Unquotable Quotes: Teachers - Xxi
Unquotable quotes: Teachers – XXI
The pupil, the ***** and the walnut tree, the more the teacher beats them, the better they be.
In the old days, teachers were born to the métier like poets; today softwares do the teaching for them.
A teacher a day makes the parent all gay and given to play.
There’s nothing one teaches that cannot be learned by oneself on his own; aren’t the best teachers self-taught?
Every girl remembers well the arm-pit odours of teachers forced to lean over them in their over-zealousness in imparting knowledge.
Do you wonder why the French call teachers a “sale race” (a dirty damned race) by parents? Is it because they wield such ultimate authority over their progeny, and their opinion of those in their charge never equals that of the parents?
A teacher’s myopia is his pupils never-relenting phobia.
Mimicry as an art owes its charms to teachers, for which teacher’s mannerisms have not been the subject of imitation by his pupils?
A teacher who really tries to teach, that is, who takes himself and his subject seriously, is always trying to convince himself he can teach.
Pupils love teachers who suffer from a bladder problem – in spite of their disappearance from class every so often.
Pupils always remember the ticks, swear words and expressions and idiosyncracies of their teachers more than those of their parents, for parents are always grateful to see their children off during the better part of the day.
The wise teacher waits until his favourite pupil finishes school before he proposes marriage.
The teachers one remembers the most are the ones who dish out more than the marks we deserve in our exam papers; yet the teachers one never forgets are the ones who shamed us in front of the rest of the class.
Oddly enough, a teacher’s favourite never really makes it in life. He or she can never figure out why his peers and elders overlook him or her in their choice of a pretender to a higher post.
Most teachers at the school-leaving stage teach subjects they hardly knew much about the previous day or two.
A teacher who accidentally or not farts in class is remembered for life, probably due to his penchant for pungent cuisine, the cause probably also why pupils raise such a din during the immediate recess.
A teacher who punishes an innocent pupil for the noise/ruckus his class raises makes an enemy out of him for life; the victim’s dreams then on take on the dimensions of a nineteenth century Gothic novel with the teacher on the operating table.
Why is it that a teacher who makes his class repeat after him always gets called all sorts of names under breath?
A teacher not prone to failing his pupils stays popular all through school but earns opprobation thereafter.
A pupil who asks the teacher an awkward question which puts him in a spot is likely to find himself the object of incessant interrogation from then on.
Teachers always bring home the germs of their pupils in exchange for those their children bring home from other teachers.
A most conscientious teacher is one who volunteers to stay back in class to supervise the homework of pupils who are bound to become fashion models.
A teacher who does not know or who has forgotten the answer to some question never fails to put the question over and over again to his class until some pupil by chance gives the correct or false answer.
Everybody knows the greatest teacher is Life itself – not the parent nor the school-teacher but that which delivers the hardest knocks and setbacks.
Teach a donkey to trot and he’ll make an ass of you.
Teach not a dog how not to bark.
Never teach anyone the art of writing: you might deprive him of the enormous pleasure of discovering original writing for himself, and you risk multiplying the host of lack-luster imitators and plagiarists – not vibrant creators.
The truly original teachers teach by example without wanting to: the Shakespeares, the Jonathan Swifts, Euripides, Aristophanes, the Dantes, Lady Murasaki, Cervantes, Ilango Adigal, Liu Wu-ki, Lao Tse, etc., etc.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016
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