Confessions of a teacher: Because school isn't quite what you remember it to be... (10 page)

- "As you may have noticed, members of the SMT have been standing at all the entrances of the school to check uniforms in the morning. One of the issue I want to tackle in the school is late arrivals. To that effect, I am planning to introduce a system that will automatically lock the door at 8h55, thus re-directing late comers to the front entrance where they can be collected and taken to a detention centre."

The low murmur from the staff says it all and lea looks at me, one of her eyebrows suspended in mid-air in a look of shocked astonishment. She has written 'detention centre' on her piece of paper and is underlining it furiously to draw my attention to it. Now at least, we have the measure of the guy. Never before has the KGB been more aptly nicknamed. Following the meeting, we all gather in individual departments. We've been kindly issued with a written copy of the RIF which we painstakingly attempt to decipher. Not an easy task if we consider the following points:

• All LAAC young people should be assessed formally for a CSP.
  

• Need for a whole school approach to M/T.
  

• S.I.P focused on Curriculum for Excellence but would benefit from a clearer strategic overview.
  

We eventually have to give up as we all scatter to various pointless meetings. I meet Dora in between two of those meetings.

- "Any news?" I ask her tentatively.

- "No. I think I should just accept that we're just good friends."

That would be wise I think to myself but I can see in Dora's eyes that, deep down, she's still holding on for more than friendship.

- "What do you think of this detention centre idea?" she asks.

- "To be perfectly honest, this is the most ludicrous and insane idea I've ever heard."

- "I know" she replies, then chuckle to herself, "do you think that if teachers arrive late they'll be punished by having to man the detention centre?"

- "Now, that's an idea Dora. I think you should put it to him and earn yourself some brownie points."

- "I don't think I'll bother" she laughs.

At last the day draws to an end and all I can think about is the long weekend ahead and my chance to regain some sanity and a firm hold on the real world.

Always watch your back.

Many people are of the opinion that teachers' holidays are ridiculously long and far too many. I have, over the years, refused to engage in that conversation with non-teachers. The truth is, I would dare anyone who entertains such thoughts to spend one day in a classroom. Then, may be, will I reconsider discussing the length of holidays with them. The long weekend which has just flown by has merely given me the opportunity to feel somewhat human again, if only for a brief moment before being assailed by more madness. The chimps are first to engage me in their own insanity and, in that, they never fail. Perhaps part of it is also of my own making for occasionally making the rash and irrational decision to play on their competitiveness. Today is just one such time when, for some reason, I start the day with a renewed surge of hope and energy, thinking that all is not lost and maybe, just maybe, there is a way to impart some knowledge on the Chimps. With only a few weeks before their exam and a disproportionate gap in their knowledge, we spend time revising basic vocabulary which culminates in teams competing against each other for who gets the most words correct. There is of course the usual bribe (sorry, I meant reward) in the form of sweeties and bars of chocolate distributed to the winning teams. To a cold observer, the competition/reward side of things may look absolutely chaotic as the kids would do anything to win, including jumping about in excitement, shouting out wrong answers to lure the other teams and ensure the victory of their own complete with cries of frustration when they can't recall a word. I don't even dare to mention the award ceremony which is kept to the last remaining minutes so as to limit pandemonium. We are currently at the crucial moment where the teams have to add up their points for the winner to be declared. This by itself would seem a straightforward operation were it not for their desire to win which would have them commit murder if they had to coupled with their inherent inability to add up. All winning scores are obviously checked by me. Louis is standing up shouting excitedly "we've won! we've won! 125 points!". I feel compelled to ask Louis how his team managed to accumulate so many points considering that there was only twenty questions with a maximum of two points each, but my turn of phrase is far too much like solving a difficult mathematical enigma. He looks at me and says: "uh?". "It means, Louis that even if you had all the answers correct, you couldn't get any more than forty points!". Louis and his deflated team return to the drawing board. Unfortunately for once, my remark hasn't fallen on deaf ears. Jonathan is up in arms shouting: "yes! Yes! We've got it! Forty points! That's what we've got, forty points!". Callum is very quick to retort: "No you haven't! No way! You got at least two wrong. We've got forty points!". But Jonathan isn't going to let things rest: "You never had all of them right and you would have had a lot more wrong if you hadn't sent your spy to copy us!". Callum is now on the offensive: "You're the ones who sent Declan to copy us first because you know we're far better than you with this French rubbish!". I can sense that I have to diffuse the situation quite quickly and announces, at the same time as being busily searching my bag for the sweets, that it looks like there are several winners and the final decision will rest with me. Still searching the depth of my school bag, I suddenly become aware that a sudden silence and stiffness has descended upon the group. I look up and see all the kids sitting quietly in their seats, throwing me looks of warning. If they could speak, it would be like being at a pantomime: "Behind you! Behind you!". Behind me stands the new headmaster, bald head shining more than usual, accusatory eyes going from me to the class and back to me. "Miss Salomon.", he starts sternly, "I've come to see how the fourth years are doing so close to their exams and examine the learning that takes place". If I read between the lines, I hear loud and clear: "This is a shamble! They're not learning anything!". A million explanations rush through my head. I feel like saying to him: "Why did you have to come in today of all days? Had you come any other time you would have seen them sitting at their desk, writing stuff silently (okay, that may be pushing it a bit with this lot), or reading or doing normal exercises. Of course, this is French. It's not one of these subjects you can teach by placing an exercise book in front of them". Reasons, I have many but none of them are forthcoming in view of the precarious situation I find myself in. Luckily, the kids come to my rescue. I have always found surprising how they can be your biggest enemy most of the time but rally round you when you, as their teacher, are under attack. In the face of adversity, they'll invariably choose your camp. Jonathan the hummer puts his hand up. The headmaster looks at him quizzically before allowing him to speak. Full of the importance of his declaration, Jonathan stands up and clears his throat in the manner of an orator about to deliver the most powerful speech of his entire career. "I'd like to say, I think it's really good the way miss Salomon. makes us do games like this. It makes learning a lot more fun and we can remember a lot of French words now. I just wanted to say that". Jonathan sits back down and the headmaster nods quietly, even though I can see he's not fully convinced by Jonathan's argument. I'm just relieved he doesn't know enough French to put the theory to the test. "Well thank you miss Salomon., that was most enlightening" he declares upon leaving the room. Well, he can think what he wants. Today, the Chimps have done me proud in their very own peculiar way. Because of that, I declare them all winners and they can have two sweeties each as they leave the room. I even toy with the idea of revealing to Jonathan, who is a well versed late comer, that he just challenged the man who is planning to put him in a detention centre but maybe this is another battle to be fought later.

