Tutorials

The course that’s currently keeping me busy is the first one where I haven’t been able to attend any of the tutorials. The reason being the travelling time would be much longer than the tutorial itself. It would involve a bus journey (and the associated waiting time), a train journey (ditto) and a further bus journey (tedious). If I could guarantee no waiting time or delays I think I’d probably go – but making time allowances for every eventuality usually means arriving ridiculously early, because when you make such allowances, invariably everything runs like clockwork. Then, after two hours of tutorial, the reverse journey home. Not really knowing which side the road to stand on to get back to the City. Waiting for my train. Waiting for my bus. We’re talking about being out for at least 8 hours – all for a 2 hour tutorial. Just think what I could achieve in 8 hours in essay writing terms – at least a paragraph.

At this point I suppose I should confess that I own a car, but due to a 25 year gap between passing my test (in a sleepy country place) and driving again (in today’s traffic madness) – I am just too scared. I’m one of the few people who can make £20 worth of petrol last over a year. So driving to the tutorial isn’t an option. Also, I can’t park. I rarely go backwards. A simple trip to the local supermarket has the same effect on me as going on every white knuckle ride at Alton Towers. I’m not really clear about overtaking, although it’s rarely an issue – the only things I tend to catch up are milk-floats and aging vicars going uphill on bikes – and they can make surprisingly abusive hand signals if you accidentally catch their cassocks with your wing-mirror.

So, in missing these tutorials, I do feel I have missed out. I like ‘people watching’ and tutorials are great places to do this. At every tutorial I’ve been to, there is always a ‘Maggie’ – not someone called Maggie – it’s just the first one I encountered reminded me of Mrs Thatcher. They feel compelled to voice all their opinions on every subject, and they are always right, even when they are wrong. It can be particularly tiresome when they disagree with every point made by the tutor, although this can be when it gets interesting. Everyone else can sit back, watch the show, and see who cracks first. As I work in a school I am aware that – unlike when I was at school – the teachers are not so quick to say that an answer is wrong. “That’s a good answer,” they will say, “but have you thought about ...” or, “Not quite – but it was a very good try.” (Yes – it’s a Primary school.) And I have witnessed a similar approach by tutors. And ‘Maggie’ – the first Maggie that is – seemed Hell bent on disagreeing with pretty much everything the tutor said. After a couple of weeks of pussyfooting around, the tutor realised that her “Oh that’s an interesting thought, Maggie… but have you considered…” approach was totally pointless. Maggie was being particularly stubborn over something the tutor had said, and finally the tutor cracked. As Maggie launched into what looked like being a lengthy explanation on why she was right (yet again), the tutor stopped her in her tracks with a “NO”, and a silent cheer in knowing-look form passed between the rest of the students.

Another year, another course, and the ‘Maggie’ was a man who wore the same stripy jumper to every tutorial. I wittily called him ‘Stripy’ (not to his face, obviously – not only am I not that rude, he never shut up long enough for any other students to speak). When the tutor was speaking, 'Stripy' and 'Morticia', the woman who always sat next to him would sit whispering and canoodling. By the end of the course I decided they must have been having an affair. Perhaps going to tutorials was the only way they could get to see each other. I did wonder though why they didn’t just pretend to do the course and use the money they saved to get a hotel room.

A personal favourite of mine was ‘Minty’. Not the mechanic from Eastenders, but a woman who spent an entire day-school crunching her way through a seemingly endless supply of mints. She reminded me of a Thellwell Shetland pony. I lost count eventually, but by lunchtime she was definitely on the eleventh packet. Although these people did get on my nerves, I do sort of miss them, and I wonder - is it only me that gives the other students nick-names, or does everyone do it? If so – I wonder what they call me.