'Bloody Music!' - Chapters 1-7......

Bloody Music

(A Sonata for the Creatively Misunderstood in the Modern World)

By

Nicolas John

  First Edition - 2015

Copyright ?2015 Nicolas John Firth. 

For Terina, my family,

colleagues, educators and music teachers everywhere.

This is for you.

"Music in education can contribute to all areas of experience, including the mathematical, physical, technological, spiritual, the aesthetic, creative, and social. There are many skills of the mind that are developed in this process: imagining, formulating, discriminating, selecting, rejecting, evaluating, ordering, structuring."

"Aesthetics is a powerful force in all forms of creative work: for scientists and mathematicians just as for musicians, poets, dancers and designers."

Sir Ken Robinson. 

  

Part 1 (Exposition)

Late August

One

Frank attempted to open his eyes - slowly.

Very slowly actually…. just enough to allow the familiar elements of his bedroom to forge recognition into the disarray that was attempting to be his consciousness. Too painful - eyes closed!

Why exactly had he continued to ‘down the scotch’ last night when he knew full well 'enough was enough'? Simple but stupid question, with a simple but stupid answer; on the one hand, Phil had called round for a barbecue that always resulted in a long night of sorrowful banter disguised as wit and entertainment, and on the other, this was the day he'd been dreading for six, far too short weeks - the last day of the summer holidays! 

Whilst being a teacher gave you great time-off (no-one could really deny it although everyone tried!) the downside was that it was all too easy to develop a fear and reluctance to re-engage in the world that had become ‘modern education’ after such lengthy breaks away from the coal face! Frank was the classic example of the world worn educator - dreading the end of his summer break and the inevitability of the academic year ahead.

Essentially, he really loved what he did, despite any ingrained embarrassment and all the associated baggage that goes with the label 'music teacher’ (and there is always some in any school). He felt he’d tried and somewhat succeeded in finding a way to inspire, whilst still retaining a genuine enthusiasm - rare now amongst his colleagues - and had ascended to the position of Head of Music at Greater Barrows High, certainly one of the better schools in the county. It had been difficult at times and had needed resilience and real determination, but Frank wasn't a quitter - he had seen too many of his peers simply walk away without achieving very much, as they became increasingly frustrated with trying to deliver a meaningful music programme in schools that didn't want them. Frank wasn't going to accept that this was okay, in fact he wasn't going to accept much in the way of suppression at all - he was going to attempt to convince everyone that not only was music important, it was vital in its place in the world, and in particular in a child's development! Whilst his colleagues at times thought he was delusional, Frank didn't care; delusional or not, above all else, he was a driven professional. 

Passionate about his vocation, he was never happier than when he was delivering the ‘nuts and bolts’ of music to a diverse bunch of pupils ranging from age eleven to eighteen. He loved to be involved with drawing them together; the talented, the not so talented, the completely untalented, (the downright pathetic) and often eking out of them achievement and performance that in many cases not only seemed unlikely, but often verged on the ‘mission impossible’ only a precious few weeks before an event. He loved the stress of the potential pending disaster and the fulfilment of salvaging it from the flames, sometimes only hours before public humiliation seemed unavoidable!

Perhaps it was a gift; a noble calling; a dedication and a bravery, to keep flying in the face of adversity and challenge the musically challenged (which seemed to include almost all of the pupils and the vast majority of his colleagues these days) in an environment that increasingly stated ‘Why do we want this?’ ‘What is it for?’ ‘Music isn't important any more - if it ever was!’ And whilst he still held his passion to teach, guide, mentor and support - with some common aims (intellectual understanding and development, and great musical performance) - he was becoming increasingly tired of facing another year of uphill struggle with inane arguments and common-room politics. Additionally, the continuing war of attempting to convince barely literate teenagers that a real understanding of the art of music would help them intellectually, without the necessary infrastructure support of academic backing, was in the end just too wearing. The foundations of resilience were crumbling, and had been for some time in truth, thus the drowning of sorrows last night prior to reengagement! 

