Diary of an Assistant Mistress (12 page)

Sunday 3rd July

Why am I writing as set of first year reports when I just had a parents' evening? I could write down what I said, if I could only remember what it was.

Monday 4th July

Today, Peter informed me that Councillor Greengage, a school governor and pillar of the local Tory Party and a racist to boot (or at least kick around a little) was coming to observe one of my lessons tomorrow. I suggested that they try someone else, say, anyone else. He told me that she was particularly interested in computers so I could hardly refuse to have the old bat flapping around the classroom for a bit.

I then sent a note to the bursar, saying that the blind in my room needed fixing and I had a governor coming tomorrow.

It did the trick. Sikes was across like a bat out of hell - in fact he resembles a bat out of hell in many ways. His face was wearing a grotesque expression (I later realised he was grinning) and he grunted some polite comments and fixed the blind.

Judo. I am beginning to get used to it again.

Tuesday 5th July

Enter the Greengage. She let slip that two school governors were observing my lessons for a specific reason. Giving me the sack for gross moral turpentine (or lack of white spirit) was not mentioned, but I will have a wee word with the teacher governor just in case. He would be unceremoniously tossed out of the meeting if such a matter were discussed but he could do some discreet - or indiscreet, I'm not proud - lobbying on my behalf.

The Greengage said nothing. It didn't start well. One of my pupils had left his bag by the door and she tripped over it. I reprimanded him: "We can't have you half-killing visitors." He agreed that he didn't like doing things by halves either. No response.

I told her the story about the blind and it didn't raise a smile. I started explaining what the pupils were doing. Adults always know much more or less about InfoTech than I expect. There was nothing in her response which told me whether she understood anything which I said to her or thought I was being patronising.

The lesson was about Spreadsheets. Nothing to suggest moral turpitude here. I did catch her looking askance at the length of my skirt but perhaps she just fancied me. She is out of luck there - I don't even like ƒbmen with beards.

Wednesday 6th July

I caught PMT - the teacher-governor - in the staffroom over coffee. He was surprisingly supportive and said I have nothing to worry about. He then talked about the probability that - since I had done nothing whatsoever - I would be let off with a reprimand.

This reminds me of one of Solzhenitsin's stories in which prisoners were unloaded from a train and a bored guard asked them their sentences and what they were in for. A man said "twenty five years for doing nothing."

"Liar." said the guard, "the sentence for nothing is ten years."

Thursday 7th July

I asked the office for a list of the governors but apparently this is a state secret. I asked PMT for a list and interestingly enough he couldn't provide one either. This suggests that my original assessment was right and he will prove as much use as a condom in a convent.

I have asked George if he can get one through the NUT, which in turn meant that I had to tell him what is going on. He swore a lot: among other things he swore he would get me the list, I shall just have to wait and see.

The Archimedes has returned. It was sitting in the office - nobody had thought to tell me it was there.

Friday 8th July

From Tessa I have heard the latest. It seems that I am being blamed for being stabbed by one of my pupils - my "lack of control" was clearly to blame. Fortunately, Pat is prepared to swear on a stack of little Welsh bibles that this is a ludicrous slander. I could kiss the little swine. He may be the star witness for the defence

On the way home, I saw the same two girls quite openly throwing stones at the ducks. "There's nothing you can do. You're going to be sacked anyway."

Saturday 9th July

Shopping at the Co-op. They are miles from the nearest carpark and I don't know why I bother. Their tea and jellies are the best but I don't have to buy everything else there.

Bondage. Although James clearly misread the word as "bandage". He enthusiastically tied my hands and legs together with bandages. Then he realised that ... well, it's obvious really.

He rather shamefacedly untied me and offered to tie me to a chair. I said I really was going off the boil and we had better call it a day.

Sunday 10th July

James produced a "bandage" video - presumably sponsored by Elastoplast - and frankly I didn't see the point and said so. He thinks my problems at work are affecting my libido. I wondered out loud whether anything could adversely affect his. He said bearded lady Tory councillors and I tickled him.

Monday 11th July

What next? ƒbSomebody has been telling my pupils that I am for the chop. This means they are more likely to be stroppy which will in turn lead to comments about my control, or lack of it.

In fact my InfoTech group are quite sympathetic whereas my CPVE group are apathetic and the teacher governor is merely pathetic. At lunchtime, PMT advised me to "keep a low profile." I suppose this is to make sure that when I do get the order of the boot there will be less fuss.

George has failed to produce the list and acted as if I were being indiscreet when I mentioned the subject.

Judo. The more I think about it, the more I think the Yokohama Judo Clubs have the right method of teaching. Almost everyone is a teacher. Green belts are teaching Red Belts; Blue Belts are taking the whole group for breakfalls. Cascading without the overtones.

Tuesday 12th July

PMT said that he had had an informal chat with the Head. She denies everything but she did concede that they might have an informal discussion about staffing matters at the next governors' meeting in September. She could not tell him what the "staffing matters" were because they were confidential and in any case he would be asked to leave the meeting when they were discussed.

Of course a bit of informal backstabbing does not require the presence of NUT representatives or any witnesses for the defence or of the "staffing matter" being discussed.

Wednesday 13th July

George tells me that some unsavoury individual has taken to misusing the boys' toilets. Consequently he is involved in duties every lunchtime and senior staff are patrolling the loos during their copious free periods.

It seems "Chummy" (yes, he actually called him that) was mistaking the radiator for the lavatory.

