Early on I invented something called Extreme Marking. It was a hobby I developed where I attempted to give accurate and useful written feedback to my students in environments that were completely detrimental to the production of accurate and useful written feedback. It was totally gnarly.

I praise-sandwiched in emergency rooms, highlighted whilst being lashed with torrential rain ensconced in something someone had the temerity to call a bus ‘shelter’ and went all Dickensian during a blackout using the light of a solitary candle to scribble a few words of encouragement on some prose study coursework.

I pushed the limits, dude. Extreme. EXTRRREEEME!

The joy of reaching the summit rapidly turned to horror as he realised that he had forgotten his special red pen.

What drove me to seek ever-more precarious thrills? To push the limits of fear and endurance? To test myself against the elements and find out how much one can take both physically and mentally? Was it to learn something about myself as I attempted to keep a steady hand as the 53 bus lurched round the estate? Was it because I needed the adrenalin rush of four in the morning corrections knowing I had to set off to work in an hour and a half?

Of course not. I just bloody hated marking so I left it to the last minute which then meant I had to do it in stupid places. Like an idiot.

An extreme idiot.



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