The other day, I was supervising a bunch of Year 9 boys kicking a soccer ball around outside. A few of them found it hilarious (as you do) to keep kicking the ball against the brick wall of one of the school buildings. Eventually, I went over to speak to one of the main culprits and said, "Dom, I don't see these people that you're kicking the ball to." To which Dom replied: "Yeah, they're my friends: Frank, Bobby and Jimmy." I mentioned that, if he wanted to keep kicking the ball to them, he could perhaps go and introduce his friends to his co-ordinator.
When, a few minutes later, Dom again kicked the ball into the wall, I went over to speak to him once more, this time with a more serious tone of voice: "Come on, Dom, I've asked you not to." And Dom's reply: "But sir, it's not my fault that Bobby's shit."
2 comments:
i can't believe he's in year 9 already... i was his form teacher on his first day of high school, and his english teacher for year 7 and most of year 8...
i didn't think the 'feeling old' part of teaching would kick in quite so soon...
Ah yes, they're all grown up now. Or not, as the case often is!
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