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As any fule kno, teeching is easy. Rite?
I used to complane and mone alot when I was at skool, but that was yeers & yeers ago. B-sides, the beaks were not 2 bad, U got to figger out there weak spots and in eny event U could try 2 blame it all on Lippiscomb Snr and his amazing preforming rat (whatever 'it' was). The beaks were all ex-swots who got bitter & twisted from years of being on the receeving end of us boyz and U can hardly blame some of them for getting violent, especially after the time Milburn put superglue in Mister Grine's inkwell, or like when we scarificed the Head Beak's Yorkshire Terrior to Dread Cthulhu in the skool chappel.
But thats' all in the past, like Mrs Marple's custard and the morning caning seshun. I gradiented years ago and became an Authority in the Computer bizniss. The work is easier than Grines algebra, and U dont wurry about being beeten (WHACK WHACK WHACK) as long as U stay away from Swiss copmuter scientists with Weird Names (WIRTH WIRTH WIRTH). Plus, their are good toys 2 play with, and good tricks U can play on them, like taking the DASD for a walk, puting all the luser's alt.sex binarys in the bit buket, and leaving plastic flies in the web swerver to scare Miss Shortcake (SCREAM!!!!!!).
N-E-Way, I woz going about my lawful bizniss last Thursday when I got a fone call from my frends at The Teaching Company (TM). "Molesworth," they sed, "we have a problem. Can U teech?"
"Hoo, me? TEECH?"
"Yes, U. Can U teech?"
(Scritch scritch.)
They woz insistent. "We are runing a corse down in Cambridge next week and we want U to teech it," they sed. "Nobody else can do it."
"Wot?" said I: "U mean I'll be a beak?"
"Yes," they sed. "We'll PAY you."
(I cud feel my nose growing alredy.)
"Reel money?" I sed hopefuly.
"Yes," they sed. "Pleeze teech for us?"
"O all rite then," I replyed. "Do I get to CANE N-E-Body?" (WHACK WHACK WHACK!) "Like when I woz back in Class 3F at St. Vitus' Academy For The Criminally Retarded and they beet us all sowndly?"
"Its not that kind of teeching," they sed. "U will be lechering reel skollars about The Web. In return they will give us money, wich we will use to pay you. If you beet them they will be angry. No more money. We will be angry too."
"Damn," I sed, reigning myself to leave my favorite tawse at home. "OK, I will teech them abowt the Web if U like."
"Wun other thing, Molesworth," they sed freateningly.
"Wozzat?" I asked.
"Were a suit. We kno ALL about U and U're sense of stile!"
(Oh S***! Rumbled agen!)
Click.
I looked at the telefone in dismay. "Wot, me, a beak?" I asked.
You beter beleeve it.
* * *
I flew down to Cambridge on Sunday, on a real airyplane with two jet engines at the back. (MRRRROOOOWWWW!!! ZOOOM!!!! DACKA-DACKA-DACKA- BOOM!!!) Unfortunatly it had no guns or bombs, but thats OK as I wasnt ment to shoot anybody, just teech them Perl (which is worse than beeing shot).
My frends wot wanted me to be a Beak had boked me into a Hotel for three nites. This was sensible as I do not fink I could have survived three nites lose in Cambridge without strangling a cyclist in there own bike chane, a student in there skarf, or a copmuter nerd in there own magnetic tape. Cambridge is Not A Gude Place to Live Ruff on the street. Lukily I was boked into the Helen Hotel and my frends at The Teaching Company (TM) had told Gino to take care of me. Gino is a nice man, not like a Beak at all, but U wud not kno it to look at him. He is short and Italyian and smiles a lot and keeps a big colection of Violins B-hind the bar in his Hotel. (We kno what that meens; weve seen The Grandfather too, U kno!) I think he is a retired Don; their are a lot of Dons in Cambridge (just not all of them are Italian).
On Munday Gino wake me up and prod me out of bed wiv a pich-fork and into a taxi wot was wateing. "Take him to PIPEX," sed Gino, in a voice of thunder (BOOM!!! RATTLE!!!! SMASH!!!!).
I got to PIPEX and went inside. I was glad I had bort my suit coz everywun else was wereing one even thort mine was a bit small (I last wore it wen I was at skool and the legs R 2 short and I dint kno what 2 do with the cap, wot grown-ups dont were). "Were do I go?" I axed the smiling wuman on reseption. She slimed at me and sed, "to trayning, Molesworth. Let me show U the way." (In case U woz wundering, PIPEX is called that coz it is made of pipes. I kno this coz when I went to the loo somewun had puled off a BIG BIG BIG chunk of the wall and behind it their were lots of pipes. Stands to reason, dunnit?)
I went in2 the classroom and B-gan to chek that all the softwear I had orderd was on the copmuters. It wasnt. So I had 2 install web swervers and SQL databasses on ten copmuters in the 1 hour B4 the class arived. (CURSE SPIT MURDER DACKA-DACKA-DACKA-FOOM!!!) But I got it dun and then the stoodntz came in.
