Poison works
One of our teachers was referred to as “Feel the Bum”. The reason should be obvious enough. When a boy was called to the front to have his homework discussed an oh so friendly hand started as a pat on the shoulder but ended up a few feet further south and lingered there for as long as possible. This was in the days before we knew about abuse, at least before we knew what it was called, and before we knew that we needn't tolerate it. However revenge came our way, if only in a limited manner. One day the silly man left his mug of coffee on his desk and went into the store for a while. (Who else was in there?) In his absence a queue of willing boys formed at his desk taking turns at depositing big green gobs of phlegm into the drink. (Not me. I begin to retch at even the thought of green phlegm.) Someone stirred the additive well into the coffee and we all sat and watched it slither down Feel the Bum's throat. So satisfying. Coincidently, he died a year later.
Bully the bully
Last lesson on a Friday was always French and it was in the Library for some reason. We all harboured an intense dislike for the teacher. He was vicious, and cruel and enjoyed humiliating anyone who couldn't conjugate verbs to his liking. Our way of playing havoc with his sense of well-being was particularly cruel too. He was extremely obese, nick-named The Bounce. The chairs in the library all had arms and were fairly narrow - alright for 14 year old boys, but not for overly robust French teachers. Every Friday the usual teacher's chair without arms mysteriously disappeared, and when the Bounce rolled up to his desk he found a narrow chair with arms on offer for him. There was no way he would ever be able to slide his generous backside into that chair, and if he did he would never get out of it, at least not if he wanted to retain any dignity. Fridays he stood to teach French, longing for the final bell, all those many, many extra pounds weighing down so heavily on his back and legs.
Defenestration
Is a great way to deal with a teacher, you don't like, and especially one who you know is no good at defending himself. The one I have in mind was known to us “Silky Drawers” because his very silky shorts were forever hanging out over his trousers decades before such a thing was fashionable. We just didn't like him. His hair hung around his face in rats tails and he taught maths. He could never get the class's attention long enough to teach, and he was just asking to be dealt with. So one day when we were in a remote classroom, far away from the principal's office, we persuaded him out of the window. It was so easy to do, we just mobbed him and kept pushing till he reached our chosen destination. He was so compliant, so terrified and bewildered that he just lifted his leg and got up on the windowsill, pleading in a very high and stuttering voice, “Now boys, let's all sit down again in our seats. That's enough now boys, I'll report this to the Principal. Let's just sit down and we'll forget it ever happened.” It was a ground floor window so his body didn't get hurt, just his dignity. Then we locked the window and he had to knock on the window of another teacher to get let back in.
Incarceration
Well only for a few hours. The trainee Gym Teacher was vile and vicious, especially to those who were not as athletic as they might be. He enjoyed humiliating people. At the end of class one Wednesday he made the biggest mistake of his career, and gave us the opportunity to triumph. The silly man went into the store at the back of the gym to do something with equipment, leaving us to climb ropes or complete some other pointless task. The idea came to all of us at the same time. We didn't even need to speak, plot or plan. Down the ropes we slid, and over to the store to pull down the shutter. He was there for some time.
Payback
When I became a teacher I thought I was fairly okay. I thought their kids liked me and they probably did but they were kids and just had to do something bad. I was teaching English to immigrant children in Italy. They came from everywhere. One day during class the door was flung open and a bucket of freezing cold water was thrown round me. I spluttered, everyone laughed, I couldn't see the funny side. I stormed back to my apartment which was in the school grounds, rehearsing the speech I was going to give to the principal. In dry clothes I arrived at the principal's office, and just as I was about to knock I thought to myself that what had been done to me was exactly the kind of thing I would have done given the chance. How could I complain after that?
And when you're done with the teachers
One of the most annoying pranks pulled on new boys at my school was the “tail”. A new boy would appear in the yard, and if he was especially annoying or obvious looking, or if he was nervous or shy, whatever his disposition, everyone else formed an orderly queue behind him and followed him like a tail as long as they could. There was no way he could shake off the tail and in a school of about 1000 boys that was some tail. So annoying, so stupid, so childish, but then we were annoying, stupid children..
