The Todd

Full of such promise, billed as the saviour of the creative writing department, ‘The Todd’, just turned out to be an ungrateful cock. Brought in from Canada, he was their number one poet and number four debating champion, author of a variety of books, he was the only member of the staff that may have been known outside of the Kingston area.
It started well, he endeared himself to all the students when he slowly revealed the levels of his success. Young people are always impressed by name dropping and when someone stands in front of you and lists the TV shows he has written for, the writers he considers personal friends and the places writing has taken him, you sit up and take notice. Even if there is always the underlying knowledge that if he was actually as successful as he made out then he wouldn’t be stood in the classroom of a half rate former polytechnic on the outskirts of London.
He was supportive for several weeks, offering false hope to some and encouraging those who harboured even the slightest degree of talent underneath their statement clothing and personality which is so ‘out there’ it is vomit inducing. He was firm in his belief that nothing was truly unique anymore and this led to a freedom within the student’s imagination.
The Vice Chancellor walked into the classroom, a man in his fifties who looked aggrieved with the existence of the University, he was followed by four other men in suits who looked equally pissed off.
“We have the room booked.” The Vice Chancellor announced to The Todd.
“I am just finishing up then we will be gone, but we do still have ten minutes left so if you all wouldn’t mind waiting outside.” You could tell from the way The Todd replied that he was used kissing up to people in authority. Maybe that was how he debated, charm the opposition until they gave in.
“I don’t care about your silly little lesson. I have a meeting that is due to start at 2pm and it will start at 2pm.” The Vice Chancellor turned and on his exit made a point of not pulling down the handle so the lock clicked to emphasise the importance of the man who had just chosen to shut the door.
Flustered, The Todd turned to the class and told us to back our bags to leave. He had all ready outlined what we had to do for next week so there was no reason to antagonise the powers that be for hanging around for any longer than necessary.
“You can’t stand for that Mr Todd” Cried the Spanish student, who no matter how hard he cried could not write in English.
“Yeah Todd, don’t fucking stand for it” Sarah bellowed from the seat next to me.
“Kick his arse Todd” I added, using all twenty one years of my maturity to find the appropriate comment to make.
Apparently inspired by our defiant words, The Todd strode to the door to confront the Vice Chancellor. I ran after him and pinned my ear to the door, in lieu of a glass to listen through I put my ear to the keyhole.
“There was no need to call my class silly. Do you even know what course I am teaching?” The Todd sounded anxious questioning the powers that be.
“I don’t give a shit what class you teach. It isn’t in a science laboratory so I can’t imagine it is a real lesson anyway.” The scathing comments of the Vice Chancellor wounded The Todd and his voice became shrill.
“I have some amazing writers in that class room. I am a Professor in the English language and I don’t believe you should be so derogatory of the students.”
I had heard enough, The Todd was left to fight our corner while I rallied the troops on the inside. In an instant seven of the nine person class were stood around my desk.
“Mark, Carl, you turn the tables on that side of the room, me and Sarah will do this side and Jos and Juan you do the back. James, you do The Todd’s desk.”
With all the desks turned over, we all looked around the room smugly, as if we had actually achieved something beyond turning a few tables upside down. For us, this was our Vietnam protests. We had failed to stop top up fee’s but by god we can stop a jumped up twat in an ill fitting suit patronising our choice of degrees and indeed the teacher whom we held in such esteem. We put our bags on our shoulders, preparing for the rapturous applause we would get from the tutor who would undoubtedly thank us for our sign of support.
“What the fuck have you done?” The Todd wailed when he returned.
“We were sticking up for you” Jos pleased from the corner.
“I don’t give a shit. I’ve just defended you lot to them fuckers out there and now you’ve done this.”
The handle on the classroom began to turn. Slow motion looks of horror were slapped across all ten faces in the room and each smile sank like a reverse Mexican wave from the door to the back window.
“What is this?” The Vice Chancellor asked, apparently displeased with our method of protest.
“We didn’t like the way you spoke to Todd or what you said about our class. We deserve more respect.” Mark was the only one who could produce a tangible sentence when in a highly stressed situation.
“How can you demand respect when you act like little twats?”
We glanced around, seeing his point entirely but still proud of ourselves for supporting someone we believed in.
“Come on guys, turn the tables around and meet me outside.” There was an element of pleading in The Todd’s voice so we obliged.
We turned the tables and strolled out of the classroom with our heads held high, “Oh Captain my Captain” was mumbled by us all as we passed the Vice Chancellor and repeated with the volume raising each time until we assembled further down the corridor. We stood, waiting for the rapturous thanks from our hero, from the maestro of the written word, from our Todd.
“Who was responsible for that?” The Todd asked.
“Were you pleased? We supported you, thank you for sticking up for us.” James replied.
“I am not fucking pleased. Who was responsible?”
All nine heads shrunk back into the necks that had held them up so proudly only moments previously.
“I want to know who the fuck is responsible.” The Todd’s repetition of the expletive showed that he was no longer messing about and he was definitely not as appreciative as we had hoped or expected.
“I am Todd. It was my idea.” I stepped forward.
I had the least to lose, he didn’t hold me in as high esteem as some of the others but I wasn’t failing so he had no need to mix his words to keep my confidence buoyant. Plus, I did incite the table turning, so in truth I was the guilty party.
“Thank you for your honesty. Unfortunately I have no choice but to discontinue your participation in my class. I will try and arrange a transfer to another course but there are no guarantees so you may have to repeat the semester.”
Nine jaws dropped open and nine gasps echoed through the corridor.
I turned to walk away hoping the dramatic effect would deter The Todd from his current disciplinary task. It didn’t and the next day I received an email from the head of faculty informing me of my now disassociated position within the creative writing course. At the end of the note there was a P.S., it read, ‘I wish a student cared enough about me to do that but next time don’t be an idiot and just verbally express your support after class.’
I got a first in the course I was transferred to and I ignored The Todd on a bus after I graduated.