Launching the Launchers, by Georgie Tennant

I wonder how many of us take inspiration for our writing from the everyday lives we live: the people we see around us and the situations we find ourselves in. 

I have heard Wendy Jones joke, before, that people who irritate her on trains become fair fodder to be bumped off in her next crime novel.  I, myself, often drift from the moment I am in, pondering what great blog posts I could write from overheard snippets of conversation or situations that have arisen.

As a teacher, much fodder for writing arises, daily in the classroom.  I hope you will humour me whilst I share a couple of my favourites from nearly two decades in the classroom.

The two memories that still amuse me most, both involve unfortunate mispronunciations – one, a student’s; the other, mine.

The first was a Friday-period-five Year 8 lesson, early on in my career.  Together, we were working our way through the lengthy ballad, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” James (we’ll call him that for preservation of dignity) was selected to read.  Loudly and clearly he intoned, “And through the drifts, the snowy cliffs did send a dismal sheen: Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken – the ice was all between.”

Except.  Instead of “beasts,” he said “breasts.” 


I had a nanosecond of wondering whether to let it pass, unnoticed, before I realised this was a wild hope; the whole class were falling off their chairs, hooting.  I gave up and joined in.  Thankfully, “James,” saw the funny side and still remembered it fondly when he left at the end of Year 11.

My mirth at another’s expense came back to bite me, years later, in a class of Year 9s at a different school.  As I attempted to read aloud to the class, the phrase “thorny hedge” tripped off my tongue as “horny thedge.”  The class sniggered.  We could probably have moved on with my dignity almost intact.

Except, for some reason, it really tickled me.  I began to giggle.  Uncontrollably.  In my own lesson.  One kind fourteen-year-old boy offered mercifully, “Miss, would you like me to continue whilst you compose yourself?”  I took him up on his offer, desperately trying to think of anything that would stop my shaking shoulders and schoolgirl sniggering.  Teaching is not for the faint hearted!

I have had the privilege, this week, of receiving an advance copy of Fran Hill’s wonderful new memoir, “Miss, What Does Incomprehensible Mean?” which tells similar stories, diary style, covering a year of her life as a classroom teacher.  There is something so wonderful about getting a glimpse into another teacher’s world, and finding it so similar to one’s own.  Somehow, reading it, I felt less alone in my struggles with teaching and more able to laugh at its quirks and celebrate its brilliance.


She doesn’t just stop at funny stories though – through the memoir-diary style of her writing, there is much deep and honest writing, too, as she allows the reader a glimpse into some poignant moments – both her own and those of the students in her care.  I finished the book, wishing I had been a pupil in one of her classes.

Why am I saying all of this here, on this blog?  I was moved by Deborah Jenkins’ post last week, by the plight of authors trying to launch their books during lockdown. It made me want to help in any way I could.  It’s hard enough, cutting the ribbon on your novel and letting it set sail into the big wide yonder. In the current climate, it must feel like the odds are stacked against success even more. Perhaps, I hoped, by telling some silly stories of my own and whetting your appetite, I might give a new book a small boost, that helps put a bit more wind in its sails.

Perhaps by sharing this post, far and wide, tweeting and retweeting about the book as the launch approaches this week (Thursday 21st) you could help put some wind in its sails too.

And don’t stop there.  We’re an encouraging bunch in the ACW.  Our fellow authors are currently launching their work into especially stormy seas.  Particularly here, particularly now, let’s join forces to give their wonderful work the very best chance of making it to their hoped-for destinations.

(If you want to even further and buy a copy for yourself or a teacher in your life, or indeed for anyone who might appreciate a warm and witty read, here is a link for you! https://spckpublishing.co.uk/miss-what-does-incomprehensible-mean).


Georgie Tennant is a secondary school English teacher in a Norfolk Comprehensive.  She is married, with two sons, aged 11 and 9 who keep her exceptionally busy. She writes for the ACW ‘Christian Writer’ magazine occasionally, and is a contributor to the ACW-Published ‘New Life: Reflections for Lent,’ and ‘Merry Christmas, Everyone,’ and, more recently, has contributed to a phonics series, out later this year. She writes the ‘Thought for the Week’ for the local newspaper from time to time and also muses about life and loss on her blog: www.somepoemsbygeorgie.blogspot.co.uk



Comments

  1. Great post, Georgie. And I love those teaching stories. Maybe you should write your own teaching memoir? You are so right re helping eachother launch in these challenging times. Thanks for motivating us X

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  2. This is wonderful, Georgie. Horny thedge! Made me wonder what a thedge might be? I am seeing some kind of farming implement (a bit like a mattock?) as in, "He wielded his thedge as the wind howled around the hornbeam grove." As another early reader of Fran's brilliant book, I couldn't agree more. I'll be sharing this far and wide. Let's all put our shoulders to the wheel and help each other in these difficult times. There is no more supportive, encouraging or inspiring group of people than the ACW.

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  3. I think a horny thedge could be a tricky problem needing attention, with the help of friends.

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    1. A regular application of medicated cream would probably clear it up

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  4. Impressed that your 'horny thedge' moment didn't end up with your class in chaos! Well done at managing to hold it together in the midst of enjoying a funny moment.

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  5. Lovely to add some humour today! enjoyed this. i remember one of my friends during a senior school English lesson reading from Keats "To a Grecian Urn" a line "...with beaded bubbles binking at the whim..." The teacher, a humourless woman, was extremely cross at the poem being subverted! My friend went on to become a teacher of secondary English herself... (what is the verb 'to bink?'

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  6. Very good. Why didn't I get an advance copy ?? Feeling green! I've pre ordered it and will be receiving, reading and hopefully reviewing it on publication day.

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