Report Tuesday

This recording was discovered in the remains of the hall after the police had cleared the riot. It appears to have used a voice-activated microphone, but only one side of the conversation was actually recorded.



"Well hello."
"Sit down, sit down."
"So you're Report Evening's Dad?"
"Oh, sorry, Report Evening's Uncle then, how do you do Mr. Evening?"
"Oh, you prefer to be called Drunk and Disorderly?"
"No worries, let's get started Drunk."
"I take it you've seen Reppy's Report Card?"
"No?"
"Let me check the address we've got on file"
"Hmmm, a bit different from what we've got."
"So you don't live in KeriKeri then?"
"That's OK, I'll get it updated."
"Now then about Reppy."
"She means well, and is normally good natured, but she talks far to much, and often doesn't pay attention"
"She hasn't achieved any of her major milestones this Term, and her attendance is way down, less than 25%."
"She really doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing."
"No." "I agree." "It's not good enough, and we're going to have to make some changes."
"First we need to see her attendance go way up."
"She often seems hungry and thisty, so perhaps you can ensure that she has access to snacks and tea/coffee/juice."
"Some people work better with some light background music, so perhaps we can try that."
"Oh." "I agree." "No Double Bass music, it's far to moody and depressing for Reppy."
"One area I'm worried about is the quality of work taking place."
"It's no good just covering things she already knows, we'll have to go into new areas, see things she doesn't know about, discuss things outside of her comfort zone."
"I'm glad you agree."
"Sorry, what was that again?."
"Do I know Reppy's cousin, Learning Conferences?"
"Yes I know LC, sometimes I think she's more trouble than she's worth, but we get good results, so I can't complain."
"I see."
"You prefer LC to Reppy?"
"Well we'll see what we can do, but I can make no promises."
"What do you mean typical teacher, never listens?"
"I'll have you know I'm the best teacher here, and I know considerably more about Education than you do."
"Don't call me an opinionated Irish bastard, you colonial oik, I'm Scottish"

Right Dress

Someone recently mentioned that they had seen a scruffily dressed bloke picking up Cheezo packets after a performance of the Nueva Lazio 40 piece school ensemble.
I objected to this gross calumny, he was just comfortably dressed (actually, the fist time I typed it, it came out as comfartably, which may be wrong spelling, but feels intrinsically more accurate).
Heating in Nuova Lazio is not normally a problem, with our balmy sub-tropical yet temperate climate in our secluded valley. Occasionally we get the odd wind or two coming up from the Antarctic, and this does tend to bring a bit of a nip in the air (no offense, Oh Sons of Nippon)

When this happens, we all tend to wear warmer clothes, disregarding our usual sartorial elegance.
We all have our personal idiosyncrasies of dress.
I know our leader of music prefers to come in in his tuxedo, to lend that touch of class.

I always wear my trusty Harris Tweed "Sports" jacket which has seen me through many a campaign against the fuzzy-wuzzies.
Our PE department are always tastefully attired in the best quality nylon shell/track suits.
(As an aside, an old joke in Scotland;
"How can you tell the bride at a Dundee wedding?"
"She's the one wearing the white shell suit")
Our Art department vary between off the shoulder glam, to warm and woolly, with a bit of Bohemian chic thrown in.
Jeans are completely forbidden at all times (unless you want to make a really good impression at Parent/Teacher Report Evenings .(which is tonight)
Our Technology teachers wear comfortable yet scruffy apparel. Mostly a mix of shorts, trainers and any other rags they can get hold of.(I speak only of the males of the species; the Lady teachers are always well turned out)
Most of us wear what we want. Some with ties, some without. As usual, most blokes wear roughly the same week after week, while our poor female colleagues splurge out on many different variations as females are wont to do.
Our senior leadership team (See, I'm up to date with the terminology, even if our esteemed leaders often forget.)are mostly smartly dressed.



Apart from Ringo.
I am sure he tries his best, always wears a tie, often a casual silk scarf draped elegantly over his stylish Armani suit, with his rakish silver ear-ring glinting in the sun, but it never really comes off.

Surrounding us is a sea of neatly uniformed students, all complying exactly to the regulation of the BOT. Leather shoes highly polished, ties neatly knotted, every one wearing their school blazer proudly, merit and Excellence badges gleaming in the sub-tropic sun.

I tell you, when I was in the Army, I though I knew what uniform was, but I couldn't believe what standards of uniform excellence the pupils here aspire to.

