It was my first week as a fully fledged teacher. Pinned up next to my sixth-form college whiteboard, the neatly coloured timetable told me that the AS literature group were next. They milled around outside the classroom, brimming with nervy start-of-term small talk: how vast the site was compared with the various secondary schools they’d said goodbye to a few months ago; stuttered lists of subject choices. I opened YouTube on my monitor, increased the volume and beckoned the students in.
Twenty bemused kids made their way to their seats as I clicked to the beat at my desk, before rising to my feet to offer a laid-back two-step. I got a quizzical thumbs up; one brave soul testingly called out: “Yeah, funky, sir?” As they peeled out of their box-fresh hoodies, Fela Kuti’s Water No Get Enemy strolled towards its chorus.
