Primary School Confidential (17 page)

And it was little triumphs like these that kept me going. The day that tough, taciturn girl make a friend was the stuff of dreams. Soon, Friendly and Precious were inseparable.

It was not unheard of to turn up at school one day to find that a new student had joined the class. Or that one had left with no
warning. The advent of one new family in particular stands out in my memory.

The Joneses had many children, all of whom were exceedingly skinny with sunken eyes and were riddled with head lice. The children were extremely developmentally delayed. It was quite obvious that we were dealing with a family in crisis. The teachers of the Jones children had to work with the local child welfare agency to make sure that they were coming to school on time, that they were eating lunch and that there were no signs of anything sinister.

As time unfolded, the tragedy of their situation became clear. The Jones children were growing up in a house plagued by incest; their father was also their grandfather. I cannot go into the horrors of the visitation reports that we had to read in order to get some idea of their home environment, but suffice to say it was tragic.

I would look at the Jones girl in my class, her eyes dull and old, and I would try with all my might to teach her to read. If she could just read, I reasoned, she would have more opportunities open to her. Together we persevered, using every spare moment available to us, as I knew that she didn't have too much time left with me. By the time the authorities pressed charges against her father and placed all the children into foster care, Irene Jones could read a book. A small book, but a book nonetheless.

Though the grapevine I heard that Irene and her younger sister were adopted together, joining a happy family. I often wonder about them still. I hope that, despite their dreadful beginnings, their lives turned out okay.

David was another one of my concerns. Being legally blind, he could make out light and shade and that was about it. I demanded
of Patricia that I get some help with him, as I was still spending most of my time dealing with the hand-to-hand combat that my students thought was part of the curriculum. The inspection was coming up and I really had to sharpen up my classroom management skills. I was aware, however, that every day that slipped away with David sitting there, doing nothing, was making his future prospects worse. Soon a full-time special-needs teacher was assigned to work one-on-one with David. This was an enormous relief because I could concentrate all my efforts on refereeing the rest of the rabble.

Now, this class had never had a plan, had never had a timetable, and the classroom resources we had been supplied were totally inappropriate. Nevertheless, I managed to knock together a program, which looked like a dog's breakfast given the diverse range of abilities I had to cater for. My one rule for myself was that I was never to lose my shit at the kids, because it just didn't work. Instead, I kept my voice low, speaking slowly and deliberately.

We were getting there.

One of the great pleasures of this time in the classroom was the staff I worked alongside. We were as culturally diverse as the kids. Each Friday we would head up to the local caff for lunch. Oh, how I miss that caff! For a couple of quid, you could scoff down the works: bacon, sausages, mushies, baked beans and grilled tomatoes all nestled under something called a ‘fried slice', which was just a piece of white bread that they chucked into the deep fryer. Delicious! I washed it all down with a mug of sweet tea, and felt positively English.

And what teacher worth their weight in chalk would not partake of a few unwinding beverages on a Friday at the pub on the way home? This was where the real action happened, as pints of lager were drained and packets of Lay's crisps were demolished.

It was like we were a secret club. Occasionally, one of your charges would come into the pub with their parents and look at you as if you were an escaped zoo animal, because teachers live at school, don't they?

The week of the inspection arrived, and I did what any decent teacher would do. I bought a huge bag of sweets and showed them to the class, explaining that for every day of that week, while we had our special guests, I would give them all lollies if they behaved. Oh, the power of a good boiled lolly.

So popular and effective did my ploy prove, I was kicking myself that I hadn't thought of this earlier.

I spent a lot of time tarting up the classroom, carefully hanging up the kids' art on the walls, which had remained bare for so long. I taught my kids about tissues, and how they were not just for using as spit balls.

But I still didn't know what the fuck I was going to do about Leonard.

Oh, Leonard. Could you be more revolting if you tried? To be fair, he was suffering from some sort of adenoid problem, which resulted in him almost always sporting two long, thin runnels of mucus streaming from his nostrils.

‘Leonard!' I would cry. ‘Tissues!'

Leonard was unusually tall for his age, perhaps a result of
his African heritage, and was particularly fond of spending long periods of doing nothing much but grunting at me.

‘Leonard, please take your seat.'

‘Nuh.'

‘Leonard, I am going to ask you again, please take your seat.'

‘Nuh.'

This would go on and on and on until eventually I would wear him down and he would slowly get up and meander menacingly over to his desk. Just when I thought I had won the battle, he would take his arm and swipe another kid's desk clean of books and pencils.

‘Please pick those up, Leonard.'

‘Nuh.'

And so it continued.

I say again: what the fuck was I going to do with him, and his rivers of snot and his appalling behaviour? Bribes were not going to work with Leonard, and nor were threats, as he just didn't give a shit. I had to try a different approach.

I decided to befriend Leonard, to try to make him understand that if he didn't sharpen up his act then we would all be screwed. I had made such progress with the rest of the bunch; I was blowed if I'd let him ruin it for everyone.

So I kept Leonard very busy that week. He ran all my errands. He was in charge of giving out books, sharpening pencils, taking the vomiting kid to sick bay. Leonard learnt skills in this time that I hope are still with him today, wherever that may be. Leonard cleaned the blackboard, and took the dusters outside at the end of each teaching session to bash them like buggery against the brick wall to remove the excess chalk. (This had the additional benefit of giving him an outlet to release his natural aggression.) Leonard
became my main man and I loaded him up with responsibilities. And, heavens be praised, he began to change.

He stopped threatening others with death, which was a delightful turn of events for all concerned. I persuaded him to always keep a tissue in his pocket, and taught him how to successfully deal with the excess snot production he continued to be plagued by. I even managed to convince him to wash his hands.

And then the dreaded day arrived: the Ofsted inspectors came to my classroom.

I was so proud of my class as they sat attentively while I taught at the front of the room. Then, when I asked them to split up into groups, I marvelled at how they all stood and calmly made their way over to their desks. I was floored when Friendly offered one of the inspectors a chair.

FLOORED.

I had done it. I had had my Sidney Poitier moment. From being punched in the guts on that first day, I now had a class of engaged kids who knew that if I turned up each day, then shit would get done.

My last day at Southwold Primary School was 28 October 1996. Patricia handed me a reference and expressed her gratitude. Highlights of the reference include:

This was quite an interesting way of describing my teaching style, considering that I basically just bribed everyone to behave.

My departure was certainly tinged with sadness. I will never forget the faces of those students, and their stories are entrenched in my memory. Mehmet and Nico, Friendly and her best mate Precious. Darling, dear David and revolting Leonard. They will always have a place in my heart.