University Challenge
Students before Happy Hours were invented
Whiff of vomit about your street this morning? Increased police presence in your town at the weekend? Nagging feeling that one of your children might have grown up and left home?
Yes, it’s Freshers Week all over the country.
One set of students hits home again after graduation, to whine about not knowing what they are going to do with their lives and sponge off their Mum and Dad even though their old room has since been turned into a lilac Laura Ashley guest room (Hi Mum!). And another new set leaves home and discovers the joys of binge drinking, waking up with a complete stranger stuck to them and the occasional bit of learning.
Yesterday, I had the great honour of checking out the new accommodation of an 18 year old chum of the Flying Martinis heading off to University yesterday. And of course, I was reminded of my first student house in Glasgow.
In our student house we had a Senior Resident. This was a student chosen by the Housing Association to effectively snitch on the other residents and stop them from having a good time. Think Orwell’s Thought Crime Division, and you’ll get the idea. Our Senior Resident was called Dave. He was, as befitted the job description for such a post, a wanker of the highest magnitude.
Dave was studying Theology in training to become a minister, but seemed to be more of the Hell and Damnation type than the Love Thy Neighbour kind of bloke. In fact, I think Dave had his own set of commandments.
The Dave Commandments
1. Thou shalt not speak to me unless you are a fine, tight assed, Asian, male, student.
2. Thou shalt not get your possessions back from confiscation because you left a dirty dish in the sink.
3. Thou shalt not come to me with any complaints, suggestions or problems.
4. Thou shalt not expect any degree of courtesy from me.
5. Thou shalt not make any noise after 9pm unless you are one of the fine, tight assed, Asian, male, students knocking on my door in their underwear or a loosely tied dressing gown.
6. Thou shalt not be under the impression that my role is anything other than surveillance and reporting back to the Housing Association.
7. Thou shalt not insinuate that I am un-Christian, just because I hate each and every one of you.
8. Thou shalt not expect to get back into halls next year, as the dossier I have on you is about phone-book thickness.
9. Thou shalt not sneak friends from home into your bedroom as I will wait until you are all asleep and throw them out into the snowy January street with nowhere else to go.
10. Thou shalt not ridicule the passive aggressive notes left by me in the kitchen by writing “Dave is a Cock” on them.
Aaah, bless, Dave LOVED us. I wonder if he ever did move to Vietnam.
Still, no Senior Residents in the hall I was in yesterday. Just gangs of nice friendly people handing out kits with laminated cards with instructions on how to live life away from Mum, free music downloads and a complimentary Pot Noodle. There were even Fresher Teams whose sole responsibility was to force people out of their rooms and into the pub. Nothing like 15 Vodka and Red Bulls and a trip to Casualty to break that ice!
And on quick inspection of our chum’s living quarters, the mattresses are not made out of woven pubic hair anymore. So that’s nice!
Don’t ever miss a Misssive, subscribe!
An Atypical Post
One of the few photos I have of me in teaching mode (I’m on the extreme right)
I don’t tend to use the Misssives as a diary, nor do I use them as a therapist’s couch. I promise funny stories.
Except that this week I haven’t got any…I’m just sad. So forgive me for this momentary change to the previously advertised programme.
You see, on Monday I went in to the college where I used to work for a little visit.
“How are you liking your new job?” I was asked a million times.
“Meh” I answered, not able to summon up much more than that.
“Good money, though, I thought?” several would say.
“S’pose” I mumbled.
Truth is I miss being what I was, a teacher. It’s a horrible pain in the arse sometimes and there’s a lot of non-teaching bollocks associated with it, but God I miss my team, I miss my students, I miss the laughter. I used to love my job. I was enticed away from it by a proverbial “offer I couldn’t refuse” and a return to industry.
I’m always like this after I move jobs, I go through an intense and usually year long mourning process. But, I’m six months into this one and it’s not waining any.
As I left the college building I heard a banging on a window. I looked up and there was one of my former students waving at me like a maniac.
Call me a snivelling cornball, but I have tears in my eyes just writing that.
I need to get over this. Never look back.
Sniff!
One very sad thing about my job is that every year you have to say goodbye to graduating students. I always find it hard. I miss them when I come back after the break in September. it takes a while to get over it, it really does.
Almost as sad is that fact that on the last week of term they are all a horrible pain in the arse. Handing portfolios in late, complete with “dog ate my homework excuses” and then demanding to know instantly if they have passed. You can’t enjoy the last few days of their company before you see them off as it’s just all too frantic.
It’s been a hell of week. I’ve been storming up and down corridors bad mouthing the lot of them. I’ve been growling at them as they flannel me, or knock at my office door and hassle me when I’ve a mouthful of sandwich and haven’t had a break all day.
“Why haven’t they just worked hard all year instead of leaving it all to the last minute” I rage, hypocritically forgetting what I was like as a student.
But then the buggers go and surprise me with a large bouquet of flowers and bottle of something lovely.
Now I have to love them again.
So there they are. The Class of 2007 (and a couple of their educators)
Stop Press: Misssives regulars Joseph and Cat are requiring some support over at blogging silliness, Big Blogger. Get over there and decide which of the two you wish to vote for (obviously you can choose to vote for the others, but I’m sure you’ll show a bit of solidarity and take my advice)
