They Called Me Mister

Today was my introduction day for the primary school at which I'll do my first teaching prac.

I really enjoyed it. Loved the school, rated the kids (year 4/5's) and loved listening to the bitter whingeing of the ageing teachers in the staffroom.

The deputy principal was appropriately manic, the female librarian was a fuddy duddy and the dance teacher was camper than a row of tents. So I can check all my stereotype boxes.

The only dark cloud was my co-student teacher. He is studying to be a tech teacher and is, to put it bluntly, a bit of a wanker.

Some of his comments made in all seriousness:

• (About a little girl crying because she fell over) Fuck, no wonder so many of our kids turn into fags.
• Autism? What the fuck is that?
• (Upon learning that brandy - the game - is banned) These cunts need to take a spoonful of cement... and harden the fuck up. (boom tish)
• (About the deputy principal) What the fuck is up her arse?

Our mentor teacher asked if we wanted to mark some spelling for her while the kids were at another lesson. My co-student - let's call him J - just gave them all ticks because, 'I can't fucken spell anyway,' then stole some stickers to put in one of the cool kids books. 'Is this book his? Oh, who's she? That tubby bitch, fuck her. Fuck she's ugly.'

So rest assured Australia. Your future generations are in safe hands.