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Anne Clarke

Another Story - Teachers in Need...

So this woman here fetched up at the Tech one day in the early 80s to teach a subject she knew damn all about.  Architecture?  Not a clue.  Not only that, but the day-release students in my group all worked in town planning or construction or architects’ offices, so they had a head-start on me and most were around the same age.  I don’t remember much about the syllabus I was given, but I do recall one of the topics was cubism.  I decided there was no point in winging it, so I came clean – sort of.  I didn’t know, and hadn’t been told, why the original, qualified lecturer was no longer available, so I just killed him off.  (Sympathy vote, you see.)  I then went through the syllabus with the students and established who already knew how much about what area.  Suggesting that we learn from each other, allocate specific topics to different people to research and try to get guest speakers in from their places of work, I soon had an enthusiastic and well-motivated group.  We ended up having a ball, had no bother getting volunteer speakers and I spent more time in the body of the class than I did in front of it.  I even ended up with an ardent admirer who handed me a letter at the end of the course, asking that I contact him if my marriage ever hit the rocks.  I could have been doing with that letter further down the road. ☺

The architecture course was a collaborative effort, but I also exploited my students shamelessly in another area, namely Media Studies.  The Tech was just across the road from Radio Foyle and neither organisation had a problem with me ferrying students back and forth to further their skills.  I showed them how to edit – on my material, I taught them how to research – for my programmes, and I encouraged then to come up with ideas for local coverage – which I later used.  Good, eh?

I also taught a couple of young men who were big into pub quizzes and I had cause to call upon their services at one stage.  The BBC had not long started supporting Children in Need and staff were all encouraged to do their bit.  And did so willingly.  When I was asked how I wanted to contribute to the Foyle effort, I airily replied, ‘Put me down for whatever you need.’  And that’s how I ended up on the radio quiz team and why I went running in a panic to my two student quiz whizz kids.  My general knowledge was, and still is, appalling, especially when it comes to geography, so the guys decided to concentrate on capital cities of the world.  They coached and questioned me for hours and hours and hours, mainly in the pub.  Did I get one question on capital cities?  No.  In a pub in Muff, with Anita beside me and Paddy Quiz (Doherty? Has to be….) heading up the opposition, my first question was, ‘What’s measured in hands?’  Bear in mind the fact that my father was a greengrocer, so my confident response was, ‘Bananas’.  Both audience and quiz-master thought I was playing for laughs, so I was allowed another go.  ‘Gloves?’  And by the time this supposed court jester’s final answer was called upon, Anita had hissed, ‘Horses’ in my ear.  And, do you know what, my friends?  We won.  In large part due to the fact that Paddy had over-imbibed and fell asleep in the middle of proceedings.

Another year, another Children in Need event and I was assigned a much more appropriate role – collecting the buckets of money and cheques from those who had  gathered outside Broadcasting House in Belfast.  That was the night a very famous person tore into me and told me to f*** off.  But that’s another story……………………

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