Who was he kidding anyway? Some of the kids at Greater Barrows wouldn't recognise a glimmer of intellect if they tripped over it, fell on their backsides and sat in it! Mind you, most of the staff had clearly tripped over something long ago that they hadn't recognised either - they’d got their own heads completely buried somewhere as a result, and Frank wasn't convinced any of it was much to do with intellect - so perhaps the battle really was already lost! If you can't convince your peers who can you convince? Perhaps, in the end it wasn't a noble calling after all, he was just simply deluding himself - he was of little importance delivering a marginalised subject in a potentially futile environment - end of. 

Or, perhaps he was just ‘pompous and arrogant’ as some of his colleagues clearly thought he was? Actually, he’d given up caring what other staff thought of him a long time ago; he had to sit outside the box just to do what he had to do - if they didn't like him for it, tough! It didn't make him very collegial, but it got results for the kids, and that in the end was the bottom line. In retrospect though, drowning your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of whisky might raise your level of philosophy, but it wasn't very mature, didn’t cure anything, and it sure as hell bit back the next day with a stomping kick in the head.

He tried to focus on the dressing table (difficult) and brace himself for the final day of 'rest' before the inane struggle of INSET engulfed him tomorrow. He knew (or hoped) deep down that he'd be fine once he got there - Debbie always told him he would be, and she was right, (as she usually was about most things) so he knew really that once he got back into the thick of it he was always better off dealing with it, rather than dwelling on it in a grump. Even in his drunken stupor he knew that common sense would win through; he just wanted to prolong the inevitable as long as was humanly possible. 

Without Debbie he probably would have made a complete mess of most other things, so she was always worthy of his attention, and still the love of his life after nearly twenty years of marriage. He knew she could also be fairly intolerant of less than adult behaviour, and as he had the hangover of hangovers he hoped she would be kind and gentle as he heard her approach the bedroom!

"Come on Frank - try and open your eyes and get with it"!

Frank shielded himself from the egg-shell cracking vocalise - he perhaps needed to review whether this particular kind of attention was completely, unrequitedly worthy, at just this point in time, but he suspected Debbie wasn't going to retreat until he responded. Still, he tried to hide and pretend that neither of them were really there, in the vague hope that she might just go away.

"Frank! Stop curling up in defence; you are a long way from a foetus so stop behaving like one, and if you drink yourself stupid like an overdraft endowed student no-one else is to blame but you, you bloody idiot! It really is about time you grew up - so let’s start playing adults today should we? Come on Frank OPEN YOUR EYES! ABRE LOS OJOS!"

Frank moved slowly under the duvet and scrunched his eyes to withstand the onslaught of a new consciousness - the reality of almost full awakening. Gradually Debbie came into a misty, painful focus, her mock anger barely masking the humour on her face. She always loved it when he made an idiot of himself and she had remained the adult, as long as he pulled himself together quickly and didn't ruin the day!

"What time is it?"

"Getting up time. Time to rise oneself 'Oh mighty one' and display the role-modelling adulthood you hold so dear by presenting yourself forth amongst your children - in short, get your backside out of bed and fuddle your way downstairs so you can join us for breakfast! And do try not to embarrass yourself - we don't want to convince our babies that it's acceptable behaviour to get completely ‘off our faces’ just because we feel a little sorry for ourselves now do we? Five minutes Frank, or Jamie will be encouraged to show me how loud his speakers go with that Metallica track you love so much."

"Sorry love....." he whispered as the door swung shut. Grounded, resourceful and in control - that was his wife. It was one of the things he loved about her the most, even if he would have preferred to remain just where he was for another somnolent hour or so. He attempted a deep breath and eased his body to a better position so he could slip over the edge of the bed, and gently - ever so gently - plunged himself into the beginnings of a new day, teetering on the edge of the precipice that would become a new academic year.

Two

Frank slumped down in his usual chair at the kitchen table - Jamie to his right, Evelyn to his left; Debbie busy as always making sure everyone had what they wanted, munching on some toast and pouring the coffee. Familial bliss thwarted only by the pounding headache and the desire to hide in a cave.

"Hey Dad - good night last night?"

Jamie, mid adolescent, growing fast, hormonally poised for the onslaught of adulthood and well prepared for the hot, cool, mega and thus noisy package, in which it all too often arrives!

