Monday Excitement is mounting as the festive season approaches. Alan wants to paint a sign for us. He is clearly engrossed with his pencils and paints, and an hour later shows us the result. There is a mystified expression on his face as he holds up the sign for our approval: “Christmas Merry”. He is ready to bin it but, much to his surprise, we love it and put it on display.
Tuesday We ask Craig how he feels following his annual review. “It was OK,” he says, “except for the bit where they accused me of slitting a boy’s throat.”
“No,” I assure him, “it was cutting a boy’s neck with a canteen knife.”
“Well,” he grumbles, “it was only an accidentI and if the teacher hadn’t seen it bleeding, I wouldn’t have got done at all.”
Saw a sign on my way into school today: “SOD THE DOG; BEWARE OF THE CHILDREN!” Appropriate, I thought.
Wednesday I try to contact Paul’s mother about his non-attendance. Each time I telephone the mobile number I’ve been given, an unfamiliar voice tells me she has never heard of Paul and there is no one with his surname in the household. On my third attempt, the recipient of the call finally informs me that she bought the phone in the second-hand shop.
Thursday The school counsellor is in today. Carl tells me the session was “boring”. I suspect he has missed the point.
After lunch the door is flung open and Kathy, our Little Miss Angry, comes storming in. “I’ve f***ing been bit by a bee,” she protests.
I am full of admiration for the bee’s courage in this encounter and make a mental note not to tussle with Kathy should I, perchance, be reincarnated as a bee.
Friday Alan tells us about his birthday present. Auntie bought him a remote control car. He opened it yesterday and accidentally drove it into the sea. Now it only goes backwards.
Christmas Merry!
Rebecca Porter writes under a pseudonym. She works in an on-site support unit for pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties in the south of England
