Roy Apps - EDGE: How To Handle: Your Teacher

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Teacher-Type 1: Bossy BootsTeacher-Type 2: Clever ClogsTeacher-Type 3: Hot ShoesTeacher-Type 4: Dozy DrawersTeacher-Type 5: Woolly Hat1: The Joggeraphy Teacher2: The Hologram Teacher3: The Hollergram Teacher4: The Horror-Gram Teacher5: The Super Robot TeacherLearning about just what goes on in the staff roomLearning about the power source Under no circumstances must you allow a TEACHER to get hold of this book. Some teachers can read, and if they read this book they will get to know your teacher-handling strategy. In other words, they will be forewarned. And as the proverb says, Forewarned is forearmed. Believe me, theres nothing more scary than a four-armed teacher. So, there are two things you can do to make sure your teacher doesnt read this book You can put it somewhere your teacher will never find it like in a block of concrete, 20 metres under the school playing field.

The trouble with this solution is that youll need a digger, a power drill and a team of navvies every time you want to read a bit of it. You can flick to the fake contents page (see ) and leave the book open safely anywhere you like. If a teacher reads the book, they wont bother reading any further, because it contains things no teacher would ever have the slightest interest in.

Chapter 1 How to give your pupils EXTRA BREAK TIMES Chapter 2 200 easy ways of setting LESS HOMEWORK Chapter 3 How to timetable ALL-DAY LUNCH TIMES Chapter 4 Why FEWER LESSONS are good for your pupils Chapter 5 One hundred top PRESENTS to buy your pupils this Christmas It was a wonderfully balmy summers evening. Id just spent a couple of hours surfing the net. I went home, logged on and checked my computer mailbox for e-mails. I went home, logged on and checked my computer mailbox for e-mails.

There werent any. So I checked my other mailbox for fe-mails, instead A young girl jumped out. She had a mountain bike in one hand and a large white envelope in the other. This is for you, she said. Thanks very much, I replied. Ive always wanted a mountain bike.

Not the mountain bike! the girl retorted. The envelope. Read it, pea brain. It said: The girl leapt on to her saddle and pedalled off. I felt very hurt. I went back inside, put my feet up on the sofa and tore open the envelope. Inside there was a letter. Inside there was a letter.

In fact, there were lots of letters. And they were all written down on a page of paper like this: I was amazed! To think that a headteacher could write a letter like that! I mean, what is a headteacher for, if it isnt for keeping teachers under control? Goodness, some of my best friends were head teachers, not to mention some of my best fiends. There was nothing else for it. I would have to do something I never managed to do in all my 13 years at school; I would have to do what the headteacher told me. I would have to sit down and write a book lerning ev ree wun ow terrandle blooming teechers. To be honest, I was looking forward to writing a book called How to Handle Your Teacher.

I thought it would be a piece of cake. All I had to do was to refresh my memory of my days at school. Although it was many years since I had left my school, I knew exactly where I had left it right on the corner of Canal Street: The first person I saw was my old teacher Mr Meesley-Grewell. He hadnt changed much, except that he wasnt so much my old teacher Mr Meesley-Grewell, more like my totally ancient teacher, Mr Meesley-Grewell. Our conversation went something like this, or rather, it went precisely like this:

	ME: (CHEERILY) Hello, Mr Meesley-Grewell!
	MR M-G: (ANGRY) Ah, boy, have you finished it yet?
	ME: Finished what, Mr Meesley-Grewell?
	MR M-G: Your project on Why I Think Climbing Chimneys Is An Incredibly Useful Job For a Boy To Do.
	MR M-G: I want the truth, lad!

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