A talented musician who had drifted to bass guitar rather than trombone for obvious reasons, even though he still studied both. His focus of attention in general was on what was 'in' and things which had a more instant appeal than looking at the bigger picture - but then at just fifteen, he had no more idea than anyone what the bigger picture might even be, so why waste 'now time' looking for it? Like a true Eastern philosopher (and the majority of adolescents who seem to either become ever closer to Enlightenment, or irretrievably distanced from it) Jamie lived for the now - the immediate now; the instant now.

"Dad? You know it's like the last day of the summer and I kinda wanted to get that game working that Jack gave me, but you said we probably need a new graphics card coz the computer is like just so OLD.... and you said at the start of the summer that maybe we could think about getting one and now it's like the last day? If we got is sorted today I could still get tomorrow while all the teachers try to remember what to do to teach kids and that'd be really cool, and like we have had like all summer to fix it? Possible? Given that we have spent virtually the whole time not at home?"

Frank shifted the angle of his head in his hands and squinted at his son with a painful grimace forging around his jaw; there was some humour in it, but only that of the wry, black, persecuting kind. Still, as engagement was clearly necessary, and if light banter allayed the prospect of imminent action, then engage he must. 

"Are you mine? Are you really the product of these loins? If you were the caring, loving first born heir, I know you would consider your father's position above all else, and gently allow this day to pass without incident or request. Your father has a headache."

"It's not my fault you got pissed with Phil last night; you promised to look at........"

Before Frank could even find a syllable for response Debbie stepped in to restore order.

"James William, we do NOT speak like that in this house - apologise right now."

"Sorreee...... it's just I...."

"And it's Mr. Bryce to you please, not Phil."

Frank and Debbie knew only too well that whilst Frank was 'Dad' and 'kinda cool' as an accepted ‘street-cred' music teacher in 'teen world', Phil, as a drum kit and electric guitar teacher, was quite simply a hero, and often thought of as one of the gang by many of the pupils - albeit an adult and authoritative one. Sometimes the edges of the staff/pupil relationships could get a little blurry and it was always a useful reminder to both kids that friends and family were also staff at their school! 

"We know what you want Jamie, and it may or may not be possible - I would prefer you to be outside most of the next two days; the weather’s okay for once and I would love some help in the garden......"

"I would be outside some of the time - Jack wants to go ride the trail through the woods, but Dad said he'd realign the gears on my bike and I've still got that slow puncture - you know I came off last time and you told me I couldn't go till it was all fixed - I thought it was safer to stay in and work the computer; I don't want to get injured just before school starts again!"

"Jamie, that is emotional blackmail - stop now! We'll talk about it and see what plan there is for today - now finish your breakfast and contemplate the need for putting the hoover around your room - when that's done we can talk."

A sulky glower and a poetic eye roll terminated with a fixed pleading stare at Frank across the table. Frank gave an apologetic, understanding smile and gentle shoulder shrug, none of it lost on Debbie who caught Frank's eye to prompt a response. 

"Let your mum and me have a chat, and see if I can sort some of it out - no promises, and who knows if I can get a graphics card - the things dilapidated anyway; it may be easier to just buy a new computer. (Instantly clear positive reaction from Jamie) But that's not the point - I hate you wasting your time playing computer games when you could be doing something creative, which is why I always stall when you ask, which you know full well"

Jamie resigned himself to the remainder of his breakfast.

Frank gently moved his gaze to his left - Evelyn was occupied with a page from a teen magazine in addition to breakfast. 

"Are you going to cause me stress today my sweet, or is all well in Evie world?"

"I think your day already looks like it got wrecked Daddy, and you know I wouldn't want to make it worse, even though it was probably your own fault. But I do still need my speakers fixed to the wall... I was going to ask but it can wait if you don't mind doing the DIY during term time?" 

Evelyn, thirteen years and three months old. A summer baby, a Sunday child, a young clone of the wife he adored, and a young lady who was discovering fast how to get what she wanted from the male of the species. She knew he hated DIY at all times of course, but he always procrastinated after work or at weekends - usually things got done during the school breaks, but that window had been missed more and more recently as they chose to spend their holidays in their recently acquired bolt hole in Spain.

Frank turned his attention to his daughter - innocent, naively sweet, and loaded with an ability at gentle manipulation that could make world leaders look like novices. He knew that care was needed here or this trait could escalate disproportionately over the next few years. Frank gave her what he thought was his knowing and understanding look, accompanied by an acquiescing half smile.

