Challengin' Times
by Roger McKillop
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: None.
Description: Some challengin' times teachin' school-refusers.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Some challengin' times teachin' school-refusers.
Scott an’ I shared a trip tae Glenshee wi’ a challengin’ group o’ school-refusers. We had split the group an’ A wis at the top o’ the hill, when a girl frae Scott’s group came aff the lift. She said Scott had sent her up tae join us, “Cause the ithir boys didni’ want tae dae it ony mair!” Nae problem tae me, A said, “Ok we’re Jist aboot tae ski doon this run.” At once she bristled, “Scott said we’d go doon ower there!” Pointin’ tae a run we’d Jist done. A said, “Look this is a good run, you’ll like it. My group want tae try it.” This was no’ the answer she waanted. “A’m goin’ ower there!” she announced. “A’m sorry, you’re no’ skiin’ by yoursel’!” “A’m goin’ ower there!!!!” A suppose A shouldni’ have risen tae the bait. “Y’re no’ dictatin’ tae the hale group!” The ithir students were startin’ tae moan at her as weel. “Besides those are the College’s skis you hae oan!” said I, deliverin’ whit A thocht wid be the coup de grasse! “Right! Ye can have yer bluidy skis!” said the now furious young lady, kickin’ aff her skis. “An’ ye can hae yer f-in’ boots as weel!” She removed the boots an’ marched aff frae the tap o’ the hill in her socks. We had a Social Work assistant who was assigned tae the group, who started tae flap. “You’ll have to make her put her boots back on!” A looked at her an’ asked if she thought me, “Skiin’ efter her, Rugby tacklin’ her an’ forcin’ the boots back on, against her will, would in ony w’y lessen the confrontation?”
A asked the group tae follow me doon the hill. A had ma sticks, her sticks an’ her skis ower yin shoodir an’ her boots in the ithir han’. A skied level wi’ her as she made her determined descent, her self- righteousness almost meltin’ the snaw as she passed. A kept offerin’ her the boots. Scott looked up frae the bottom o’ the run an’ saw this mystifin’ sicht! A backed aff thinkin’ she wid stop an’ vent her complaints tae him. His jaw dropped as she stormed past him like “A mad wumin!” as he pit it. She walked, fir those wha ken Glenshee, frae the tap o’ Buchart’s Access tae the car park! We followed her down tae the minibus, gave her space tae calm doon. Scott later said tae me, “That’s it, we canny let her dae Ootdoors again!” A looked at him, A’d had them frae the stert o’ the year, an’ said, “Scott it wis her the day, it could be ony o’ them next week!”
A had yin o’ them jist heid back tae the shore at Loch Lomond because he “Couldni’ be bothered daein’ it any mair!” He wis at the back o’ the group an’ Jist left, A had tae look efter the rest o’ the group. When we were aw’ safely back on shore A explained tae him that, “Gin he’d capsized, an’ got stuck in his boat, A couldni’ have got tae him afore he wid have drooned!” A have tae say that this seemed tae strike a chord wi’ him ‘cause he gave me nae mair trouble.
Then there wis the incident in the “Caves” at Succoth, near Arrochar. They are not really caves but massive rock slabs leavin’ easily explorable spaces. We were in the middle o’ the complex when, wi’ me climbin’ a chimney, yin o’ the boys has an’ argument wi’ twa o’ the lassies, took the huff an’ buggers aff! Whit dae ye dae, a carefully climbed doon, asked the others tae sit an’ looked bit couldni’ see him. A led the rest tae safety, did anithir explore fir him, then we walked back tae the minibus, tae find him there smokin’ a fag! Give me bluidy strength! It’s events like this when ithir lecturin’ staff remark, how nice it must be tae get paid fir haein’ a wee jaunt oot in the country, that they get a rather harsher answer than they expected!
A think fir quite a few o’ these kids we did mak’ a difference. Fir yin thin’ they were actually comin’ tae College, which wis a success in itsel’! Yin day though A had an insight tae the kids behaviour. We were bikin’ near Callander, when the group had tae cross a cattle grid. A stopped the group an’ briefed them tae slow at a moderate pace, allowin’ lots’ o’ room atween bikes an’ tae make sure that they kept their wheels straight, at right angles tar the grid. The first boys tae cross were told tae stop an’ wait jist efter the grid. They insteed buggered aff, at pace along the road! A asked ma assistant leader tae look efter the rest o’ the group while A shot aff efter them. They didni’ expect the “Auld bugger” tae be able tae catch them! They kept lookin’ back an’ grinnin’ as A slowly caught up wi’ them. When A eventually got them, A wis less than polite an’, A suppose, unprofessional in ma address tae them.
When we got back tae the group, they complained bitterly tae ma assistant. She said that she wid hae a wurd wi’ me aboot it. This she did an’ explained that this was the type o’ treatment they were used tae, adults shoutin’ an’ bein’, in their eyes, abusive tae them. A had jist made masel’ yin o’ the same. This struck a chord wi’ me. A apologised tae them in front o’ the group. This formed the basis o’ a new relationship atween us an’ they admitted, un-pressed, that they knew they were also in the wrang. It aw’ comes doon tae the auld sayin’ “Nivir criticise onybudy afore ye hae walked a mile in their shin!”
