Confessions of a teacher: Because school isn't quite what you remember it to be... Read Online Free PDF Page B

the chicken eaters, one for the fish lovers, one for carnivores, not forgetting the fairly substantial vegetarian category. I can't help but wonder if an opportunity to produce a multiple choice worksheet has been missed here. Waiters dressed like penguins have appeared out of nowhere to take the orders which they conscientiously write onto their note pads as they move along. The conversations are flowing but it is hard not to notice the negative vibrations that float over some of the people forced to sit in each other's company. At the chemistry department table, the one missing element is chemistry. Everyone knows that the principal teacher, is thoroughly disliked by his staff for his unreasonable demands on their time while he, himself, ensures that he can go home as soon as the bell goes, taking no more than a few jotters to correct. Two tables along, Maths doesn't fare much better. It is a secret for no-one that Hilary Denver and Peter Sutherland use to have an affair that ended (?) badly. Both eventually returned to their respective spouses, but that didn't stop the staff from having to keep them apart for a while for their own safety. For several months, these two couldn't talk to each other without things turning to physical violence. They seem to have mastered the art of pretending now, but the tension is plain for every one to see. Besides, with the alcohol flowing and the knives at hand, I'm not entirely sure they will come out of this evening alive. As for Laura and David, they are forced to sit next to the very person they opposed in yet another meeting only two days ago. The speeches had better start soon or the cutlery might serve some other purpose than the intended one and the knives in particular might suddenly turn into murder weapons. Fortunately the silvery sound of cutlery against glass intimates the beginning of addresses and after a few bad jokes, some more alcoholic fuel and no violence most of us head home to a well deserved weekend. Some of the staff had decided to make a night of it and had booked a room in the hotel. I can't help but notice that alcohol has had an effect quite different from the one expected on Hilary and Peter. I could have swore that I saw them grabbing one single key for the room they're not supposed to share...
     
    The following week, rumours about Peter and Hilary have spread like wildfire by the time we reach coffee break. "I think they're at it again" says Les Woodworth as he sips his cup of tea. "Surely not" replies Rhona Pursley, "surely that's just gossips after the night out!". "I've seen the two of them go into the same room on Friday night, Rhona, and I don't think they went in for a simple chat and a last drink". The giggles around the table are interrupted by the entrance of the very objects of our conversation. After pouring themselves a cup of coffee, both Hilary and Peter head in different corners of the staffroom in a 'we're innocent' manner that is far too ostentatious to be completely believable. Peter slumps on the empty chair at our table as if suffering from extreme exhaustion. "Good night on Friday, wasn't it?" he asks with as much ingenuity as he can summon up. Nods from the assembled party. No one dares say out loud what they're actually thinking: "Yes, a good night, especially for you...". Les breaks the awkwardness by saying: "Well, that's official now, we're all waiting for new leadership. I wonder who'll get the job." Of course, any hierarchical change is bound to bring a certain amount of uncertainty, mystery and suspense. What's next? Who will be the top man or woman? What gossips can we gather about him or her? So far, six people are still in the race: Four women and two men. The bets are opened all round. The office ladies are praying for a man. They are easier to work for apparently. The KGB is more or less sulking, fearing the end of a comfortable routine they got accustomed to over the years. As for the rest of us? Well, we'll just take