I can remember when I was teaching in Scotland, we had an almost qualified young lady student-teacher sent to us for her final experience. On her second week, we had a mufti day for some charity or other. Everyone, pupils and staff entered into the spirit of the thing and we all came in many varieties of dress.
This young lady, blond, voluptuous (and let's face it, a bit thick) came into school wearing a micro-mini skirt and a see-through white blouse, no bra, or undergarments we could see.
We almost had a riot in her form class, and as the word spread throughout the school, hordes of teaming testosterone-fuelled youth packed the corridors to get a glimpse.
We had never seen such excitement since the visiting chairperson of the council education committee had had an epileptic fit on the podium whilst addressing the senior school on the dangers of drink and sex at the senior parties due that month.(The seniors spread the rumour that she was having an LSD flashback from a student indiscretion)
or
When the stupid unfeeling bastard of a school chaplain had told our juniors (10-11 years old), with a PowerPoint® presentation and scientific and mathematical equations that Santa Claus could not possibly exist. On the last week before Christmas break. We had over 100 crying and sobbing distraught kids to calm down.
I tried to point out to him later in the staffroom while we having a cup of tea, that he could have used exactly the same scientific and mathematical tools to disprove the existence of God or Christ, but I could tell he wasn't listening. I made sure he wasn't listening or even paying attention about 15 minutes later when the phenolphthalein I had put in the sky-pilot's tea began to work. For those of you not of the scientific bent, phenolphthalein is used as an indicator in acid/base titration, where it gives a lovely pink colour at pH 8 - 12. It is completely colourless at slightly acidic pH. It is also an extremely powerful and fast acting laxative, and I hope the hypocritical myth-worshiper has the pleasure of a prolapsed rectum.
However, back to our student teacher. After we had, with some difficulty, cleared the corridors of panting and pawing adolescent males (and a few odd girls), we managed to get the young lady down to the Rector's office. When he could tear his eyes away from the sight of her( now rapidly heaving but splendid) bosoms, he explained about the need for decorum, a professional dress code, using common sense, the dangers of post-pubescent males, and would she please cover up (her rapidly stiffening) nipples. (No I made that last bit up, he didn't actually say it, he told me later that that was what he was thinking.) It seemed that the young lady was unaware of her effect on young males until this instance, and she hastened to make herself decent by the application of a hurriedly obtained lab coat from our Chemistry department.
The whole incident put clothes in a different light, and I know that we guys on the staff were looking forward to next years mufti days, to see what might happen.
Alas, we never knew.
Such was the effect on the young lady of poor dress-sense but magnificent body, that she left teaching, and the last we heard was working in Glasgow at the Club Rogano, where her pole-dancing act is highly regarded by the aficionados.

Teaching is a joy.

Sport

Lots of blogs are mentioning sport recently, ManOfErrors is getting a lot of comments, with memories of past glories of caliper-laden soccer afficianados.
Now I will recognise that NZ is a sport mad country, where everyone is encouraged to go out and get active.
Why?
We have Taffy at Nuova Lazio High, who is mad keen on mountain biking (MB). He has helped to develop a (reportedly) magnificent MB track in the glorious hills surrounding the balmy valley of Nuova Lazio. At least that is what I think he said at last appell, sometimes it's difficult to work out what he is saying. I think he's fallen of his MB once to often, and is suffering from serious brain damage, like most sportsmen.

I hear reports on the wireless radio, and the wireless television of chaps doing wonderful things on emerald green paddocks;of coughing up the pill, of ball in hand (I thought they always had to do that in Rugby Union Football(RUF); of the secret black arts of the scrum(mage); of brave chaps running and playing with one testicle hanging out (have these chaps not heard of personal protectors?

what I believe our American friends would call a jockstrap, or at least good manners);many cries of "that's gotta hurt", of course it has to bloody hurt, they've just been hit/trampled/punched/choked/thrown/hit again/kicked/jumped on/butted/kneed/bitten/(and I strongly suspect in one instance French Kissed).


Reports on a strange variation of RUF called soccer, where 11 chaps kick a ball up and down another emerald green field (this time), where they are not seemingly allowed to handle the ball at all (unless it is a mysterious entity called the "Hand of God Maradonna")
Reports from an occupation called netball, where young ladies (scantily dressed and of a delicate mien)stand about, occasionally trot, and throw a ball to each other. This one is almost civilised.



