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To Be Honest(19)

By:Polly Young


Lisi, I won’t be able to meet you before registration. There’s briefing at 8. Go to the staffroom: you’ll be told about duty and cover, etc., then find your register and go to my room. Jenny’s a great help (you’re telling me) so if you need support, say you have a headache and ask her.

So that’s where all the teachers were. Briefing.

Then there’s a paragraph. Who does paragraphs in texts?!

I/you have year 7, double period before break. They’re doing media. 7A. Stick Wallace and Grommit on — it’s in my drawer - and get them to talk about the different ways of creating atmosphere. I’ll meet you at break near the staffroom door. Don’t forget to lock the classroom when you leave.

And then another paragraph.

And don’t tell anyone what’s going on. You haven’t, have you?

“Miss, do we get to go on another trip to London this year?”

“Miss, I’ve gottogoandseeMissAnderson,canIgoplease?”

“Alalala Lalalalala Lalala.” That’s Ricky, a gifted and talented boy who’s basically so clever sometimes he loses it.

“OWow!” Stupid Holly and Siobhan, always being idiots.

“Miss?”

“WHAT?”

The class falls silent. Then there’s sniggering from the corner. It’s Jenny who spoke.

“Nothing Miss, only I did the register.”

I thank her and amazingly when the bell goes they all get up and stand behind their chairs and wait ‘til I say to go. Miss Mint’s got them well trained even if I haven’t. Mind you, they do have maths next.

So now I head to English 3, which is where I’m teaching. Mondays is year 7 assembly so I have a few minutes before the class arrives and as I’m walking to the room, there’s Mr Morlis coming out of the hall. I grab him and pull him into the English office.

He looks amused, like I’m a puppy gnawing his shoe or something and not cross but he does say, in a low voice, “I’m not wholly convinced about the lipstick, Miss Mint.”

I wipe it off. Fine.

“Aren’t you teaching?”

“Year 7,” I roll my eyes like I’m saying, ‘ god, not year 7 ’, like a proper teacher. But a brainwave has come to me ‘cos I’m thinking about what he said on the coach back from London, and I’m meeting Miss Mint at break so what if Mr Morlis comes too?

“Sure,” he nods and he’s off, bounding up the stairs to science, sort of like a cool monkey.

Year 7’s a breeze.

Wallace and Gromit’s not my favourite film in the world but they all sit boy girl without being told and after I’ve taken the register, filling in smiley faces for anyone getting their reading book out without me asking them (something that never works after year 7), and I’ve stuck it on, they just sit there.

Halfway through the lesson, the bell goes but I remember it’s a double and just say, “sit still.” The LSA looks a bit concerned, like she’s expecting more or something and some of the try-harders pipe up but I just say, “you need to see the whole film through for it to make sense.” While they’re sitting there I go round to check they’ve got their books open and are making notes but to be honest I can’t really be bothered so if a kid hasn’t got a pen I just smile and say, “bring one next time” and they smile back at me a bit confused but some of them are sweet, like so sweet, it makes me want a younger brother badly.

But the good thing is an hour and a half goes past and it’s quarter past ten and break time before I know it. I leg it to the staffroom and Miss Mint’s already there.

With Kai.

My dress, boobs and heels distract him for a minute but then his eyes are locked to her again.

“Hi Miss Mint,” he says to me, casually. The toothpick’s out again.

“Kai. Lisi.” I am so confused. What’s she been saying? What’s he?

“I need to speak to Miss,” she says and Kai squeezes his eyes and her hand and gives nothing away but goes, sloping off towards the tech block.

Before I can think about this, Mr Morlis pops up. “Miss Mint, shall we?”

“Sir, I need to speak to Miss!” I feel sorry for her, I really do, because the look she gives me is sheer terror.

“It’s ok,” I say, feeling again the one in control. “Lisi, Mr Morlis and I would like to talk to you together actually.” I am almost, almost enjoying this ‘cos now they both look baffled.

We go through the door and I’ve only been in this room once before. We walk straight through so I don’t have time to wonder why Mr Cantor’s raging at Mr Underwood or Miss Anderson’s doing stretches in games kit by the big table. Or why Erin’s mum’s crying in the corner. We’ve got twelve minutes of break left so we have to be quick. There’s a spare learning support room out the back. At break, all the isolated kids get to go to the kitchen to get a drink, escorted by a member of staff, so it’s usually empty round here. We traipse in and I shut the door.