For children who were spared the New-age horrors of a 'progressive' or 'modern learning' environment at school, the Christian names of teachers were shrouded in taboo and mystery, and their discovery led to the instant humanisition of the teacher, leading to weakness and misery.
One teacher to succumb was a Mrs Judith Clarke. After almost a year of listening to 'Hey Jude, don't make it bad...', we soon evolved into 'Hey Jude begin' (at the start of the class - clever), 'Hey Jude, don't be a gay' (I'm not saying we were funny, just persistent) 'remember to let her under your foreskin', and most poignantly, 'Hey Jude, don't have a spazz'.
Unfortunately one day she did just that, throwing all the books off her desk, and shedding bitter tears, she upped and left to a fanfare of 'naa na na na-na na-na, na-na na-na, hey Judy Judy Jude' still ringing in her ears.
A hard fought victory.

Our maths teacher, Mr Harvey, was a fearsome old man. Swift temper, sharp tongue and a speciality line in derogatory and tiresome punnishments for 'imudent young wretches'- wo betide the boy who didn't follow his strict rules.

Alas, all his hard work of earning this feared and respected status was shattered when the dippy new Maths teacher, one lesson, asked to borrow something. Her request was met with courtesy, and the item required was duely lent. Then, as carefree as she walked out of the room, she uttered the immortal words: 'Thanks Robin.'
This tyrant of a man was called Robin! Year11s, as we were, needed no more excuse, the class duely upped and left in a fit of laughter, watching Robin trying to regain some sembelance of control.

Nevertheless, Robin struggled on, but finally 'retired' at the end of the Year, his reputation in tatters.
God bless you Miss Chivers!

a particularly 'fried' man, Richard "Dick" Fryer. Hung around by the door with wire mesh and glass panels twitching and pulling his ginger hair and beard and looking at his waych until the bell went. Had a poster on the wall saying "Drogen, nein dank" (a german form of Just Say No). I learnt to say "Drogen, ya bitter" in two years AND witness him crack up before me. By writing "Dick is a w***ker" on the board just before he entered the room we managed to make him scream and cry and run off home and hide until the police had to look for him three days later, although he did come back to teaching. I wonder if there was more to it than just that though?

i am one of many, many, many people who will claim to have had a mister head as a teacher. and guess what. his first name was richard.
the less interesting part is that he was a balding pe teacher who thought better of continuing with the "profession" when some snotty brats found out through the (fit-in-an-all-boys-school-but-looking-back-a-bit-of-a-bearded-troll-but-still-good-enough-for-a-sly-tug))lab assistant whom he'd been nobbing that he had a constellation of three moles on his penis which apparently looked like eyes and a nose. if you are too thick to realise the significance; richard can be shortened to dick. and he apparently had a kind of head on his dick. well at least my punctuation was accurate.

My fourth year English teacher, already cursed with the name Mr Gay, did himself no favours by telling a persistent classmate that his first names were "Moby Windmill". No class thereafter began without 30 minutes of disorder while half of us shouted "Moby Moby MOBES!" at him. On one occasion, Hayley Lemel even threw chicken wings over his head. Don't know why.