Since I was still keen to make myself, and what I do, known to as many SPA students as possible before calling Auditions for the show, we had a plan whereby I taught some lessons. This would be either to classes prepared for me to take their class, or for those whose teachers were absent; cover teaching once again (and taking me back to Plymouth, 1978.) This would have to be when the Seminar Room (SR) would be free however; I had tried teaching Drama in their classrooms, and it was impossible. Since the classes I taught would arise rather haphazardly, I agreed to work in the Staff Room and await the call. Around lunchtime, it came.
I went to the SR to await their arrival. It made for a messy start. The area right outside is where the better toilets are, so are quite popular, and I had no idea who would be coming to me. But eventually, it cleared, and then my students started to arrive, girls first; lateness is part of the culture, but it affects the boys worse.
I got them to clear enough chairs to create a space, then form into a circle, Nepalese style, boys in one group, girls in another, with a bit of a gap where the two met… actually, not all that different from what usually happens in Drama classes in England. At first, naturally enough, they were visibly wary, of this strange, slightly manic man. I taught them zip, zap boing – it’s been a factor in every project I’ve done – to get them moving, and demonstrate that the point was to have fun. And then got them moving, and freezing on command, to show them that discipline was vital. And then, back in a circle, statue exercises – showing happy, happier, happiest – and the same for scared, sad, angry. And statues in 2s or 3s, freezing a moment from a fight scene. And by now they were getting it. That they had to be all different, not all the same. That they needed to show their emotions, even pretend emotions. That the more physical it was, the more interesting it was. And some of them were great. I was exhausted by now, and soaked, head to foot, so we played zzb again – they were miles better now – talked to them about why all this nonsense was important, and let them go. They were disappointed it was over, while I, on the other hand was relieved. I had expended just about all of my energy, and was rather hoping there would be no more classes; maybe I am getting a bit old for this.
I was recovering in the staffroom when I was summoned again. So be it. But the gods were smiling, for when I reached the SR, they were preparing the room for a lecture. Instead, I was fetched by Aanshika and Apekshya, whose class it was, and taken to a classroom. It was Social Studies in Nepalese, probably a bit beyond me – so I allowed them either to chat with me in English, which turned out to be A and A, or to get on with their work in silence, everyone else.
They were a taciturn bunch, and I was rather relieved I hadn’t had to teach them Drama; in any case they had imminent exams. Not that this seemed to bother one tall, rather imposing young man, who got up to go out. He did say something to me, which I didn’t really understand, but it was probably to go to the toilet, or some other important errand I knew nothing of. When he came back a few minutes later, he wandered to the back of the class, sat down, without any books, and started chatting with those around him. I reminded him to work, and asked where his books were. He pointed to the front, where he had left them, but otherwise ignored me. I was getting the full-on cover gteacher treatment, but I wasn’t having that. I went to talk to him, and there was a somewhat surly stand-off. I said a few things about what I expected, told him he was the only person I had met here who showed disrespect… which he continued to do, looking away insolently. So I told him to leave.
It was not a problem so far as I was concerned; I had encountered hundred of young people like him, and worse. But it had to be addressed, so I went to see Yogi, explained what had occurred. The boy was sent for, arriving with another teacher (faculty head?) after a few minutes. I did not fully understand the ensuing discussion, as it was in a mixture of English and Nepali, but there were some mis-steps: a concern that he might have been about to respond physically (I did not feel threatened; some allusion to the expense of attending Stowe.
I asked him to explain to the teachers, in his own language so he could speak fully, what had happened, and then I asked to speak, directly to him. I told him kit was nothing to do with me personally, but that he had disrespected a teacher, a representative of the college; that he was very lucky to be at SPA, but was wasting his own time and his parents’ money; and that whatever he felt about his own education, he had absolutely no right to affect the education of everyone else in the class. He was asked to apologise, did so, I accepted his apology, shook his hand, and he left.
It will make no difference; his attitude is set, there will be no Damascene conversion. But I did feel it important to establish my own position (without being a bastard about it.)
