No Dark Sarcasm, In The Classroom

"Please, don't talk to me when your voice is such a phatta huwa dhol (broken drum)"
This is what my dad said to me recently when I was trying to have a conversation with him.

*Drum Roll*
Ladies and germs, announcing the arrival of the end of term tests.
It's revision week in school.

The end of term is a torture for us poor souls. The academic world has fooled us nitwits into believing that examinations are for students. That is a lie. They are purely a test for the teachers. A test of their patience, sanity and the strength of their vocal chords as they revise lesson upon lesson from the beginning of time. Of course, this results in long nights spent in front of the television while we eat chocolate and contemplate our utter failure as human beings. If you want to know why we're always angry, constantly frowning and look like we'll pounce on you at the first opportunity we get, its not PMS. Its exams.

How Monsters Are Made

If you chance to actually have your wits about you as you walk down the hall to class for another twenty minutes of throat-rape, the craziness of this time will hit you with full force.
As hard as the teacher is working, the students will be just as resistant to absorbing the knowledge. Some are playing making catapults with rulers, obliterating Mathematical questions in their head by throwing erasers at them. A few are busy talking to each other, some are actually conversing with something invisible and some have just given up completely and are sitting with their eyes closed, their mouths open and drool dripping from the sides of their mouths. And don't be fooled by those sitting with their eyes wide-open, staring at the teacher as if riveted by every word they are spitting out. They are one of those few genius individuals who have mastered the art of sleeping  with their eyes open.

Oh well! At least there's no discipline issues here.

As for the teacher, she enters the class, screams for discipline and then begins a repetitive tirade of facts as she tries to ingrain as much information as she can into her students brains. She doesn't even stop to drink water because she knows that the second she stops talking, there will be utter chaos. And then of course, there are those moments when you feel like either throwing the students out of the open window, smacking the book across their heads repeatedly, hoping something might jump from the book into their resistant brains or running out of the room, screaming, arms flailing hoping you'll be able to run fast enough to time travel to retirement.


And then of course, are the stupid, stupid questions that students insist on asking.
Right after I explained the entire life-cycle of a butterfly, complete with pictures and models, one wise guy who'd been sleeping throughout the session asks "Ma'am, does a caterpillar have wings?"
I cringed. I wanted to stuff his face with the plastic models of the caterpillar. I wanted to feed him caterpillar bisque.

Another time; while discussing birds.
A: What are the bodies of birds covered with?
Class: Feathers (an the top of their lungs)
Repeats twice more
A: What is a penguin?
Class: Its a bird
A: So is it covered with feathers?
The class starts off with a yes, but when it hears a few no's, they all end up with a No.

During a particularly difficult explanation on Volcanoes, a boy starts jumping up and down with his hands raised, an intense look on his face. Normally, I don't allow questions until the end of the explanation so as not to break the flow, but seeing his face, I thought, what the hell. At least he looked interested enough to ask questions.
A: Yes, what would you like to ask?
Boy: When will we celebrate my birthday?
               

These days are pure hell. 

If you want redemption, teach. 

God will forgive your sins.