Can you still remember your half-term break? Did you enjoy it? I did, but I’m not sure I would describe it as much of a break.
After seven weeks teaching history in a real classroom, I spent my time off attempting to recreate a fictional classroom, working with actors on a new musical I’ve co-authored called The End of History. Set in a school, it follows a group of disruptive teenagers attempting to get to grips with puberty - and the events of the 20th century.
There are many challenges to recreating a school scene on the stage.
How do you make adolescent dialogue lively but realistic without offending half the audience? How do you depict a lesson without tilting into parody or pastiche - or, even worse, boredom? And, perhaps the most challenging: which of the six stereotypes of stage and film should you choose for the character of the teacher?
The Rebel
Perhaps best personified in pedagogical fiction by Jack Black in the film School of Rock (the musical of which is currently showing in the West End), Richard Griffiths’ Hector in The History Boys and Robin Williams’ Mr Keating in Dead Poets’ Society. Anarchic, passionate and considerably less mature than his adolescent charges, The Rebel is a constant thorn in the side of senior management (and, no doubt, anyone else in the staff room who has had to teach after him period five on a Friday). Although rigorous in his adherence to some of the third Teachers’ Standard (who needs to know anything about the curriculum when you just love your subject so much?) - he has never heard of the other seven.
Of course, The Rebel doesn’t actually exist in real classrooms. Or at least not in the form embodied by Black’s, Griffiths’ and Williams’ characters. Leaving aside the thorny issue of Hector’s openly acknowledged paedophilia, all three are simultaneously wonderful and awful teachers - and wouldn’t last more than a week in a real school, where the genuine rebels have the good sense to keep below the radar (especially, if like Williams’ character, their idea of rebellion is to go back and teach at the private school they attended themselves).
The Slacker
A close relative of The Rebel is “The Slacker”, as popularised by Jack Whitehall’s Alfie Wickers in the BBC’s Bad Education.
Possessing all of The Rebel’s disdain for school rules - but none of his talent - The Slacker would last even less time in the era of pupil voice and parent power (although I would enjoy reading the Ofsted lesson observation of Whitehall’s séance to summon the spirit of Hitler). The best US version of The Slacker is Bradley Cooper’s character in The Hangover, whose parting shot to an enthusiastic pupil (“It’s the weekend. I don’t know you. You do not exist.”) has become a popular internet meme, especially in teachers’ Twitter accounts on the first day of the summer holidays. But just imagine what that boy’s parents are going to do when he gets home and tells them what happened…
The Wide-Eyed Enthusiast
Moving gradually to the more salubrious end of the spectrum, we have “The Wide-Eyed Enthusiast” - think Mr Irwin in The History Boys - who apparently enters teaching to “make a difference” but lacks the talent or the endurance of The Rebel to inspire a class.
Mr Irwin’s enthusiasm for getting the boys into Oxbridge is soon overcome by his cynicism and he sensibly moves into making television documentaries instead. Perhaps the closest corollary here is the Teach First graduate who grimaces their way through the requisite two years in a challenging inner-city school, before entering the warm embrace of the scheme’s corporate sponsors - although I must say that every Teach First graduate I know is still a fairly enthusiastic teacher many years later.
The Nurturer
More effective than The Wide-Eyed Enthusiast is “The Nurturer”, best embodied by Miss Honey in Matilda, which is still packing out the West End in its musical incarnation.
Kind-hearted and emotionally intelligent, she is the primary school teacher every parent (including, ultimately, Matilda’s) would want for their child. Similar nurturing roles are played by Julie Walters’ character in the film of Billy Elliot and Miss Sherman in Fame, although the latter’s love for her students is hidden behind a strict preference for academic success over showbiz.
The Dragon
The opposite of The Nurturer is, of course, “The Dragon”, represented by Matilda’s and Miss Honey’s nemesis, Miss Trunchbull. Tyrannical, corrupt and probably murderous, she is, as Roald Dahl wrote in a sentence that reveals much about the times in which he was writing, “more like an eccentric and rather bloodthirsty follower of the stag-hounds than the headmistress of a nice school for children”. Fortunately, these days The Dragon is more likely to be found in the City - or in jail - than in an educational establishment.
The World-Weary-But-Affectionate Cynic
So, which one did we plump for in our production? Well, the first draft of The End of History attempted to embrace the sixth and final stereotype: “The World-Weary-But-Affectionate Cynic”, as showcased in the 1934 novel, Goodbye, Mr Chips. But here, our hand was forced, as none of the older actors who auditioned for the role were any good. So, we completely rewrote the role for a young, female graduate who goes on (we hope) a realistic journey from enthusiastic naïf to someone who’s been worn down by the profession but is still battling on nobly.
And, if in these dark days of November, anyone is wondering how long it is to the next holiday, her song at the end of Act II is for you: I Can’t Wait For Summer.
The End of History runs from 14 November to 2 December at the Tristan Bates Theatre in Covent Garden, London (020 3841 6611). Get tickets here.
Iain Hollingshead is a history teacher and the writer of The End of History.
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