Heads of department began holding meetings, followed by more meetings, to get scripts written, sort out props, check that scenery was up to scratch and rehearse. Even the kitchen staff and the caretaker had parts to play.

As rehearsals got underway, the head did his bit to improve morale by doing his impression of Dad’s Army’s Corporal Jones, shouting “Don’t panic!” as he dashed from class to class. The extra rush of adrenalin helped us find the energy to keep going and now it was too late to give up - the dates had been publicised to ensure the best possible attendance.

Suddenly, the spirit of show business really began to show: staff worked round the clock, even at weekends; the pupils showed more interest in it than in their own lessons. And when the boiler broke down we struggled on gamely at barely five degrees Celsius. The incident with the falling spotlight did hit morale and one colleague was hospitalised for a few days. “Even so,” cried the head, “the show must go on”.

Relentlessly the days and weeks passed. Extra meetings were held in addition to the extra meetings we were already holding. Scripts were refined, scenery was patched up and painted; props were repaired or replaced - if only there’d been the time and money to do it properly.

We went through the dress-rehearsal with panache. Illnesses were all forgotten as we coughed and sneezed our way to perfection.

Then, before we knew it, Pantomime Week had arrived - five days of performance for an audience of bemused pupils and other observers. At 6am that Monday morning the staff room had to be seen to be believed - busy with the cast making last-minute changes. Finally, before Curtains Up, the head wished us good luck - forgetting that in this business “break a leg” is more appropriate.

With hindsight it was obvious that some of us would succumb to nerves, especially those of us who went on first. But at least we could then concentrate on getting the rest of our act together.

Needless to say, we had our fair share of cock-ups: props failing to work or falling apart in mid-performance; missed cues, late arrivals; forgetting our ad libs. Knowing how carefully we were being watched didn’t help.

Audience reaction varied: some members were unnaturally silent; others unnaturally lively, laughing in all the wrong places. Some responded well with cries of “he’s behind you”, “she’s over here”, and “he’ll be here in a minute”; others responded with gusto to the line “Now let’s do this as we normally do every lesson” heckling “Oh no we don’t” - “Oh yes you do”. Right through the week no two audiences behaved the same which kept us on our toes.

At last, the final curtain, and we headed for the Post-Pantomime Party to let our hair down. Then the head gave us the critics reviews - 16 of them in all over the course of the week: “sound performances”, “well-paced”; “good content appropriate to the pupil’s abilities”; “good structuring to stretch the pupils”; “props, scenery, and technical support underfunded”, “overall above average”. In fact, he said they were so impressed they said they’d come back for a repeat performance in four years’ time.

Roll on 1999!

Martin Wesley is a chemistry teacher at St Aloysius College, Highgate, north London. A new headteacher has recently been appointed.