"Don't you worry about it Daddy - you know I wanted to listen to some of those music extracts you're going to set for us this term that's all - only coz I always feel a bit weird in class if I don't know stuff and I'm like, your daughter! Whenever- no big deal; they're on the iPod anyway."

Frank nodded in gentle agreement - he should have fixed the speakers weeks ago, but he needed to be careful not to mark a minor triumph to Evelyn and further deflate Jamie. Tricky stuff this parenting - particularly with a pounding head and intelligent children; their creative, flexible minds not yet completely glued solid and incapable by their immersion in modern education. Perhaps his musical genes would save them? He could hope!

"Okay kids, leave poor Daddy alone so I can fill him with coffee and see if we have a human rather than a zombie in the house. Go on - scoot!"

Jamie made a bit of a show of being in a minor huff but clearly the mention of any new hardware was a real positive, so he was happy to leave things as they were, and helping mum in the garden did seem at least to have been forgotten. Evie stood from the table and tipped to kiss Frank on his forehead.

"I love you Dad, and we're all a bit sad the summer's over - I know you don't want to go back to work, but hey, at least you get to teach me - look on the bright side!”

With a cheery smile, a bounce in her step, the easy vocal delivery of the chorus from the latest hit single, and a toss of her pony tail she was gone.

Debbie sat down nursing her coffee mug.

"What was all that about a new computer? You know you hate him playing games and I don't think you are going to convince him to use it like you want Frank."

"I know. You're probably right. But I do feel I've let them down a bit this summer, and we aren't keeping up with technology. We should have a plan really ‘love it or loath it!’ Jamie's going to start course-work this year and if we don't get him a laptop he is going to need something he can work on at home. He's chosen GCSE music because of his ability, so we probably should have something that can run the software a bit better, and it would probably help me as well....."

"Sounds to me like you've been thinking about this for a while - don't remember the conversation though..."

"Sorry love, I know we haven't had a chat about it, but you know I have been hedging over upgrading the computer. It might just be better to buy a new one that copes with the next few years. We should think about it I suppose, and I probably have been working it through without saying anything."

"What do you want to eat?"

Frank knew that Debbie had probably been quietly accepting the same thing, and her changing the subject was, whilst not quite acquiescing, wasn't disagreeing either. A conversation would follow, and as was usual in their relationship, an agreed plan formed, and a course of action pursued, even if there was sometimes a marginal element of reluctance in the decision.

"Toast, marmalade, cappuccino, three egg omelette with sautéed mushrooms and some............."

She grabbed his hair as she stood and kissed him on top of his head.

"I'll make you some toast. You know where the eggs are."

"I'd better check my email to look at the time for INSET tomorrow - probably something stupid like eight o'clock. What should we do later?"

"Well, once you've recovered a bit let’s go for a walk - we need to talk about this computer stuff and once you get back to work you spend too much time indoors, and let’s face it - the fresh air will do you good!. Then let’s see how it goes - we've got to decide on supper and make a start on getting the kids ready for school - but I've got tomorrow to sort that, so no panic. Last day of just the family, so just enjoy it, and maybe do a couple of those jobs for the kids - if you can with a hangover of course?”

“Better make that two paracetamol as well as the toast...!"

*

Later, once they'd returned from one of their favourite walks, beyond a puncture repair, shortly after the holes had been drilled and the speakers mounted on their brackets, and whilst the final stages of an early supper was developing its flavour in the oven, Frank booted up the computer in the study.

"How long does this bloody thing take?"

"Frank!"

"Sorry love, but it’s a complete pain........ 

Frank opened his work email account to confirm his fears.

"Oh here we go......... you’re joking……. Yep I was so right, typical Peter White and his  mercenary attitude - I can hear him now - "you've all had six weeks holiday so I know you are all itching to get back into it" - he's put INSET to start at eight o'clock - eight o' bloody clock; I just knew he would - complete tosser!"

"Frank!"

"Sorry love - but he is! You don't have to work with him; I can guarantee he's a complete and utter .........!"

"Frank!"

