It’s amazing what lurks in school cupboards. Moving to a new school has confirmed what I already knew - teachers are chronic hoarders. There are cupboards and storerooms across the country that could be relabelled “It’ll come in useful one day” full of cardboard, bubble wrap, bags of wool and endless odds and ends.
None of this belongs to anybody so no one wants to take the decision to throw it away. The minute you decide it has to go, somebody sidles up to you and whispers, “That was donated by the deputy head before last and it would be sad to throw it.” Feeling guilty, back it goes.
Caretakers come in two modes - chuck it or store it. I do not think there are many caretakers’ bolt holes without at least one electric organ that doesn’t quite work but fits snugly behind the boiler. And, inevitably, the one precious thing you did want to save is the one thing that goes in the skip first.
You do find the occasional treasure, like a bag of angels’ costumes made from Second World War parachute silk, logbooks that are un-putdownable and desks with ink wells. We found a painted ostrich egg at the back of one cupboard. It had been brought back from an exotic holiday by a member of staff in 1960. Had anyone ever used it? No. Would it be useful at any time in the future? No. Should we throw it away? Oh no! It lurks there still.
We’ve tried recycling and redistributing. Who wants our beautiful wooden PE equipment that infants can’t even begin to lift? I love going to antique markets and frequently see old school chairs and desks at ridiculous prices. They don’t want to flood the market so they don’t seem to want my desks and chairs. They’ll take them away as a favour!
I did ponder the idea of selling off some old radiators in my last school. The local authority decided they owned them and the school could not profit from their resale. I got the same answer about the Victorian fireplaces, and the juniors have a fabulous Victorian iron spiral staircase. Just think how many new books that could fund.
We’re having a blitz. I’ll take responsibility. I’m not brave enough to throw things out in daylight; I’ll come under cover of darkness. In a few weeks, when somebody asks, “Has anybody seen that roll of puce paper I’ve been saving for my autumn display?”, I shall shrug and make eyes in the direction of the caretaker.
Sue Walker
Sue Walker is headteacher of an infant school in Kent
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