Reports of beach volleyball....no I cannot go on, it is simply too much for a man of my advancing years and high blood pressure, but I have recorded some of the girls' games on the Digital Versatile Disc Recording Apparatus.
Sport is supposed to be relaxing.
At its most energetic it consists of 11 chaps, properly attired in gleaming white, wasting their time on a beautifully mown lawn of epic proportions, while we, the real sportsmen sit in deck-chairs under a brilliant sun centered in an azure dome and sip gin and tonics, and rumble quietly to each other about things of the day.
No sweat.
No blood.
And definitely no bloody women.



Ah well, a large whisky calls, while I watch our gallant 15 thrash the living daylights out of those ugly Welsh. Watched on that marvellous invention called Satellite Television, linked to my wireless television. This way I did not have to go to my well deserved bed too late.

Sleep-in Saturday

Too busy yesterday to post anything on the blog.
Reports all finished, printed and posted to the expectant kids and parents.
Nuova Lazio High was virtually empty by 4:00.
Just a few dedicated souls (not me, I was just too tired to move)completing lesson plans for next week, or setting relief for their classes next week.

That last one gives me pause.

How many other jobs do you have to do your work before you get time off.
In teaching, if you have say a doctors appointment during the day, you are expected to plan a lesson for the class(es) you are missing. Have all resources found or created and ready for the class(es), together with a list of pupils and their photographs, everything ready for your temporary replacement.
Even if you phone in sick, you are expected to provide something similar.
When you get back, it's quite common for you to be given the kid's work to mark for feedback.

So time off is not really time off.

Most of us would rather fight our way through a bad cold/flu/Lurgy or whatever, rather than take time off. It's often a lot less hastle.

Going to look at some show houses today.

We might have the option to purchase a really beautiful section in a semi-rural location, quite close to where we are now. My beloved has a really bad back, and we have to be prepared for a time when she will probably have to go into a wheelchair, so building a house with customised access is a definite possibility.

Weather here is still chilly and wet.
I must be getting old, this winter seems colder and wetter than any I can remember in NZ.






Not in Scotland. Even a mild winter in Scotland would seem like a nightmare, even to a farmer in the deeps South.
Be grateful.
You don't know how lucky you are!

6 Days to go Thursday

6 days to go.
We're getting tired.
All of us.
Kids and staff.



The kids vary between very very quiet, and sullenly snappy.
We had a bad fight break out between two boys.


One ended up unconscious in hospital.
Don't know the details yet,except was a year 10 who swung on a year 12, and the year 12 is in hospital.
This is a really rare occurrence.
Fights and scuffles are part and parcel of young boys existence, but they are mostly just pecking order push and shove.
Really looking forward to our holiday in Australia.
Cairns and Uluru, luxury hotels, sun and warm air.
6 days to go.

A Spell on Wednesday

Before I start, just came across an advert for RINGOs

Welcome to my Wednesday.


A spell by the way is the 21st Century way of saying a period at school.
We are not allowed these days to refer to a period. It's seemingly insensitive to refer to a menstrual interval. So it's a spell. We also refer to a full stop at the end of a sentence.
However, to any non-teachers out there, here is an example of what I would call a normal 55 minute spell in a computing class.
Open door to my classroom a couple of minutes before the bell (It's not actually a bell, more of a hooter cum siren).
I've just finished a duty keeping an eye on the pupils in the canteen, and I locked up just after the 5 minute warning bell.
As I come into my room, the first few pupil start to drift in.
I acknowledge them as I log on to my computer.
It's nice to say hello to the kids by name as they come in.
As I start the SMS program to enter the attendances, the kids pick up their folders from their filing cabinet and sit down at their computers and start logging on.
I don't have to give any instructions, it's an established routine.
I continue to say hello to the rest of the kids as they come in with the final bell, entering their presence on the SMS.
Everyone I expect to be here on time is here, and I start to get the class going.
I've 3 year 13s and 3 year 12s mixed in with the year11s, all following their own individual courses, and they are getting started.
The main class, all 22 of them know that if I don't give them any extra instructions they should be getting on with their own individual exercises or assessments.
I stop all of their work and get their attention.
I remind them that they have a NZQA assessment tomorrow, and that if they have any other questions based on their practice assessment feedback they should ask me today.
I tell the to carry on with their own exercises/assessments and switch on the class computer monitoring program.
Using this I can see a miniature thumbnail picture of what is on each of class's computers.
I also switch of all of their Internet access, apart from a couple of the senior pupils who need it for their research based learning.
I remind J and L that they should stop playing with the paint program and get back to their assigned work.
Start the first of the many walks around the class.
Start discussing a complex IIF logic statement that M is trying to use in a relational database.
Two girls come in to get their passwords reset.
Takes about 3 minutes, back to class.
C has her hand up, go over and see what the problem is.
She' s working on a text management assessment, and she's having a problem with sequential outline numbering in some paragraphs.
I set up a quick practice exercise so she can try to solve the problem off the assessment.
The two girls who always turn up late walk in.
These are the main problems in this class. One (the Queen B**ch) is a year 13, who constantly refuses to follow instructions and rules, treats every staff member with sneering contempt. The other is a giggly easily-swayed girl, who follows QB around everywhere.
The giggly one says sorry, the other just looks.
I carry on around the room offering advice, encouragement, praise, gentle warnings, jokes, smiles, frowns, pointing at the screens to emphasise areas of interest.
In a 5 minute segment I give instruction on:
Absolute cell referencing in a spreadsheet
Paragraph indenting
Table formatting and sorting
Graphing using non-contiguous columns of data
Adjusting graphics on a word document to an exact specification
Help K to print of on double sides A5.