There wis a lot o’ resources given tae these kids, an’ that wis guid. A Jist wish that some local authority had run a parallel scheme, offerin’ aw’ these activities tae pupils, nominated by their schools fir Jist “bein’ nice kids!” You never ken it could have sterted a trend whaur bein’ keen an’ nice is COOL!
A’ll feenish oan – at the stert, onywy’ – a wee bit o’ a “Victor Meldrew” moment, bit it aw’ works oot in the end.
A asked the group tae follow me doon the hill. A had ma sticks, her sticks an’ her skis ower yin shoodir an’ her boots in the ithir han’. A skied level wi’ her as she made her determined descent, her self- righteousness almost meltin’ the snaw as she passed. A kept offerin’ her the boots. Scott looked up frae the bottom o’ the run an’ saw this mystifin’ sicht! A backed aff thinkin’ she wid stop an’ vent her complaints tae him. His jaw dropped as she stormed past him like “A mad wumin!” as he pit it. She walked, fir those wha ken Glenshee, frae the tap o’ Buchart’s Access tae the car park! We followed her down tae the minibus, gave her space tae calm doon. Scott later said tae me, “That’s it, we canny let her dae Ootdoors again!” A looked at him, A’d had them frae the stert o’ the year, an’ said, “Scott it wis her the day, it could be ony o’ them next week!”
A had yin o’ them jist heid back tae the shore at Loch Lomond because he “Couldni’ be bothered daein’ it any mair!” He wis at the back o’ the group an’ Jist left, A had tae look efter the rest o’ the group. When we were aw’ safely back on shore A explained tae him that, “Gin he’d capsized, an’ got stuck in his boat, A couldni’ have got tae him afore he wid have drooned!” A have tae say that this seemed tae strike a chord wi’ him ‘cause he gave me nae mair trouble.
Then there wis the incident in the “Caves” at Succoth, near Arrochar. They are not really caves but massive rock slabs leavin’ easily explorable spaces. We were in the middle o’ the complex when, wi’ me climbin’ a chimney, yin o’ the boys has an’ argument wi’ twa o’ the lassies, took the huff an’ buggers aff! Whit dae ye dae, a carefully climbed doon, asked the others tae sit an’ looked bit couldni’ see him. A led the rest tae safety, did anithir explore fir him, then we walked back tae the minibus, tae find him there smokin’ a fag! Give me bluidy strength! It’s events like this when ithir lecturin’ staff remark, how nice it must be tae get paid fir haein’ a wee jaunt oot in the country, that they get a rather harsher answer than they expected!
A think fir quite a few o’ these kids we did mak’ a difference. Fir yin thin’ they were actually comin’ tae College, which wis a success in itsel’! Yin day though A had an insight tae the kids behaviour. We were bikin’ near Callander, when the group had tae cross a cattle grid. A stopped the group an’ briefed them tae slow at a moderate pace, allowin’ lots’ o’ room atween bikes an’ tae make sure that they kept their wheels straight, at right angles tar the grid. The first boys tae cross were told tae stop an’ wait jist efter the grid. They insteed buggered aff, at pace along the road! A asked ma assistant leader tae look efter the rest o’ the group while A shot aff efter them. They didni’ expect the “Auld bugger” tae be able tae catch them! They kept lookin’ back an’ grinnin’ as A slowly caught up wi’ them. When A eventually got them, A wis less than polite an’, A suppose, unprofessional in ma address tae them.
When we got back tae the group, they complained bitterly tae ma assistant. She said that she wid hae a wurd wi’ me aboot it. This she did an’ explained that this was the type o’ treatment they were used tae, adults shoutin’ an’ bein’, in their eyes, abusive tae them. A had jist made masel’ yin o’ the same. This struck a chord wi’ me. A apologised tae them in front o’ the group. This formed the basis o’ a new relationship atween us an’ they admitted, un-pressed, that they knew they were also in the wrang. It aw’ comes doon tae the auld sayin’ “Nivir criticise onybudy afore ye hae walked a mile in their shin!”
There wis a lot o’ resources given tae these kids, an’ that wis guid. A Jist wish that some local authority had run a parallel scheme, offerin’ aw’ these activities tae pupils, nominated by their schools fir Jist “bein’ nice kids!” You never ken it could have sterted a trend whaur bein’ keen an’ nice is COOL!
A’ll feenish oan – at the stert, onywy’ – a wee bit o’ a “Victor Meldrew” moment, bit it aw’ works oot in the end.
The “That’s Crap” Rap
Welcome tae E.V.I.P., negitively drip, drip,
See me fa’ an’ trip, ower ma, poutin’ lip.
Just ‘cause your sayin’ it, we’re no’ daein’ it!
Oor way, we’re haein’ it, or we’re no’ playin’ it!
Bikin’s ower tierin! Nae matter whit you’re hirin’!
