PE Lessons
For some they may have been the highlight of the school week, but all we remember is a never-ending series of punishments involving inappropriate nudity and climbing up ropes until you wet yourself.
Tell us about your PE lessons and the psychotics who taught them.
( , Thu 19 Nov 2009, 17:36)
For some they may have been the highlight of the school week, but all we remember is a never-ending series of punishments involving inappropriate nudity and climbing up ropes until you wet yourself.
Tell us about your PE lessons and the psychotics who taught them.
( , Thu 19 Nov 2009, 17:36)
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On the Road...
To say we weren't the sportiest group of people at our school would be an understatement, but this is a really rather special tale even by our standards.
There were some disused railway lines that backed onto our school (inventively refered as 'The Lines'. Never let it be said that we aren't creative Up North), and it was along these lines that the cross country route went. Or it was if you were part of the 99% of students who took part in such an activity. We were the 1% who bunked off and went for a cigarette and a cup of tea at a friend's house whose garden overlooked the Lines. We'd let our teacher lead the way and then go through the gate, stock up on nicotine and caffeine and rejoin the group when we saw them come back the other way.
Until one day when said friend's mum was off sick and our personal cafe was out of bounds. No other option for it than to go along with the run. Which would have been fine if a) we were vaguely fit and could keep up with the rest of the class and b) we had the fainest idea what the route was.
Sure enough, we soon lose sight of even the straggeliest of stragglers and soon find ourselves wandering through building sites and the like. 4 teenage girls in gym kit asking directions from a bunch of builders do not, we found, get a very sensible response.
Anyway, we bumble around for a while, take advantage of the lack of supervision and settle down for a smoke then think 'hmm, we've probably been a while. We should make our way back'. So we retrace our steps almost back to school. Hurrah, we think. We've gotten away with it. Only to be confronted with a very irate gym teacher. And two mounted policemen. Turns out we'd been gone for the best part of two hours.
Oh, and while I'm at it, said gym teacher also thought it would be a wise idea to encourage one of the sportier types who was training for the discus at an inter-schools sports event with the now immortal phrase 'I'll just stand over here, see if you can get it over my head'. Cue staples in her head for around 6 months.
( , Tue 24 Nov 2009, 21:39, Reply)
To say we weren't the sportiest group of people at our school would be an understatement, but this is a really rather special tale even by our standards.
There were some disused railway lines that backed onto our school (inventively refered as 'The Lines'. Never let it be said that we aren't creative Up North), and it was along these lines that the cross country route went. Or it was if you were part of the 99% of students who took part in such an activity. We were the 1% who bunked off and went for a cigarette and a cup of tea at a friend's house whose garden overlooked the Lines. We'd let our teacher lead the way and then go through the gate, stock up on nicotine and caffeine and rejoin the group when we saw them come back the other way.
Until one day when said friend's mum was off sick and our personal cafe was out of bounds. No other option for it than to go along with the run. Which would have been fine if a) we were vaguely fit and could keep up with the rest of the class and b) we had the fainest idea what the route was.
Sure enough, we soon lose sight of even the straggeliest of stragglers and soon find ourselves wandering through building sites and the like. 4 teenage girls in gym kit asking directions from a bunch of builders do not, we found, get a very sensible response.
Anyway, we bumble around for a while, take advantage of the lack of supervision and settle down for a smoke then think 'hmm, we've probably been a while. We should make our way back'. So we retrace our steps almost back to school. Hurrah, we think. We've gotten away with it. Only to be confronted with a very irate gym teacher. And two mounted policemen. Turns out we'd been gone for the best part of two hours.
Oh, and while I'm at it, said gym teacher also thought it would be a wise idea to encourage one of the sportier types who was training for the discus at an inter-schools sports event with the now immortal phrase 'I'll just stand over here, see if you can get it over my head'. Cue staples in her head for around 6 months.
( , Tue 24 Nov 2009, 21:39, Reply)
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