At that point I sense QB walking away from her computer towards the door. I spot a wagger outside in the corridor. I ask quietly for QB to go back to her seat. She ignores me as she ignores all authority.
I walk over to the door and ask her to go back to her seat. Twice more I ask. I start to lose the politeness, and start to move between the two talking girls. QB eventually heads back to her seat the wagger takes off.
Try to have a quite word with QB to explain that the behaviour she exhibited is not acceptable. Ignores me, then starts the back chat.
I can feel the rest of class listening.
The problem is that QB is bright. She knows how far to push it before I am allowed to take stronger disciplinary action.
I suggest that if she wants to ignore school and class rules, then she may find leaving school ,permanently a viable option.
She shuts up, and gets back to doing some work.
Two more kids arrive for password resetting and more internet access.
take care of them, return to class.
Back to walking around.
M still having problems with IIf and nulls in the database. I suggest a possible partial solution, and show him (and K sitting next to him) a quick demo. He nods and stays looking at the screen thinking.
Back to tour.
Check watch, 10 minutes to go.
Back to tour.
How to change paragraph autospacing
creating and using macros
Help J who's was almost ready to give up on his spreadsheet assessment.
Went back over a couple of the basics. Got him started on his design. He began to get it, and he started smiling again.
Reminded two boys to get back on task.
Back to M, he used my demo of the IIf and null problem, and has used them to create another method of solving the problem, one I hadn't thought of.
It's times like this that makes it worthwhile being a teacher.
Tell A to stop playing with Paint
B asks for help. How to spell cat.
I tell him. "C. A. T."
He types cet.
Damn the kiwi accent. (or B's even slower than I think. He's a nice boy, who tries hard)
5 minutes to go.
Remind class they have assessment tomorrow.
Tell them they have free computer time until the end of spell.
Double check the SMS entries and my email.
Start collecting the completed assessments on spreadsheets and word.
Enter a couple of marks in the class electronic markbook.
Two kids come up to check how many credits they have accumulated.
T comes up to get her daily conduct sheet. I sign it smiling, she's been great.
I ask the kids to start saving and logging off.
Bell goes.
Kids start to put their work away in the cabinet.
Usual 2 or 3 have to be gently urged to go home, I really need a coffee.
I check my final entries in the SMS, then log of my computer.
Head for staffroom, locking door on way out.

And people wonder why teachers need long holidays.

Ringo Rustling

I was asked today who Ringo was, and I realise that many viewers/readers have no idea.

Let me set the scene.

I am a new arrival to the Blog world, and I (perhaps wrongly) appropriated Richard (of RBB)s mythical world.

Nuova Laziuo High is a mythical school, in a mythical suburb (Nuova Lazio) of a mythical town (TTuh) in the mythical country of Seeland.

Ringo is obviously a mythical character based on the worst possible aspects of an egotistical self-centered immigrant educator, of a power-hungry mien. No-one who actually exists could have such a horrible combination of character traits and be given a position of power.

What do you think this is? Fairy Land or Coronation Street?

Everything clear now?

Any questions Ricardo?

Good.


Now we can continue.



