Hello, my name actually is James, no guessing required. I’m a twentysomething psychopath from the smallish island of Great Britain…
We had a few poor teachers, everyone does I think. There was one who was particularly bad, not at his subject I might add; he was very good at woodwork. You have to be good at a technical subject like that to get a job teaching it. No, his problem was classroom management; he was hopeless. If he told you to do something, you just wouldn’t do it. His classes were always chaotic and dangerous (we had saws and big electronic tools at our disposal). I was – am – the opposite of him: good at managing people, bad at woodwork. I was failing my project and had injured a few people in the process due to my general carelessness around the drills and soldering irons.
This hack of a teacher could see how bad I was and I knew he was going to fail me the year, but he had a weakness. Everyone does, you see, but his was a fun one. On top of this general incompetence, he had a nasty temper. When he didn’t get his way in controlling the class he would blow a fuse and have a kind of tantrum. He’d shout a lot, go very red and generally look quite ridiculous. And his body language promised the potential for violence, he just hadn’t yet been pushed enough.
To get rid of him, all I needed to do was to rile him up a bit more. Or rather get the idiots in my class to do it for me.