A funny and poignant look at teaching from the sharp end. A must-read for any budding teacher.
Fran Hill is a very funny lady. She is also a dedicated teacher, and her account of a year in the life of a school and the day-to-day trials, challenges and joys of teaching; not to mention the constant task of marking, will, I’m sure, resonate with those in the teaching profession.
Written as a diary, ‘Miss, What Does Incomprehensible Mean?’ is peppered with some very funny lines that Hill has a brilliant ear for. All of us who have read and adored the late Sue Townsend’s Adrian Mole diaries will also come to chuckle at Hill’s perceptive insights and witty ripostes - whether in the classroom to her pupils, or to the mirror in her bathroom. One of many such observations reads as follows:
Studied Wilfred Owen’s poem ‘Disabled’ with Year 8, comparing it with ‘Dulce et Decorum est’. One boy said he’d wanted to join the army like his dad and grandad, but the war poems had changed his mind.
‘Because of the suffering?’ I said.
No, not that. He didn’t want to risk meeting boring people who wrote poems.
But this is so much more than just an entertaining look at the teaching establishment, it is also the author’s brave confrontation and coming to terms with her own childhood traumas. Without wanting to give too much away, suffice it to say that Hill has written a classic work of humour that treads that fine line between comedy and tragedy. She doesn’t shy away from some painfully sad moments when they come her way, as I’m sure they do to all teachers who deal with children from all walks of life and social backgrounds.
Ultimately, this is a touching and poignant account of teaching in the UK. It should be on every would-be teacher's booklist, not just because it’s informative, but because it’s a bloody good read, and, dare I say it - inspirational.
Fran Hill is a very funny lady. She is also a dedicated teacher, and her account of a year in the life of a school and the day-to-day trials, challenges and joys of teaching; not to mention the constant task of marking, will, I’m sure, resonate with those in the teaching profession.
Written as a diary, ‘Miss, What Does Incomprehensible Mean?’ is peppered with some very funny lines that Hill has a brilliant ear for. All of us who have read and adored the late Sue Townsend’s Adrian Mole diaries will also come to chuckle at Hill’s perceptive insights and witty ripostes - whether in the classroom to her pupils, or to the mirror in her bathroom. One of many such observations reads as follows:
Studied Wilfred Owen’s poem ‘Disabled’ with Year 8, comparing it with ‘Dulce et Decorum est’. One boy said he’d wanted to join the army like his dad and grandad, but the war poems had changed his mind.
‘Because of the suffering?’ I said.
No, not that. He didn’t want to risk meeting boring people who wrote poems.
But this is so much more than just an entertaining look at the teaching establishment, it is also the author’s brave confrontation and coming to terms with her own childhood traumas. Without wanting to give too much away, suffice it to say that Hill has written a classic work of humour that treads that fine line between comedy and tragedy. She doesn’t shy away from some painfully sad moments when they come her way, as I’m sure they do to all teachers who deal with children from all walks of life and social backgrounds.
Ultimately, this is a touching and poignant account of teaching in the UK. It should be on every would-be teacher's booklist, not just because it’s informative, but because it’s a bloody good read, and, dare I say it - inspirational.
