(no subject)
We don't need no educashun!
After 10 days of "getting used to England" I was finally enrolled in the local school. This would also be the start of a hate/hate relationship between me, the colonial, as I was called by the teachers, and the "Old Boys" academy of teaching. The head of the school was a tall and oddly shaped man by the name of Henry Fone, or Sir Henry Fone as he would become later, when Lady Thatcher handed out awards for warping youth. He was from a different time, one where the empire still covered half the globe and people like me knew their place in the class system, in both school and in society. Our first meeting was not one that set the right tone. I was a rebellious teen who was one step away from being in a young offenders institute (we will gloss over this for now, but we will come back to it) and I didn't so much as have a chip on my shoulder, as half a tree with a sign that read "no trespassing" nailed to it. He explained to me and my mother that the American school system was "lacking" and that I would be too far behind to be with "young people" of my own age and it was in the best interest for all concerned that I be put back a year so that I would "at least stand a fighting chance" of passing any form of English exams. This didn't endear him to me as I felt it was slight to both my country and more importantly to my intelligence. My opinions however were of little importance in this school system. One thing Fone did notice however was that since I was a regular swimmer in the states I was broad shouldered and fairly well built for my age. I could easily pass for eighteen or older in comparison to my fellow classmates, he smelled trouble, and he was right on this occasion. The next piece of information was even more of a blow, I had to go from what I was used to in terms of wearing almost anything within reason to school, to wearing a uniform. The problem was not about the wearing of what was effectively a suit, but having to wear a polyester suit, which wasn't in any way designed to take someone with wide shoulders, and a tie that should only be worn by used car salesmen or people who fashion sense stopped in the 1930's. I hated everything about this new conformist style of attire and so being the type of person I am (and we shall learn a lot more about that soon enough), I altered the uniform in a few small ways. None of which endeared me to the teachers or the school. I didn't do anything except buy versions of the tie that to me looked "about the same" but nice, The suit was "almost the right colour" but made from cotton and not plastic. And I refused to wear the silly badge... which I mounted to a bit of card and would draw like some naff detective when asked where it was. I was chided for my lack of school spirit, but I didn't have any issues with that. it was SCHOOL! who the hell wanted to be enthusiastic about school. I had enough of "pep rallies" and cheerleaders.. ok I didn't have enough of cheerleaders.. I just had enough of what cheerleaders stood for... but the uniforms could stay. What really irritated them was that I didn't have the "fear". When the teachers would yell "You boy!" I would turn and without any hint of amusement say "yes, old dude!". They just didn't know how to take me, and to be honest, I didn't have the foggiest clue how to take them. I was used to teachers who attempted to connect by coming down to the students level, these guys worked on an Us and Them principle and I wasn't a Them, and I really didn't liek the Us. I had become, very quickly a "fugee", a person without an identity. I realised that keeping up the American identity was never gonna win me friends and piers, but I didn't want to be a Brit either. My accent altered and more and more people mistook me for a Canadian. At the time this annoyed me... later I would use it to my advantage.
After 10 days of "getting used to England" I was finally enrolled in the local school. This would also be the start of a hate/hate relationship between me, the colonial, as I was called by the teachers, and the "Old Boys" academy of teaching. The head of the school was a tall and oddly shaped man by the name of Henry Fone, or Sir Henry Fone as he would become later, when Lady Thatcher handed out awards for warping youth. He was from a different time, one where the empire still covered half the globe and people like me knew their place in the class system, in both school and in society. Our first meeting was not one that set the right tone. I was a rebellious teen who was one step away from being in a young offenders institute (we will gloss over this for now, but we will come back to it) and I didn't so much as have a chip on my shoulder, as half a tree with a sign that read "no trespassing" nailed to it. He explained to me and my mother that the American school system was "lacking" and that I would be too far behind to be with "young people" of my own age and it was in the best interest for all concerned that I be put back a year so that I would "at least stand a fighting chance" of passing any form of English exams. This didn't endear him to me as I felt it was slight to both my country and more importantly to my intelligence. My opinions however were of little importance in this school system. One thing Fone did notice however was that since I was a regular swimmer in the states I was broad shouldered and fairly well built for my age. I could easily pass for eighteen or older in comparison to my fellow classmates, he smelled trouble, and he was right on this occasion. The next piece of information was even more of a blow, I had to go from what I was used to in terms of wearing almost anything within reason to school, to wearing a uniform. The problem was not about the wearing of what was effectively a suit, but having to wear a polyester suit, which wasn't in any way designed to take someone with wide shoulders, and a tie that should only be worn by used car salesmen or people who fashion sense stopped in the 1930's. I hated everything about this new conformist style of attire and so being the type of person I am (and we shall learn a lot more about that soon enough), I altered the uniform in a few small ways. None of which endeared me to the teachers or the school. I didn't do anything except buy versions of the tie that to me looked "about the same" but nice, The suit was "almost the right colour" but made from cotton and not plastic. And I refused to wear the silly badge... which I mounted to a bit of card and would draw like some naff detective when asked where it was. I was chided for my lack of school spirit, but I didn't have any issues with that. it was SCHOOL! who the hell wanted to be enthusiastic about school. I had enough of "pep rallies" and cheerleaders.. ok I didn't have enough of cheerleaders.. I just had enough of what cheerleaders stood for... but the uniforms could stay. What really irritated them was that I didn't have the "fear". When the teachers would yell "You boy!" I would turn and without any hint of amusement say "yes, old dude!". They just didn't know how to take me, and to be honest, I didn't have the foggiest clue how to take them. I was used to teachers who attempted to connect by coming down to the students level, these guys worked on an Us and Them principle and I wasn't a Them, and I really didn't liek the Us. I had become, very quickly a "fugee", a person without an identity. I realised that keeping up the American identity was never gonna win me friends and piers, but I didn't want to be a Brit either. My accent altered and more and more people mistook me for a Canadian. At the time this annoyed me... later I would use it to my advantage.