Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Strips Box. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements. It had been another awkward and difficult day for me at school and teaching the class I had been allocated this year was positively heart-breaking. There were 9 boys and 6 girls, all of them 18 year old. Every one for them an teacher achiever and apparently not interested in anything I had to teach them. Only government regulations, deed to keep them out of unemployment statistics, had kept them in educational system for so long.
Due to these new rules they had been made to repeat their final year, but, at the end of the current school year they would have to leave. Every one of them would undoubtedly flounder in the tough world of the jobs market. And the bottom line was - they weren't interested. They were, in fact, the left- overs after all vacancies in the other classes had been filled.
I remember the head-teacher gently patting me on the back and asking me to do my best. Meanwhile, because of staffing problems, apart from Science and Art, I'm afraid you have to cover student if not all of their subjects yourself.
I remember groaning at this news. I suppose it was because I had been the last teacher to his staff.
I had got the short straw. And so I tried. Day after day, week after week. Surely, they couldn't be as bad as had been portrayed, I told myself. But, the sad looks and sympathy I got for my lack of progress from the Headmaster and fellow teachers told me otherwise.
It was frustrating and painstaking work every day. I was lucky to be heard, such was the noise and disruption in that classroom.
It was an unending struggle and my pupils and I were going nowhere, achieving nothing. I was at my wits end in trying to get through to them. It was so exhausting and depressing. They were the most unruly and inattentive group of young people I had ever come across since I had started in the teaching profession some 5 years ago. The trouble was that, ly, I had worked in private girls schools in London, where discipline and attitudes were vastly different. But, when my husband was transferred to the West Midlands for work purposes, we had to move there and I had limited choices.
Gltone High Comprehensive was where I had ended up. It was different to London and the South East. In this part of the U. It would have been an exaggeration to say the school was in a deprived area.
But it was getting that way. The school catered for all pupils in the area of secondary school age. Some of them, same age as my lot were doing A levels. But obviously there was a big difference in abilities. Ideally, my target as a teacher was to bring these youngsters up to GCSE standard, so they could leave school with at least some qualifications, but, up to now I was failing miserably, even with a relatively small class like this.
I couldn't think of any one of them succeeding. They would be leaving school with not a single school exam success between them. What chance did they have at obtaining decent employment. As things were going, I was heading for a clean sheet of failure for my efforts. But, I didn't like failure. I had come into the teaching profession to succeed. They looked at me in amused silence. I might as well have been talking in a foreign language.
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All they wanted to do, seemingly, was to quit school and go onto unemployment benefits. Most of them lived in run down areas and were from broken homes etc. In fact, I knew very little about their personal lives. There had to be some real communication between us to do that.
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And so far, there hadn't been any. Talking to colleagues in the staff room, I was warned that my pathetic efforts to make some progress were being monitored by the powers that be. It makes them look good" And, at the very least, I knew that bad reports on my abilities would blight my career. When I went back to the classroom, I was starting to panic. As usual there was mayhem in the room.
If anything, this lot were getting worse. What was I going to do? I had tried everything my teacher training had taught me and was getting nowhere. It was beginning to be a nightmare and I knew that in this case there was no light at the end of the tunnel. One frustrating week later, I got an idea; funnily enough from watching a silly little porn film. My husband liked to watch them every now and again and I had no objection. Anything to brighten up our rather dull sex life, I reasoned.
In one of them, a young and attractive blonde teacher started to strip. Funnily enough, I thought she looked a lot like me. And, of course, she got the immediate attention of the young males in her class. After that, inevitably, she got fucked across her desk by all and sundry. It was to be expected, I suppose. After all it was a porn movie. Normally, I would have gone out of the room or made a coffee but, there was something about her being in a classroom that got through to me.
Unlike other films of that nature, the acting was good, it seemed very realistic.
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I watched it again and again when hubby was out, watching her getting it from the boys. Sometimes, I stripped at the same time she did, and then compared my naked body to hers. I was pleased to see I matched her in all respects, because, I too had long shapely legs, decent size tits and curves in all the right places. Could I do that? Strip in a classroom? I started to seriously think about it.
Then, later, after watching it several more times, I was convinced that it was the perfect answer to my problems at this school: An unconventional and risky solution, yes; but why not? I could challenge the guys in my class to work hard and pass exams on the promise that I would strip for them. It seemed like a really good idea. Of course, I knew that none of them were bright enough to make it, but, and this was the important thing they would at least make an effort to study and learn.
My working life would be tolerable again.
It was the old carrot and stick routine. The carrot being the prospect of seeing my naked body, the stick being the work they would have to do to make it happen. I reckoned it was worth a shot.