He then went on into a minor disquisition about the use of euphemism in English - a language in which there is actually no word for the thing to which the word 'lavatory' refers ("lavatory" and "toilet" actually mean places where one washes: a cloakroom is a place for cloaks etc.) This effectively avoided the issue of my little worries.

Thursday 14th July

Met Torquemada in the corridor, he invited me into the RE cupboard. Making sure the door remained open, I followed him in. He started talking about the "problems" he thought I might be having with some of the governors. He said (looking at my legs) that he had friends on the board of governors. He added (looking at my breasts) that he could put a good word for me. Then he concluded (reverting to my hemline) that he would want something in return.

By this time he was leaning really close and giving me the full benefit of his non-smoker's breath.

I was beginning to wonder what he wanted from me when he started to breathe (ugh!) comments about assemblies and how difficult it was to get them organised all on his own. Then he sat back and looked lonely.

I asked him if he could get me a list of the school governors and he said that this would not be necessary. By this time he was between me and the door, blocking out the light, and I was ready to cry "sexual harrassment" when a first year pupil arrived with a query. I had to brush past Torquemada on the way out and I didn't imagine what he did with his left hand on the way.

Friday 15th July

I spent the whole day teaching, I didn't think about the hierarchy all day, I avoided the staffroom at lunchtime and went home in a better frame of mind. I can survive the next week to the end of term on this basis. I have never looked forward to the end of term so much.

Saturday 16th July

We went to Brighton and spent most of the day on the beach. James spent a good deal of time looking at a girl in a pink bikini. I found this a little odd because we were on the nudist beach: she was the only person wearing anything.

It soon became apparent that James was not looking at her because of the novelty of her attire. He obviously noticed his erection because he suddenly turned face down in the sand. I thought this was a good time to ask him to go and get an ice-cream.

He wouldn't go. I thought this was a bit mean and I tried to coax him into going by offering to rub Soltan all over his body. I demonstrated by starting work on his buttocks. By now I think he was ploughing a furrow in the sand.

I explained that the ice creams weren't very expensive and I'd make it worth his while in all sorts of ways. I then started to enumerate the ways.

I didn't get the ice-cream but at least he stopped looking at the PB woman and started looking at me.

Sunday 17th July

Cold.

Monday 18th July

Note in pigeon hold reminding me that I missed bus duty on Friday and expatiating on the importance of bus duty and pupil safety. More ammunition for them.

Tuesday 19th July

I have seen the future and I don't like the look of it. After getting a preview of next year's provisional timetable, the threats to sack me pale into insignificance. The last time they asked me if I wanted to do drama or CPVE again, I think my words were, "Over my dead body."

Has Oz got it in for me too? When I commented on the timetable to him he looked so upset I ended up sympathising with him. Then I looked at his timetable and decided that he had a worse one than I had. Of course this is the only reason he can sell these lousy timetables to the department: we all know he does not benefit from it himself.

The people who benefit are the loudmouthed individuals (George and Tessa) who pay the price in losing popularity in the department.

Wednesday 20th July

Today I said goodbye to the "Who lumbered me with this lot" ninth years. I cannot say it was a tearful farewell.

Thursday 21st July

Everyone is demob happy. We all received official timetables for next year in our pigeon holes. We all put them away unread. The cascade of pigeon-dropping has slowed to a mere trickle.

Friday 22nd July

I wonder why middle-aged cats take to sitting directly in the path of the car. I suppose it is a kind of death-wish. Samovar nearly got his wish this morning but a neighbour warned me in time. There are still some kind people about. I wish I could remember the name of this one.

The last day of term just flew by - like a Sopwith Camel with engine trouble. However, it came to an end at last and the obligatory departmental booze-up began. I did not drink because I had the car with which to ferry home the Archimedes. I hope to remember how to use the machine during the holiday.

Sober as I was, I didn't find the jokes getting funnier and funnier

August does not exist for Teachers. It is no good anyone asking me the plural of “cactus” in August. Wait until September and it will all come flooding back.

Monday 5th September

That was a short holiday. In fact I left diary disk at school. In any case I spent most of the summer doing a temporary job with the Social Security (DOSS as we called it) and I prefer to draw a veil over the episode - there is always the Official Secrets Act in any case. I think it is enough to remark that I seem to be even more in debt now than I was at the beginning of the summer.

An InService Training day spent comparing moans about the timetable and discussing Aids. At least it was enlivened by the spectacle of Phil Hammond - who claims to be 'responsible for Aids in Inner London' - explaining to Torquemada that oral sex is quite safe because he would have to swallow a pint of saliva to stand a chance of infection.

NUT meeting. There was nearly a coup d'etat. A move was made by a minority of members to remove me from the port of Minutes' Secretary until they realised that nobody else wanted the job. I wonder if I should minute that?

Judo. Just what I needed.

Tuesday 6th September

Confusion worse confounded. The timetable has been organised into nine periods a day whereas we in fact still teach eight. The forms are referred to by the old number plus seven half of the time and the old number plus one the other half- except year 1 which is now year 7.

Year 7 are rather endearing in a way, they keep assuming teachers know where they are supposed to go next and the teachers consult the timetable. The whole exercise ends in tears on a fairly wide scale.

Period 3 today I simply had no class at all. I don't know where they went. I may be blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time however you view the timetable (preferably upside down through the wrong end of a telescope).