Why me? I'm being persecuted by that weaselly little git from 9B, Owen Martin. On Monday, he kept playing Wanksta by 50 Cent on his mobile phone, and yesterday he came in with an ultra-realistic bullet wound painted over his left eye. I confiscated the face paint after a struggle, only for the headteacher to burst in to find us bawling at each other with our hands covered in red goo. So much for seasoned professional. I may as well have been yelling "Here's Johnny!"
On the plus side, an incredibly eyeball-friendly new teaching assistant has joined the French department. He's only 24. But to hell with it I've decided young men are where it's at. Think about it. You won't have to listen to them bore you with their pompous opinions on art and politics, and there is far less chance of being tossed aside for a Mexican language student with more bra-padding than brains when they're hit by an early mid-life crisis, not-to mention-any-names-Pete-Gill. On the contrary, a young man will look up to me for my style and maturity. And I will admire him for his lack of a paunch.
Anyway, just as I was about to ask Annette from French for an introduction, the new head sidled into the staffroom. The atmosphere froze. Then everyone tried to act completely naturally, except without the bitching and swearing. Which basically meant the place was plunged into complete silence. "Anyone going to make me a cup of tea then?" she asked, not looking at all fazed.
Apparently, popping up on us when we least expect it like some kind of ghoulish Jack-in-a-box is part of being a "visible head" and is designed to "facilitate a culture of community and a sense of belonging". Oh well, I suppose it could be worse. And at least when she asked for some tea, both Graham "flog 'em and hang 'em" Perkins and that sap from geography dove in at the same time and head-butted each other, thus redeeming an otherwise unpromising situation.
Anyway, hope things are good in Kuala Lumpur. Write soon.
Love Kate x