BTW,
The best author's dedication and preamble I have seen is as follows:

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book and series has no connection to reality. Any attempt by the reader to replicate any scene in this series it to be taken at the reader's own risk. For that matter, most of the actions of the main character are illegal under US and international law as well as most of the stricter religions in the world. There is no Valley of the Keldara. Heck, there is no Kildar. And the idea of some Scots and Vikings getting together to raid the Byzantine Empire is beyond ludicrous. The islands described in a previous book do not exist. Entire regions described in these books do not exist. Any attempt to learn anything from these books is disrecommended by the author, the publisher and the author's mother who wishes to state that he was a very nice boy and she doesn't know what went wrong.

Tuesday; only 9 days to go

Absolutely knackered.
Helped the good Fuhrermadchen finish her reports, and got home about 7.
Then had to mark a practice assessment for my Year 11s, and some finished assessments from my year 13s.

You have to keep the marked assessments and feedback coming, so it builds momentum. The kids really want to achieve, and they can see success. I announce every achieved, sometimes they clap someone who has been struggling a bit, I tell you, most of our kids are genuine nice people. (I never publicly announce the not-achieved, it's not my job to publicly destroy someone' s self-esteem, that's Ringo's job)

We're all counting the days now.




Next week will be fun, we've got to meet the caregivers of the pupils, and tell them nice lies about their kiddywinks.
Off to car, Stalag Luft Nuova Lazio beckons.

An Extra: Seven Habits of Successful Pirates

One of my favourite websites is Schlock Mercenaries.
They refer to a book, the seven habits of successful pirates.
Here it is using pictures as illustration.
If it offends anyone, because of the gratuitous violence, then go away!

The Seven Habits of Successful Pirates

Pillage, then burn.
Like many things in life, prioritising is important


A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.


An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody.





Close air support covereth a multitude of sins.



Close air support and friendly fire should be easier to tell apart.



If violence wasn’t your last resort, you failed to resort to enough of it.


Everything is air-droppable at least once.



A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head.



Do unto others.



Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Take his fish away and tell him he's lucky just to be alive, and he'll figure out how to catch another one for you to take tomorrow.



Don't be afraid to be the first to resort to violence.



The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy. No more. No less.



A little trust goes a long way. The less you use, the further you'll go.



That which does not kill you has made a tactical error.



If you’re leaving scorch-marks, you need a bigger gun.



There is no 'overkill.' There is only 'open fire' and 'I need to reload.

Sunday is Bliss

Woke up at 6:30 am. Had a hot drink.
Read Richard (of RBB)'s most recent posts. Goodness he's a nice guy. I don't know how someone with the obvious love of music he has, can put up with the harmonic mangling our younger and undisciplined kids can produce.
Went back to bed.
Up at 8:30. Made breakfast for my beloved, snoring gently in the warm cloud of my fart-gas.
Bless.
Wrote a practice exam for my year 11s. They actually voted to have one. I gave them the choice, and the little angels voted by about 80% to have a practice assessment. They really want to achieve. I'll do my damnedest to let them achieve.
But not at the moment.
All school work is finished.
A meal of curried chicken awaits in the fridge. (It's real home made, Malaysian style, with plenty of chili and coconut cream.)
A quiet glass of vino while we watch the All Blacks do a clinical disposal of the Welsh. (Recorded from last night)

All is peaceful.
All is warm and content.
The rain lashing against the windows does not penetrate the warm and cosy cocoon we have created in our home.
I am at peace.
I am content.
But wait.
I feel a disturbance in the Force. The Dark Side is active.
Quick.

Go, Run and warn the world.

Saturday and Survived

Well we made it through a pretty fraught week. All kind of things were happening.
First Richard (of RBB) got the New Professional Award. Wow, we all bow before his magnificence.



Then the walking disaster area that is Ringo decided that as he has left early on Thursday (while everyone else stayed behind to get things correct and finished)he would get his stuff done on Friday, ignoring his allocated responsibilities.
You know, minor things; kids with knives, kids swearing at teachers, kids with dying relatives, kids stealing form the staffroom. It doesn't matter, Ringo remains inviolate. And arrogant. And a bully.

