Unseen Flirtations – If Teachers Were Like Footballers
If teachers were like footballers – can you imagine that?
I’d be standing here in a blazer with my name across the back.
There’d be children up and down the land with posters of me teaching
And they’d support the borough that I teach in,
So I suppose they’d support… Ealing.
I’d be teaching in a stadium with 60,000 people,
You’d already know my name before I had a chance to meet you.
You’d have seen me in the paper; there’d be pictures of me smiling
As I put a little bastard in detention - on a Friday.
You’d want to get my autograph,
You’d whisper when you saw me.
You’d groan at my mistakes
And when I’m great, you would applaud me.
You’d queue to see my lessons and you’d pay to come and see me
And the ratings would be high whenever I was on the TV.
I could actually own a car
‘Cos I could actually afford it,
I’d be creaming off the cash from all my lucrative endorsements,
Like - BIC: ‘For when you REALLY need to tick’.
Take a picture –click!-
Hand on hip,
Billboard sized pic.
Picture Mr Boakye (me)
And the paparazzi
Taking pictures of me leaving Parent’s Evening after dark in
A designer tweed jacket
With designer dark glasses,
Trying hard to hide behind a shiny new designer mark-book…
And every single test would be a national event
And all my fans would scream out “Yes!” whenever I devised a question
That my pupils couldn’t guess –
-And the pundits would suggest
That “He’s really at his best, when he’s facing a bit of pressure.”
And I’d have a tacky mansion
At the teachers’ World Cup, I’d proudly sing the national anthem
I’d listen to the government; teach for anyone who bought me
And I’d never go to poorer schools who could never afford me.
I’d go and teach with Toby Young.
I’d teach at an academy.
I’d whore myself to private schools;
It wouldn’t even sadden me…
But teachers, aren’t like footballers.
So let’s reject that fantasy.
My triumphs and disasters,
Do not come with swollen salaries.
And if they did?
It wouldn’t really even matter be…
…cause teachers aren’t like footballers.
And that’s the way it has to be.
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