yodge (yodge) wrote,

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I was looking through this pile of junk that Mother had sent over from Bangkok, and it was like a handful of old Patana Updates (official Parent-Teacher magazine thingy), and school newsletters, and report cards, and stuff like that. So much fun!! There was even a letter from Mrs Barker when I was in Year 4 (third grade), asking mothers if they wanted to be the new Class Mother next year. (We had class mothers!! I'd completely forgotten about that.)

Ooh ooh, and there was the STAFF GALLERY. Aaah!!! All the teachers! The faces I'd forgotten back to haunt me!!! Rolf!!! Holloway!!!! Gower!!!! MADINE!!!

Mr Madine was my Y6 (American "fifth grade") teacher, and he was Irish. I remember when he brought his baby son Declan into class one day (I don't know why, coulda been Show & Tell for all I know) and it was recess and we were sitting on the class reading carpet in a circle and passing him around like a parcel... He was really really cute, so everybody wanted to hold him, and he was a strong little kid, so there was no fear of breaking him, so round he went. Then Teuila picked him up and he barfed all over the carpet.

Mr Rolf was my scary Y10 (ninth) math teacher, who had memorized the sine/cosine/tangent of nearly all the numbers available to humankind. And he would look at you as if you were unbelievably stupid if you didn't know the cosine of 49.37 off the top of your head. And he would wail and bash his head on the walls if you got stuff wrong, and write his own questions because the textbooks just weren't good enough, and work out all the Cambridge GCSE exam answers on his own because he didn't trust the marking guide. And we kids would sit around and talk about what an odd little child he must've been in primary school.

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