Monday: Got brought into school by the police when they found me dogging it a couple of streets away. I was getting bored anyway - I just hoped that all my pals would see me getting out of the car. The heidie told me that I could soon be “looking for another school” and that he’d be writing to “inform your mother of the situation”. Just as well we’re not on the ‘phone - it’s easy getting to the mail first but you can’t stop a ‘phone call.
Arrived in class at the end of maths, shouting about being late because I’d been “picked up by the Polis”. I thought the rest of them would be dead jealous, but they only laughed. Even the teacher had a grin on his face and mumbled something about me not even managing to dog school without messing it up.
Tuesday: Found the heidie’s letter and binned it. Finished one of the three punnies I had from yesterday. The teachers would never remember to ask for them all anyway. Got to registration just in time to meet the English principal looking for his lines. I gave him the one I’d just finished and he ripped them up in front of me, without even clocking that the “parental signature” had been done by a first year girl. So far so good!
The French teacher didn’t remember about her exercise - she was too busy trying to find out who had swapped around all the vocabulary labels in her classroom. At least I couldn’t get the blame for that one, since I hadn’t even been in the room at the time. Just history to bluff my way through now. I tried the one about my ma’ washing the lines in my jeans pocket, but the teacher made a cheeky comment about me having “the most frequently washed denims in the school” and then asked me if I “seriously considered her to be stupid”. I nearly answered her, but didn’t, even though I could hear my pals up the back egging me on.
Wednesday: Tried to keep out of trouble today but was pulled up first thing for wearing football colours instead of a uniform. Then my French teacher discovered that I was doing her work at the back of my English jotter. I’d written “French” on one side and “English” on the other. The teachers had both been marking it for weeks without realising.
The guidance teacher came looking for me to find out why my ma’ wasn’t coming to parents’ night. I told him what she’d said to me when I gave her the form: “I spend so much time up at that bloody school listening to complaints about you that I’m probably on your heidie’s Christmas card list. I’m no’ goin’ up there at night just to get a big riddie (row) from your other teachers as well.” The teacher just nodded, as if he thought she was quite right.
Thursday: Did well today. I even managed to get time out of class when I took the dog that was running around the science lab out of the school. The teacher wrote “very helpful” on my behaviour card. Apart from home economics, where I got caught throwing scone-mix into the next classroom, I kept out of trouble all day.
Friday: My ma’s back in the Big Man’s office. He was dead sneaky and ‘phoned her at work. (It was all just a bit of a laugh, chucking stolen tomatoes around the place. I didn’t mean to pelt the teacher with them; he just got in the way.) No one around here wants to know my side of the story, though. My ma’ keeps muttering: “Just wait till I get you home.”
The bell is ringing and I can see the gang all flying out the “Staff only” door with the janny chasing after them. Usually I’d be with them, but today I’m not much looking forward to the weekend. Friday just doesn’t seem like Friday anymore.
‘A Truant’ is a teacher in a Glasgow comprehensive