 

Three

 

Frank walked into the common room and headed for his pigeon hole - he could already see the usual clutter of paper stuffing it full. Without even looking at it closely he could predict at least three copies of the time table, tutor group lists, class lists, examination result statistics, year twelve final options lists, tutee time tables, assessment data, new assessment criteria, annual reporting schedule, inspection preparation information and protocols, PSHE schedule and information, SEN needs and information, new pupil information, and somewhere - somewhere amongst all of it - should be fairly near the top - no not that one - or that - aha, here we go, yep, got it - a single sheet of A4 paper - INSET schedule. At least he could dispense with one piece of paper once the day was through!

It had been the same for the last three years; ever since Peter White had been appointed as Director of Studies, replacing a retiring colleague whom Frank had worked with really successfully. The post these days seemed to depend more on the ability to generate statistics, tick boxes and produce copious paperwork for staff (so that everything complied with current legislation, could be measured, and could be presented to a bunch of old, failed headmasters, who happened to have taken an inspector training course so they could pretend they were still useful to education - if they ever had been in the first place of course!) rather than guiding them (the staff that is) to vocational greatness, and actually checking that they were doing their job properly - actually teaching at a high level all the time, not just when an observer sits in the room!

The whole inspection process in particular seemed to be based on the assumption that ‘if there is evidence….. it is good’, and ‘if there is none… it is bad’ - it drove Frank mad! Scientists and mathematicians measuring ‘good education’ as if it were two plus two. Whatever happened to aesthetics? Whatever happened to creativity? Didn't they know you can show great statistics by having children primed for every test you do - which now seemed to be expected and 'parent law' anyway? 

"Oh look - my set all got between eighty and ninety two percent... Wonder how!"

Frank had always done all he could to reflect the progress and high standards of his pupils, but not all pupils were able enough to succeed at the highest level all of the time. In music, the diversity of talent simply cannot be hidden - even the simple idea that all pupils 'ought' to be able to pass a GCSE in the subject by the end of year eleven falls completely by the wayside - in general a music teacher is simply unable to accept a pupil on the GCSE course unless they are already fairly established as a musician and have a solid knowledge and background of the subject; no bones about it, to a degree academic music is an elitist subject. To pass a GCSE in it you just have to be a fairly able musician - there is unfortunately no getting around it - but due to its general lack of focused importance as a subject throughout education, particularly as delivered to the younger age groups, by the time pupils reached year nine, only the minority would ever be able to opt for music as an examination subject in their more senior years. Even then, some of those eligible would be deterred in favour of an alternative that ‘might be more beneficial in the future’.

Until creativity itself became viewed as a more important element of education, and statistics and the obsession with ‘measuring’ ebbed, Frank knew he had to accept that little was going to change and he would just have to try to comply. This was the area of his job that was giving him the most grief - seeing a talented innovative child become a stunted number cruncher, just because some government protocol dictated that certain subjects - Maths, Science and English - were more important than all others. One look at the paperwork now stuffing his pigeon-hole confirmed it all - bureaucrats were far more concerned that teachers should dedicate the majority of their time, and prove their worth, by filling in lots of paper, rather than actually guiding and dedicating themselves to the pupils. Completely mad. And Peter White was absolutely the worst bureaucrat of them all!

"Hey Frank! How was the summer?"

Adrian Jackson - Head of Art, a generally nice guy but a bit highly strung, prone to tantrums, liked his own way, single, mid forties, very 'arty', but most importantly, helped fight the good fight for The Arts against what could often be the heaving mass of the opposition. Frank considered Adrian a true ally amongst the staff and one of the few colleagues he might actually call 'friend', albeit that Adrian was completely private about his own life, almost to the point of recluse. Frank had often invited him round when they had a gathering at home, but Adrian had yet to accept. Frank guessed that Adrian was the talented typical homosexual artist, and as such was not amongst the 'in crowd' of the staff, but like Frank, he functioned on the periphery with great sensitivity and understanding, and held unrivalled dedication and professional integrity. Frank was glad he and Adrian shared the same corner, even though it added to the potentially feminine illusion of music as a weak artsy subject - mostly for girls in the eyes of some staff and an unfortunately large number of the boy pupils! Where on earth did this perception come from anyway? Bullies probably! Inadequate, uncreative homophobic brawlers who had to make their mark somehow, and had previously discovered they themselves were inept within the Arts! If you can't hack it, diss it!

"Hi Adrian. Good; it was good. Just seems to fly by all too quickly and suddenly you're back here with reams of paper!"