The SMT (Senior Management Team and aka KGB) has lost its shimmer since the new Head appeared on the scene. There's certainly not much of a T for team remaining and, increasingly, decisions are taken at the top without bothering too much about letting the relevant parties know what's going on. The KGB is now divided between those who are in position but thoroughly miserable and those who have been temporarily appointed until the posts could be advertised and made permanent. This latter category is sub-divided in two camps: those who can't wait to get back to their previous position when they see what and who is on offer, and those who would stop at nothing to get the job when the time comes. In the midst of all this, Jim and Karen have announced their decision to retire at the end of the school year. Eleanor has lost her eloquence and is more often than not hovering along the corridors with her head to the ground. One of the KGB stand-by newbie, Stewart Williamson, is so keen to get in permanently that he has signed his soul to the devil. He is now the Headmaster's most trusted ally and, like his master, starts all his e-mails and various written communication with "Colleagues...". As for Karen, who seemed to have developed a more human side since declaring her intention to retire, she can still reverse to her old self when the situation requires it. Unfortunately for our department, this particular situation does require Karen's forceful hand and general unpleasantness. Jack has been off ill for two weeks now and it looks like it might be a prolonged illness. It's not his fault but the timing is awful as it coincides with the imminent arrival of thirty French kids plus accompanying teachers from our exchange program. Jack is the one who organises it and he's got all the information; except, he's not here and the rest of us are more or less in the dark as to what arrangements have been made. Karen, who is in charge of overseeing school trips, has called us all in, or more to the point summoned us in, for a crisis meeting. She sits with her trousered legs wide apart, elbows on the table and her painted red fingernails, the only touch of feminine power Karen will willingly display, rhythmically pianoing on the wood. Her nasty glare follows everyone of us as we take our place round the table. Once everyone is seated, her menacing eyes go once more from one end of the table to the other, like a bird of prey circling its potential dinner. There is silence, politeness and fear telling us it's probably better to let her have the opening gambit. She delivers it swiftly in a cold and enigmatic tone designed to increase the distance between her and us; ultimate power versus trembling insignificance. "You're looking at me, French department and I'm looking right back at you, right back at you". Whatever the hell she means, it's effective. We're all shaking like twelve years old caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. Karen continues: "As you all know, the French school party is arriving next week and we don't know anything about the organisation. Jack is off sick and we can't phone him at home. We don't even know if he'll be back before the end of term. So let's make some sense out of this mess". Between all of us, we manage to provide Karen with numbers and a list of the planned outings for the week and a half the French will be staying with us. The outings are the same every year. We just don't know if Jack has booked them all or not. Karen delegates to each of us the task to check that each particular event has been booked. Now for the tricky part. The one thing we know for sure is that there is an issue with accommodation for the French group leader. He is due to stay with one of the PE teacher for a week but they couldn't have him over for the first three days of their arrival. As far as we know, Jack hasn't managed to sort out anything before falling ill. Once again, Karen takes the lead and her icy tone makes it quite clear as to what she thinks of our department's efficiency.

- He'll have to stay in a hotel for those three days, then. There's no other solution.

We all sheepishly nod in agreement.

- Okay. I'll book a room at the nearest most decent hotel. What's his name?

Lea clears her throat timidly before whispering: "Monsieur Guet" (pronounced 'gay'). Karen is just about choking. She looks at us in disbelief, wondering whether this is a joke or a conspiracy.

- There's no way I'm phoning a hotel and booking a room for Mr Gay! I'll call Sarah. She can do it.

Sarah, one of the school secretary, is called over and Karen uses her most efficient and matter of fact voice to ask her if she could book a hotel room for the French teacher.

- Of course. In what name?

- Mr Gay, replies Karen, trying to make it sound as if it was the most common name in the whole of Britain.

Sarah gasps but she knows better than to argue with Karen. She turns back and walks towards the phone, trying to hide a smirk on her face at the thought that Karen might have been the one making that phone call. As for Karen, she calls the meeting to an end, underlying once again that the success of this year's exchange program rests on our shoulders. Whether at the beginning or the end of her career, Karen doesn't do glitches. She'll go to any length to ensure that her record is flawless. Mistakes? Faux pas? Failure? Not on her watch!

As I'm going back upstairs, I come face to face with a very chirpy Dora. Is there something I should know?

- You look very happy, Dora. Did something happen with Ross?

- Something did happen but not with Ross.

- That's great! Tell me more.

- Well, recently, I've joined a walking group to try something different and meet new people. I'd only been a couple of times and they had a dinner dance on Friday. I couldn't go because it was one of our planned eating evenings with Ross and all that.