WILLIAM

    I was working with a young class one day - they were a Third Year, I think; all about 13 - when the classroom door at the far end of the room opened silently and two tall young men stood in the opening, beaming at me with what looked like a mixture of delight and relief. Perhaps they had thought I might have died.
    I knew I had last seen them both when they were aged about 15. Then they had decided that they could never pass the Baccalaureate, which is a tough exam, and they had both left to find a simpler option. Now they both looked nearer 20.
    The darker and shorter of the two was all in black, with a heavy gold chain at the neck. Physically compact and competent he looked as he was perpetually balanced on his feet and he moved from his hips like a fighter. His taller companion was dressed far less dramatically, but loomed over him like a blue eyed blond colossus.
    I did not want them just then to interrupt the class. "Come back in twenty minutes, lads." I told them. They nodded, and left without a word.
    Precisely twenty minutes later they were back again and I was then ready to invite them both to the front of the class, suggesting that they introduce themselves to the class, starting with their names, which I was embarrassed to discover I had entirely forgotten.
    They came to the front, and turned. I stood off to one side to give them the centre stage.
    "Well, then," began the dark one, sweeping the transfixed class with a challenging stare. "My name is William Anastasiadis. I will now spell that for you!"
    Which he promptly did: counting off the letters on his fingers one by one. To the suddenly even quieter class it was obvious that to anyone who might in future get this wrong might suffer actual grievous bodily harm:

"A- N-A-S-T-A-S-I-A-D-I-S!"

    "And this," he now turned and pointed at me, apparently with equal menace, "is the best teacher we ever have."
    At which the frowning face of the tall colossus, later to introduce himself Scott Walker, broke into a wide grin, and he nodded solemnly.
    The class - of course - was perfectly astonished.

11/05/05

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	WILLIAM "If a doctor, lawyer, or dentist had 25 people in his office at one time, all of whom had different needs, and some of whom didn't want to be there and were causing trouble, and the doctor, lawyer, or dentist, without assistance, had to treat them all with professional excellence for nine months, then he might have some conception of the classroom teacher's job." -- Colman McCarthy in The Washington Post
I was working with a young class one day - they were a Third Year, I think; all about 13 - when the classroom door at the far end of the room opened silently and two tall young men stood in the opening, beaming at me with what looked like a mixture of delight and relief. Perhaps they had thought I might have died. I knew I had last seen them both when they were aged about 15. Then they had decided that they could never pass the Baccalaureate, which is a tough exam, and they had both left to find a simpler option. Now they both looked nearer 20. The darker and shorter of the two was all in black, with a heavy gold chain at the neck. Physically compact and competent he looked as he was perpetually balanced on his feet and he moved from his hips like a fighter. His taller companion was dressed far less dramatically, but loomed over him like a blue eyed blond colossus. I did not want them just then to interrupt the class. "Come back in twenty minutes, lads." I told them. They nodded, and left without a word. Precisely twenty minutes later they were back again and I was then ready to invite them both to the front of the class, suggesting that they introduce themselves to the class, starting with their names, which I was embarrassed to discover I had entirely forgotten. They came to the front, and turned. I stood off to one side to give them the centre stage. "Well, then," began the dark one, sweeping the transfixed class with a challenging stare. "My name is William Anastasiadis. I will now spell that for you!" Which he promptly did: counting off the letters on his fingers one by one. To the suddenly even quieter class it was obvious that to anyone who might in future get this wrong might suffer actual grievous bodily harm: "A- N-A-S-T-A-S-I-A-D-I-S!" "And this," he now turned and pointed at me, apparently with equal menace, "is the best teacher we ever have." At which the frowning face of the tall colossus, later to introduce himself Scott Walker, broke into a wide grin, and he nodded solemnly. The class - of course - was perfectly astonished. 11/05/05 If you have arrived from an external link click here.