"I know - in a couple of weeks it will seem like we never had a break at all; better not to dwell on it I think! Did you escape to Mallorca and reinvent your cultural and artistic self?"

"Oh, absolutely! I couldn't live without it now; I actually think it's the only way I stay sane, and you're right, the culture is still so vibrant. Actually there was an incredible art installation in the local town where they host an arts festival through the summer; early days but we must have a serious chat about it - I've been having some ideas and I think we could do something really great with the kids..... What about we have an 'arts meeting' in the next couple of days and pool some ideas?"

"Okay, but I have got most of the term planned out already..."

"I know, I know, and I knew you would have things in place already, no worries, but I think I can fit in musically with almost anything you have, for what I have in mind. Let's just have a collective chat and see if we can draw things together across the arts; make an even greater impact - you know how we're always being asked to 'combine department work' - well I think this could fix it really easily."

"Okay, let's compare timetables later and see if we can find a common time towards the end of the week; I've got a new teach......."

"Hello Frank, Adrian, how was the world of flawed aesthetics over the summer? Guiding you both to a beautiful truth I do hope? Did you pop off to Spain again Frank, in your little bolt hole?"

Peter, bloody White - always full of interrupted self importance.

"Mallorca Peter. We spend our summers on Mallorca."

"Ah, yes." Accompanied with an all knowing, smirky chuckle.

"Madjorca! - Brits abroad, live entertainment, discos, karaoke - right up your street Frank - a bit like a refresher course every summer; keeps you on the edge!"

"You show your ignorance Peter - The island of Mallorca, spoken Mayorca, is one of the most beautiful places in Europe, considered by many to be amongst the top most beautiful places in the world - the Sunday Times did a review on it recently, and they seemed to agree. We live there out of choice, instead of living here - as much as we can! The food is real, not plastic - actually pulled from the neighbouring farms; the weather is amazing - Mediterranean actually; and the people are nicer - more balanced - less polite at times, but in an earthy grounded way that has a certain brutal honesty about it. Not the affected ‘know it all, holier than thou’ smug kind of way we see so much of here back in the UK! So its a refreshing change actually.”

Adrian slipped away with a nod of acknowledgement to them both. He had no interest in disparaging jibes at any time, but certainly not so early in a new term - Frank had never quite learned not to rise to the bait and Peter was a seasoned fisherman simply enjoying his weekend sport.

“I’m sure it’s a lovely place, I simply cannot imagine what you actually do there for six weeks... Living out of a suitcase in little more than a hotel room..."

"We live there Peter - that's where we call home; that's where we leave quite a lot of our belongings. One day we might actually live there permanently."

"Crazy to me Frank - where you work is where you live. Where you go on vacation should provide diverse experiences, not a place where you just pay more bills, see the same sights, and visit the same shops! You should widen your horizons a bit; keep yourself fresh - help the family to expand their knowledge - visit some different places when you get a break.”

"I think we all stay pretty fresh Peter, and not entrenched and blinkered. Not difficult to go on holiday from Mallorca - just a paradigm some people with closed minds could find tricky to grasp. By the way, is there a real reason for starting INSET at eight o'clock, or did desperate 'holiday boredom' get the better of you? You should find yourself a bolt hole Peter, a place where you can step away and relax a bit - ease some of that frustration, help lighten the load.”

"I'm right where I want to be Frank, and who needs nearly seven weeks holiday really? Today is a planned normal working day - no reason to start any later. Back to the real world - structure and rigour - not the hazy, lazy basking of artists and musicians! Ah, there's Jason, I need to catch him before we start. Glad you're back refreshed and sharp Frank; you’ll need to stay alert these next few days to keep up!”

Then he was gone; more important conversations to be had. 

Frank cursed himself inwardly for his inability to pass off the likes of Peter White; he just couldn't help himself and knew that in the long run the repartee didn't do him any good. He was too easily drawn, and after talking to just two colleagues was already wound up, and it was only seven fifty in the morning. Pathetic. He went to go and chat with a few others to quell his irritation, and see if he could find his new assistant, Clare, before the day got fully underway with the joys of the full staff-meeting.

Typical Peter bloody White. It had taken him less than five minutes and Frank already felt like he needed to be anywhere other than right where he was. Welcome back!

