“I try never to go,” I overhear one child saying. “One of the seats is broken, and the other one’s lock is so stiff I’m frightened I won’t be able to get out again.”

“In ours,” her friend replies, “one is really low down, and the other one always has paper stuffed down it, so I never go either, until I get home. Then I’m bursting.”

The more children I talk to, the more I realise that their minds are frequently focused on toilets rather than on their lessons. This might come as a surprise, as the children that teachers notice most are those who spend their time trying to escape to the haven of the loo. The fact that, for some pupils, loos provide a refuge from the rigours of the numeracy hour masks the fact that, for others, they are a place of terror.

Children worry - about someone walking in (many locks don’t work); about what to do with sanitary wear (particularly relevant for 10 and 11-year-old girls); about stepping in other people’s mess; and about the lack of loo paper, mirrors, soap and towels.

It isn’t unusual to find sinks that drain into gullies and leak all over cold, tiled floors. There are often old cisterns with chains that don’t flush, and the toilet paper may be found more frequently stuffed down the bowl than on a roll. One reason for the poor state of toilets seems to be the absence of official guidelines. “We would expect all schools to offer hot running water,” says a spokes-person from Cambridgeshire county council, “and we would not expect to see outside toilet facilities. Otherwise it’s down to the commonsense of the school.”

Outside facilities? In 2001? It’s a bit like saying we would not expect to see children chewing real lead pencils.

The minimum ratio of one toilet for every 20 children is also alarming, considering the propensity boys, in particular, have for missing the bowl.

“Common sense” could be read as “availability of funds.” If schools have broken windows or need extra classrooms, who is going to prioritise the state of the toilets, as long as they work? And, it is tempting to ask, if children want clean, attractive facilities, why don’t they leave them as they would wish to find them?

The answer may not be so much to do with the disparity between the children who use the toilets badly and those who don’t use them at all, as it is to do with the similarities in their attitudes towards the loos. If the toilets resemble a pigsty to start with, you either avoid them, or you chuck wet toilet paper at the ceiling (wet toilet paper dries on the ceiling in a lump, expert nine-year-olds tell me).

Helen Clark, research officer for the Makeover at Schools Project at London’s Institute of Education, argues that the overall school environment, including the toilets, has a knock-on effect on pupils’ self-esteem and academic performance. “Children need to own their environment,” she says. “By making them feel it is theirs, they are more likely to take an active interest in caring for it.” She suggests that the school building itself can become a learning resource.

One school where this premise was put into practice was Halstow in Greenswich. Using funds from the parent-teacher association and the school budget, an environmental development group spent a weekend redecorating the Year 5 and 6 girls’ loos, and they involved the girls in the process. They painted the walls yellow, put up mirrors and pictures, and provided waste bins. The result has been that the girls have taken a pride in maintaining the toilets as attractive places.

However, when Arbury primary in Cambridge updated its toilets, the staff did not need an academic goal. The feeling was that “one wouldn’t accept stinking, leaking toilet facilities for our children at home, so why accept them here?” Although the children did not have a say in the alterations, staff have noticed a marked change in their treatment of the loos, as if the children want to keep them tidy.

Perhaps we don’t need to use the theory that pupil’s performance may be improved as an argument for making their toilets better. Decent facilities should be a given, regardless of results. But it is worth considering that, when little Ellie’s eyes glaze while being asked for a rhyme for “cat”, it may be because she is concentrating on keeping her legs crossed until she can get home to a clean toilet seat.

Penny Hancock is a supply teacher and a freelance writer