Monday: Reach staffroom and find the dawn patrol busy sniffing coffee fumes. I’m told that my supply teacher plans for today are no good because “those that were out are now in and those that were in are now out, but may come back in if those in decide to go out”. Conceal my confusion beneath an exterior of calm and hide my mistakes with doctor-type scrawl, knowing that I can make what I have written mean anything.
At the morning meeting, the head greets staff with customary smile and goes through his warm-up act. Staff are more than usually responsive and head believes he still has the knack, not realising that today is payday.
Tuesday: Discuss structures of the school with real deputy head. Agree to publish complex diagram of interwoven, interconnecting and overlapping circles to explain clearly to the governors how the school works. Thought they already knew we spent all day going round in circles.
Take time to read recent circulars from DFE and notice that their latest spark of wisdom is to introduce the revolutionary idea of marking out of 10 and using quantifying words such as “poor”, “satisfactory”, “good” and “very good”. Wish I had thought of that.
Wednesday: Off to teach a bit of PE today. Feeling younger already and set out to show them a thing or two, but have to drop out after I hurt my back bending over to put my boots on.
PE staff show no sympathy, for some reason, saying they hear that all the time. They banish me to the outer limits of hockey field in the cold. Come well prepared with walking boots, fleece jacket, scarf and umbrella. Conveniently forget to issue hockey sticks and teach them good old rugby instead.
Thursday: Try to sneak a lie-down in my office, but I’m brought back to life by the arrival of an irate parent holding a torn blazer and offspring. Listen to tale and try to think of myself sunbathing and swimming, but even here I am stung back into reality by a passing jellyfish.
Somehow I have agreed to have the blazer repaired but am rather worried how I shall do this.
Friday: School empties in record time. Any member of staff who dares to walk the corridor at this time does so at his or her own peril. Sensible ones have left already. I say goodbye to pupils at foot of stairs and mention that I hope to see them again on Monday. There is no response and they give me a wide berth, thinking I am going mad. All part of the plan for early retirement.
Visit bus turning-circle, hoping to find them all gone but instead find two buses with doors locked: drivers are forbidding entry until they have the culprits who caused the damage. Pupils are growing angry at being kept from their cartoons, and so I politely convince the drivers to run the gauntlet once again.
Paul Evans is acting deputy head at Alcester High School, Warwickshire.