We’re no’ aspirin’, o’ nothin’, we’re admiring’!
If things dinni go oor way, nae matter how guid the day,
No’ listenin’ tae whit you say, we’re no’ goony play!
We’re the “Solo kayakers”, the “Caves”, “no’ come backers”.
The “bootless Glenshee walkers”. The thankless, selfish, talkers.
Bikerin’, boorish bantams, we’ll throw oor tantrums,
The boys against the lassies, we can’t agree in classes.
Dinni try tae teach us, education willni’ reach us.
We’re no’ daein’ it, we’re no’ playin’ it,
Nae sense in sayin’ it, ‘cause we’re no’ haein’ it!
Di’yi’ ken whit it’s like in school? Whaur idiots an’ numpties rule!
Popular if you’re a fool, an’ keenness shows, lack o’ cool!
We keep oor heids bowed, just stay in the crowd,
Nothin’ in which we’re proud, spirits been crushed an’ cowed!
So whit’s the use o’ tryin’? O’ better life, your liein’!
Though we’re swearin’ an’ sighin’, in oor he’rts, we’re cryin’!
But dinn’ tell us whit tae dae, or teach us how tae play,
Don’t put us tae the test, we’re young an’ we ken best!
We’re the way we want tae be, hard men, the world can see!
Though life is crappy, just leave us, we’re happy!
So College can go tae hell, we’ll just deceive oorsel’!
Or is there a better life? Away frae this stress an’ strife?
‘Cause fun, we’re no’ haein’ it! The Game we’re no’ playin’ it!
Is the way, how your sayin’ it? Is it better, when we’re daein’ it?
“Your alive, young an’ free, so be whit you can be!
But first you’ll hae tae see, the world’s no’ aw’ just “Me!”
Life is a twisted dance, for God’s sake take your chance,
Your skills, you must enhance, tae allow you tae advance.
You ken you’ve been a pest, but if now you dae your best,
Put your sel’ tae the test, you might just be impressed!
So welcome back tae E.V.I.P. let’s run a tight ship,
Don’t let your standards slip, an’ mak’ life a happy trip!”
Ok, we’re daein’it! We’ll listen while your sayin’ it!
That’s the way we’re haein’ it, a better game, we’re playin’ it!
Welcome tae E.V.I.P., negitively drip, drip,
See me fa’ an’ trip, ower ma, poutin’ lip.
Just ‘cause your sayin’ it, we’re no’ daein’ it!
Oor way, we’re haein’ it, or we’re no’ playin’ it!
Bikin’s ower tierin! Nae matter whit you’re hirin’!
We’re no’ aspirin’, o’ nothin’, we’re admiring’!
If things dinni go oor way, nae matter how guid the day,
No’ listenin’ tae whit you say, we’re no’ goony play!
We’re the “Solo kayakers”, the “Caves”, “no’ come backers”.
The “bootless Glenshee walkers”. The thankless, selfish, talkers.
Bikerin’, boorish bantams, we’ll throw oor tantrums,
The boys against the lassies, we can’t agree in classes.
Dinni try tae teach us, education willni’ reach us.
We’re no’ daein’ it, we’re no’ playin’ it,
Nae sense in sayin’ it, ‘cause we’re no’ haein’ it!
Di’yi’ ken whit it’s like in school? Whaur idiots an’ numpties rule!
Popular if you’re a fool, an’ keenness shows, lack o’ cool!
We keep oor heids bowed, just stay in the crowd,
Nothin’ in which we’re proud, spirits been crushed an’ cowed!
So whit’s the use o’ tryin’? O’ better life, your liein’!
Though we’re swearin’ an’ sighin’, in oor he’rts, we’re cryin’!
But dinn’ tell us whit tae dae, or teach us how tae play,
Don’t put us tae the test, we’re young an’ we ken best!
We’re the way we want tae be, hard men, the world can see!
Though life is crappy, just leave us, we’re happy!
So College can go tae hell, we’ll just deceive oorsel’!
Or is there a better life? Away frae this stress an’ strife?
‘Cause fun, we’re no’ haein’ it! The Game we’re no’ playin’ it!
Is the way, how your sayin’ it? Is it better, when we’re daein’ it?
“Your alive, young an’ free, so be whit you can be!
But first you’ll hae tae see, the world’s no’ aw’ just “Me!”
Life is a twisted dance, for God’s sake take your chance,
Your skills, you must enhance, tae allow you tae advance.
You ken you’ve been a pest, but if now you dae your best,
Put your sel’ tae the test, you might just be impressed!
So welcome back tae E.V.I.P. let’s run a tight ship,
Don’t let your standards slip, an’ mak’ life a happy trip!”
Ok, we’re daein’it! We’ll listen while your sayin’ it!
That’s the way we’re haein’ it, a better game, we’re playin’ it!
About the Author
Edinburgh-born Roger McKillop is a retired Sports Studies lecturer. He has been writing poetry in Scots for many years and has had his work published in The Scots Magazine. His pen name is Roger Ceann Maol Beag, which means Wee Roger with the Bald Head!