Say that again?

On some days the rooms that I work in are converted broom closets - little cubbyholes where it is just possible to squeeze a piano in and a couple of chairs. On other days the piano rooms are part of a larger music room. I much prefer the broom closets, despite the lack of space, because they are isolated rooms, and I'm not bothered by kids who are (or should be) having their class music lessons.

Today was one of the latter days. I'm in the piano room, within the large classroom, and there is a year 10 class (15-year-olds) going on outside my room. Jackie, the teacher, tells the twenty or so students to do some compositions. She gives the boys and girls some basic instructions, then lets them loose on the keyboards while she sits at her desk. The way they chat and just mess around on the keyboards, they might as well be decomposing. I hear my name occasionally being chanted by that one student. I decide that it's not worth stopping my lesson, to go out and confront him, give credence to the fool and make him look "cool" in front of his friends - especially when there already is a teacher in charge of that class - and so I put up with it.

Soon it's time for "Listening". The students have to listen to a piece of music and answer a few questions. Jackie explains each question, plays the extract, and sits at her desk again.

It's a piece of classical music. Within two seconds there is a loud yawn. The extract plays on, the murmuring continues, students start to chat. Jackie sits at her desk - if they don't want to learn, that's their problem. Pretty soon the chatting is louder than the music, students are talking across the room, and Jackie is at her desk. Someone shouts an obscenity, one so gross I peek to see Jackie's reaction. Erm.... Jackie is at her desk. The music plays on, the chatting continues, and mercifully the class soon ends.

Break time. I casually stroll out.

"Rough class."

"Yeah."

"Who was that chanting my name?"

"Was there? It might have been Jason. He was being a prat today."

I decide to be really blunt. "Was it Jason who yelled 'fucking cunt'?"

"Probably."

I leave it at that. Neither of us wants to get into any further discussion, but at least I've made my point - it was audible, the class heard it, I heard it, and she should have dealt with it.

Most class teachers have a thankless job. I know, I was one until I decided enough was enough. I feel for the teachers who often feel trapped in their jobs; powerless to stem the tide of anti-social behaviour or lack of student motivation. I feel for the teachers who feel trapped and are destroyed by the system - a system that doesn't really address learning, but at the very best, can only keep the downslide at bay; teachers that feel they are fighting a losing battle, wrestling with bad behaviour, trying to meet targets, and teachers who eventually decide that in the interests of self-preservation, least resistance is best - and give up, and let the tide carry them, by which time they can't be bothered to deal with students, or teach effectively. Usually by that time, they've given up on life. It's sad, but most teachers that I see end up like that - by that time, they are talking about "early retirement" - with still well over a decade to go. Sad.