There woz ten of them. An ole guy who looked like a Beak wot had buked every corse PIPEX ran; some programmers; a cuple of Trolls from the dungeon under PIPEX where they keep The Fat Pipe to the Innernet, and some1 from a cumpany wot sell copmuters who want 2 lern how 2 sell web swervers.
"LISSEN UP!!!!" I showt, hitting my monitor with my cane (THWACK!!!).
"U R hear to lern about WEB SWERVERS an' PERL. An' we R goin to show U how to RUN a WEB SWERVER on EUNUCHS!!!" (THWACK!!!! BEEP-SQUEAL!!)
To increese the fear I borowed a Gown and Mortarboard from the Head PIPEX Beak outside, so I looked like a Reel Teechur. (Scary thort, wot?)
The ole guy raze his hand. "Teecher?" he say.
"YES???!?!???" I showt, glaring at him. (I deside I like teeching.)
"I dint kno this woz going 2 be about eunuchs. Can I be eckscused?" he say.
I am about to shriek NO!!NO!!NO!!YOUHORRIBLELITTLEBOYBENDOVER and give him Six Of The Best when I remember wot the nice pipple at The Teaching Company (TM) said about money. And I reelize that if I hit him may-B they wont let me be a teecher agin. So I smyle at him insted and say: "certanely sir, I am sory if their has been a mistache, can we arange for U 2 do anover corse?"
And thatz 1 down 9 to go.
The rest of the day pass uneventfuly. I teech them about Apache (WHOOP! WHOOP! PALEFACE THINKS UMS CAN RUN UM WEB SWERVER!! WHOOP! WHOOP! SCALP UP PALEFACE WEBMASTER THEN MAKE WAR DANCE!!!), then about Security (DACKA DACKA DACKA FOOM!!!! MEEEEOOOW!!! ZOOOM!!!! BRAA-A-A-A-TTTTT!!!!) and serch engins. In the evning I go 2 a pub with Norman the Head Beak from The Teaching Company (TM) and we drink bere until we fal ovr.
Day too dorns brite and erly and I get a taxi to PIPEX. I serch the stoodntz as they come in the door but I dont find any catapults or gobstoppers or N.E. dead mice or whoopee cushins in there pockets. (Honestly I dont kno wot the wurld is coming to! Non of them is in uniform, the teecher isnt alowed to WHIP them for torking or axing questuns out of turn, an then none of them is carrieing a gun/noose/- bomb/electric chair for the Beak!!! This is boring!!!!!!!) I take the stoodntz and tie them down then talk Perl at them. Wen they stop groaning I lecher them about CGI. I dont need a cane to make them feel bad! I like this. Ecksept that the lecher notes wer prepared by anuther beak wot is confuzed and sumtimes they dont make sens. And they is in MicroSoft PowerPoint (a contradikshun in semesters, that name, I fink) which sucks grate big attack-traned hamsters coz it is a Microsoft fing. I dont like Microsoft becoz they sell softwear (and underwear) 2 most pipul and every-1 kno that most pipul are stupid. (Aksherly I can B-gin to fantasize about Microsoft Underwear for Feorag, but this is an odd thort and it make my head hurt more than duble-indirect references in Perl so I stop finking it.)
On Day 3 I am ment to lecher the stoodntz about DataBasses, but I dont kno anyfing about DataBasses X-cept how to instorl them. Luckly my frends from The Teaching Company (TM) send Bob, wot is a DataBass Swot and an Oracle (a kind of Guru) who kno SQL and over wierd things. Bobtells them how 2 do horrid things 2 an adress liszt, and I show them how 2 do that on a web swerver. The PIPEX trolls R not paying attenshun, they are hacking on a spider I gave them and I make there Is glaze over by whispering about lexical and dynamically scoped variables and hash references wen they ax me a silly questun. Wich serve them rite. (BWAHAHA!!! NOBODY ASK MOLESWORTH THE BEAK SILLY QUESTUNS AN GETS AWAY WITH IT!!!!)
N-E-way, it is 4 oclock and I must fly. The fing is, my frends at The Teaching Company (TM) buked me on 2 a flite at 7 oclock from Stansted, but it taches 2 hours to get their and check in. On my way in-2 the departur lownge I meet Gerry, the Beak wot rote the corse I bin teeching. Gerry and I tork for a bit. "I woz disapointed," I sed. "I wasnt alowed to thrash any-1, and nobode tryed to kill me back 4 it."
Gerry looked @ me. "Molesworth," he say, "I fink U have a problem. Hav U ever teeched B-4?"
"No," I say inosently. "Shud I have?"
Gerry go very quite and pale. "I fink thats my plain," he say, pointing at a B-52 bommer tanking up on the apron, en root to Irack with a cargo of crooze missles. "See U in Edinburgh!" he say and run away.
I fly home scraching my head. This teeching job is not wot I eckspected.
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