I'm not going to give too many details (to protect the innocent) but he just pushes people about as he sees fit, regardless if it's his job to do so, regardless of the greater benefit to the school.
I know that these (and previous comments) may sound a little bitter and twisted (check my name for goodness sakes), and I have tried to be as objective as possible, due to a previous competition which I lost, but this man is almost singlehandedly destroying the fantastic collegial atmosphere which was the main saving grace of Nuova Lazio High.
The previous Führer, now with the Afrika Corps in the scorching desert sands, made many improvements to this Stalag, and some mistakes, and I believe his biggest mistake was appointing Oberstürmbahnführer von Ringo to the General Staff of Stalag Luft Nuova Lazio.
Finally after I had sorted out various mistakes and re-printed the junior reports, I began to print out the seniors.
Picture the situation.
I don't have any time off.
I'm teaching senior and junior classes, who need constant teaching, supervision and encouragement.
I'm trying to print to the main printer in the main office. 200 meters away.
I'm using an advanced printer configuration setup to produce booklet type reports.
I get a phone call (in my classroom while I'm teaching)that the main printer has made a funny kind of grinding/crunching noise and has stopped.
After 10 minutes I get the message that it's restarted.
Repeat the entire sequence 3 times. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop.
Every time it stops, we're not sure what has been missed, and what has actually printed.
While I'm trying to sort this out, my Year 10 class arrives. A strange mix of bright hyperactive, evil hyperactive, clever, dumb, super-hardworking, insecure, defiant, resistant, forward, precocious, mongrel-mob prospective, talkative, loud, gossipy, bad-tempered, and generally nice kids. In other words a normal class.
Non-teachers may find this strange, but no matter what you hear, the vast majority of the kids we teach in schools are nice kids. Reasonably well behaved. A bit more argumentative than you will remember from your school days, but basically nice, decent kids who want to learn and to progress.
It's the scum of the difficult 5% who stuff it up for everybody else.
In these days of complete educational inclusion, you cannot just throw these buggers out.
Even though they probably account for 25% of teacher time in trying to create a safe working environment for your classes, and severely reduce the attainment levels of the majority of the kids, we are no longer allowed to remove the sods. The MOE gets really upset if we fling them away.
If they acted the way they do in adult life, they would end up "as a guest of Her Majesty".
But not as a juvenile.
They're safe, and they know it. We can do very little to them as long as they don't actually thump/knife/shoot anyone.
However,back to reports. The end result was chaos. I wasn't sure what had been printed or not printed. When I tried to get back into the print room to check, it was locked. Everyone had gone home.
At 3:30 there was no one left in the Stalag from the Reichsgruppe.
Sod it.
We can sort it out on Monday.
Laphroig (thanks Peter) beckons.
New horizons next week. Onward is better.

T. F. I. Friday

This has seemed an extraordinarily long week. Normally I find that the days just flash past, but not this week.
I suspect it was the reports.
Even though I set up the report creating system, the templates and the mark books, and have to get the damn things printed, I don't get any extra time allowance to do what I need to do. Normally I don't mind, but several factors combined to squeeze my time management.
Never mind, they're almost finished.
About 14 of us teachers stayed behind last night to complete the proof reading. This is where we sit down, read every teacher's comment in every class and check grammar, spelling, accuracy etc.
We all can make mistakes, and it's quite important that the reports to the caregivers of our pupils are as accurate as possible. It's one way in which a school is judged.
We have planned that the junior (Year 9 & 10) reports would be posted tomorrow, and with almost 450 of them to do, the overworked office staff need most of the day to get them ready for the post at 3:00 pm.
At this stage, these reports are supposed to have been proof read by at least 3 people, and are just awaiting the hand-written comments of the Deputy Principal for that year group.
Now don't get bored and go away, I'm getting to the interesting bit.
Understand the urgency of getting them all finished ready for Friday printing.
Understand that the staffroom is full of people working feverishly on piles of paper
Understand the frustration of the Mums and Dads who want to be home with their young kids.
Understand the tiredness but dedication in everyone.

Then Ringo said he was going home.

This is the guy who is charge of a major lump of our junior school.(and paid major bucks for that responsibility)
This is the guy who hasn't been communicating with anyone involved in the whole process.
This is the guy who called in his two Deans and basically gave them the reports to get edited, and said you fix them.
You could say that rank hath it's privileges.
You could say that the guy had young kids to get home for (but so did many who stayed until 9:00 pm)
You could also say that this behaviour amplifies the deep and building contempt for someone who just doesn't get it.



His reports weren't finished; he'd handed piles of his work onto others and he went home, knowing that he was going to be giving a lot of people a lot of extra work to do on Friday.
Apart from anything else, it's deeply un-professional, and this guy is supposed to be an example for our younger teachers?

My goodness, if Nuova Lazio ever ended up with this guy in charge, god help the staff and kids.
Especially the kids, because the staff can always get a job somewhere else (and many already have plans), but the poor inhabitants of our valley will be stuffed.