is necessary for such a study, I asked for the definition of homophobia, to which one student called out “Homerphobia is the fear of the Simpson’s.” The response caught me off-guard, and while still needing to be challenged, I could help but to tip my hat to the wit.
Padre
Exercise books seem to never end
No matter how long on them I spend
The arguments and phrases contained within
Repeated student after student – until my head does spin
I’m out of green ink in my pen
So I’ll go find another and get started again
Padre
Twenty minutes and then a break
Otherwise, you will fail to concentrate
A study longer will become boring
And soon you will start your snoring
Make it a cycle to maximise retention
Just digest it in bits then use focused reflection
Padre
Pardon me, I’ll have to insist
That you sit down, and stop acting like this
It is very unbecoming
The way you behave
The consequences might
For you be grave
Lower your voice,
Others are trying to work
Just because you are the teacher
Doesn’t mean you can be a jerk
Padre
Evie was called forward in the assembly and the principal announced that she was the winner of the essay contest. Many of her peers looked on jealously as she was handed the certificate and the £30 voucher.
“Evie,” Mrs. Baxter said. “Your essay was unique, and was a breath of fresh air for all of us judges. Many of your competitors seemed to follow the same line of argument, and there was a surprising similarity even in much of their wording. How did you manage to write something so original?”
“Well, I um, I made it a point to not use Wikipedia at all, and in fact, once I started following that rule, I decided to avoid using the internet at all.”
“But, how could you possibly have managed gathering all of that clever information without the web?” the principal asked in astonishment.
“Well, after school one day, I missed the bus. So I had to wait for my mum. She said to meet her by the side exit, so I went down a hall that doesn’t get used much and I found a really weird room that no one seemed to know about. It was all full of books and stuff, so I had a peek. Before I knew it my mum was ringing me, asking why I hadn’t come out yet. I told here I was reading an actual book. Soon the “Library” became my favourite place in the school, and no one ever bothered me there. I used the books to research my essay.”
“How novel,” Mrs. Baxter said. She then turned to the deputy head and whispered, “Did you know we still had a library?” Mr Turner just shrugged.
Padre
—————-
It is a lecture full of wind
As the professor repeats stuff long-tinned
The same address over the years he’s made
Rather than a new one – as he still gets paid
Research is what he sees as his trade
Producing new editions – twice a decade
So until he discovers something new
It’ll be that same old lecture that’s given to you
Padre
https://fivedotoh.com/2021/09/24/fowc-with-fandango-lecture/
Padre's Ramblings 