We often find ourselves discussing women characters on TV and in films. Often they are needy, prissy and dull. One character however was spiteful, resentful, lonely, sarcastic and in some episodes vulnerable or thoughtful. It seems peculiar but this cartoon character was far more real than many other women who grace our screens. The recent death of Marcia Wallace, who voiced Edna Krabappel, Bart Simpson's long suffering teacher, means one less acerbic woman on our screens. With this and the recent teacher's strike we thought now was a good time to talk about our favourite teachers.
1. I was really lucky at school - I had several good teachers. One who sticks in my mind was Mr Wilkinson, my maths teacher when I was 11. He was double-jointed and had stretchy skin and used to entertain us by pulling out the skin on the back of his hand and bending his elbow backwards. He'd also talk about growing up in South Africa, which seemed incredibly exotic to us in '90s rural Yorkshire. One time he stopped the lesson when it started snowing so we could all go and play in it - he told us he didn't see snow until he was quite old and didn't think anyone should miss it. He had a knack for making even the dullest parts of maths seem fascinating and everyone turned up to his lessons and did their homework, which was by no means usual. Squeamish Louise
2. I was a total swot at school and had far too many favourite teachers to be able to name just one. There was Ms Judson, who was the first person ever to call me on my shit and tell me that while I could coast and get As I'd be more satisfied to work and get A+s. There was Mr Heilman, who spotted how bored I was reading the core texts and who introduced me to a wide world of extracurricular reading, opening my eyes to a long list of authors I still love to this day. There was Mrs Bell, who inspired my love of poetry and challenged me to start writing my own. And then there was Brian Clack, the black-clad philosophy teacher I had when I was 17, who looked like *that* bare-chested picture of Jim Morrison, wore far too much leather, and was a) the subject of a million teenaged fantasies, and b) the man who inspired my eventual degree choice. I was so disappointed when I got to uni and discovered all my lecturers were deeply unappealing middle-aged men. F1 Kate
3. 3 of my schools were wonderful and 2 were awful. The shock of going from a brilliantly strict and well structured school to one where the teacher would hiss to us 9 year olds: "Quick! The headmaster's coming, pretend like you're working!" was a lot to handle and I lost my confidence. Hence my shockingly bad GCSE results. Like, seriously I don't know anyone with GCSE's as bad as mine. They're bad. It wasn't until I had been at my new school for a little while that I think one of my teachers realised I simply didn't know how to work to this new school's high standards, the 4 other new kids had been to private school and I was the only comprehensive school kid. I wasn't like something out of the Beano with nits or anything, I just sincerely thought handing in homework at all was enough. One teacher humiliatingly gave me primary school exercises to do because didn't know how to use apostropes. Barry my other English teacher was different. He changed the books we were supposed to be studying to one he knew I liked, he held extra classes for me, he once read my essay out to the class as a shining example and he will always be someone Squeamish Louise and I speak about extremely fondly. Squeamish Kate
4. I think talking about out worst teacher would be a more fitting tribute to Edna and boy do I have some tales about those - the French teacher who couldn't speak French (which she admitted while we were downing whiskey on a camping trip), the drama teacher who married one of her former pupils 6 weeks after he left (and claimed it had been a whirlwind romance, even though everyone had been gossiping about them for months), or the RE teacher who'd been thrown out of the priesthood and got sacked for being a creepy pervert. However, I'm supposed to talk about good teachers so it'll have to be Mr Steel. He told us to call him Paul, but nobody ever did cos he was a terrifying beast - I'll never forget the 15 minute rant he gave me after I had the indecency to pronounce lieutenant with a t rather than an f! However, he was the only teacher who ever got me to hand my homework in on time and actually apply myself in lessons. Who knew fear could be such a great motivator? Gareth
5. My favourite teacher was the first ever teacher I had. When I started school I instantly fell in love with Miss Smith. She was a young blonde lady and very kind. She broke my heart when she told me off or talking on the carpet - even though I was just telling someone to stop talking to me! She sent me to the corner and I cried, then ripped up a picture I'd drawn, out of sheer frustration. When it was time for assembly she tried to apologise and make me go with her but no, she had betrayed me! Obviously the next day I loved Miss Smith again and still do to this day. Squeamish Nicola
2. I was a total swot at school and had far too many favourite teachers to be able to name just one. There was Ms Judson, who was the first person ever to call me on my shit and tell me that while I could coast and get As I'd be more satisfied to work and get A+s. There was Mr Heilman, who spotted how bored I was reading the core texts and who introduced me to a wide world of extracurricular reading, opening my eyes to a long list of authors I still love to this day. There was Mrs Bell, who inspired my love of poetry and challenged me to start writing my own. And then there was Brian Clack, the black-clad philosophy teacher I had when I was 17, who looked like *that* bare-chested picture of Jim Morrison, wore far too much leather, and was a) the subject of a million teenaged fantasies, and b) the man who inspired my eventual degree choice. I was so disappointed when I got to uni and discovered all my lecturers were deeply unappealing middle-aged men. F1 Kate
3. 3 of my schools were wonderful and 2 were awful. The shock of going from a brilliantly strict and well structured school to one where the teacher would hiss to us 9 year olds: "Quick! The headmaster's coming, pretend like you're working!" was a lot to handle and I lost my confidence. Hence my shockingly bad GCSE results. Like, seriously I don't know anyone with GCSE's as bad as mine. They're bad. It wasn't until I had been at my new school for a little while that I think one of my teachers realised I simply didn't know how to work to this new school's high standards, the 4 other new kids had been to private school and I was the only comprehensive school kid. I wasn't like something out of the Beano with nits or anything, I just sincerely thought handing in homework at all was enough. One teacher humiliatingly gave me primary school exercises to do because didn't know how to use apostropes. Barry my other English teacher was different. He changed the books we were supposed to be studying to one he knew I liked, he held extra classes for me, he once read my essay out to the class as a shining example and he will always be someone Squeamish Louise and I speak about extremely fondly. Squeamish Kate
4. I think talking about out worst teacher would be a more fitting tribute to Edna and boy do I have some tales about those - the French teacher who couldn't speak French (which she admitted while we were downing whiskey on a camping trip), the drama teacher who married one of her former pupils 6 weeks after he left (and claimed it had been a whirlwind romance, even though everyone had been gossiping about them for months), or the RE teacher who'd been thrown out of the priesthood and got sacked for being a creepy pervert. However, I'm supposed to talk about good teachers so it'll have to be Mr Steel. He told us to call him Paul, but nobody ever did cos he was a terrifying beast - I'll never forget the 15 minute rant he gave me after I had the indecency to pronounce lieutenant with a t rather than an f! However, he was the only teacher who ever got me to hand my homework in on time and actually apply myself in lessons. Who knew fear could be such a great motivator? Gareth
5. My favourite teacher was the first ever teacher I had. When I started school I instantly fell in love with Miss Smith. She was a young blonde lady and very kind. She broke my heart when she told me off or talking on the carpet - even though I was just telling someone to stop talking to me! She sent me to the corner and I cried, then ripped up a picture I'd drawn, out of sheer frustration. When it was time for assembly she tried to apologise and make me go with her but no, she had betrayed me! Obviously the next day I loved Miss Smith again and still do to this day. Squeamish Nicola
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