*

Frank took a seat off to one side but fairly close to the front of the assembled staff; The Headmaster, Dave Grimshaw, liked to hold his staff meetings in a semi round - he was a fair man and the opinions of his staff mattered to him, whilst he still maintained the firm control to make clear decisions. Frank sometimes felt he had a need to chip in over certain matters of policy, so he always positioned himself clearly within  Dave’s sightline.

As he removed his wristwatch and placed it on the table in front of him, alongside his notes, The Headmaster took his seat with Peter White on one side and Nicola, the school administrator, on the other taking minutes.

"Good morning everyone; welcome back! - I trust we all had a relaxing summer break and are refreshed and ready to launch into a new year? A few changes, which will become clear as the day unfolds, but first to introduce our new staff members to you; then we'll have a report back on the summer trips and activities.......So, joining the science department we have ........."

The staff introductions continued and Frank tried to take in the new names and faces. He was amazed every year at how young some of the new teachers looked - barely older than the out-going sixth formers it seemed - he couldn't believe that he'd probably looked the same when he'd started teaching. It sometimes made him feel quite old and seasoned, but also glad in a way that he now had the experience to know what to take seriously and what to pay lip service to - with the exception of certain Director’s of Studies! A staff common room meeting could be a very intimidating place to be for new, young teachers on the first day of a new school year; Frank decided to make a real effort to go and have a chat with each new teacher to introduce himself, and make the offer of using him as a sounding board for the hundreds of questions new staff would inevitably have.

The meeting paced through predictably along the usual amicable feedback until Dave turned his attention to matters academic, and in particular preparations for the upcoming inspection in the New Year.

“So, I'll now hand over to Peter to brief you on examination results, assessments, reporting, documentation and how we will be spending the rest of the day through INSET."

Peter stood and positioned himself at the side of the desk in front of Dave - Frank became irritated immediately as the move blocked half the staff from Dave's site line. It could of course have been just careless unawareness by Peter, but Frank knew that wasn't true - everything Peter did was calculated and potentially manipulative - a sycophant when necessary but an opportunist first and foremost. Peter saw himself in the Headmasters chair either here or somewhere else before too long, and he didn't seem overly concerned about who had to be walked over to get there. Frank tried to quell his irritation and annoyance - even the smallest actions from this man were prompting instant fury and irrational reactions! 

"Just ignore it Frank...." He told himself, as he tried to focus on what Peter was actually spouting on about.

"............so the mean of the collated results across the board versus the predicated mean from the full cohort MidYis tested projections was actually an increase of nought point five of a grade; this indicates a value added based on expectation, that was actually reflected within our internal assessment data, clearly defining pupil tracking targets throughout year eleven."

Mark Clayton, Head of PE and often the one to voice a humorous quip (Frank felt it went with the turf - overly sporty guys exerting a bit of Alpha Male humour) couldn't resist the opportunity.

"Peter, does that mean we got the kids half a grade higher than expected in some cases, but we already knew we were likely to?"

There was a collective chuckle around the room - most of the staff shared the sentiment that stating the obvious wrapped up in fancy terminology was killing the profession, and was, in many ways, a shameful waste of time and talent.

"Yes Mark, that is exactly what it means." Peter was clearly a little irritated by the impertinence but wasn't going to have his stride altered by anyone.

"But we need to aim for a one rather than a nought point five. A one ensures that all pupils will gain a grade higher than we predicted they would get when tested at year nine. That is to be our target boundary for the upcoming year, and I will be meeting with each HOD individually over the next few weeks to set out what arrangements we will make within each subject to achieve this, as a foremost priority across the board.”

No-one felt like making a funny comment after that - all the humour seemed to have evaporated. In fact, all the positive ions seemed to have been sucked out of the room altogether! Mark felt the need though, for a pertinent comment.

"Peter, we all know that last years Year Ten, which will now be Year Eleven, are just not as bright as the Year Elevens we've just had - how do you think we're going to lift their grades higher than they are capable of?"

"That is why I need to speak to each HOD; to implement a successful strategy, as necessary, to ensure these results. Yes, it may mean we all work harder; yes, it may mean certain students have a curtailed activity programme; yes, it may mean we revise extra curricular activities; yes, it may mean we look carefully at any academic time loss - fixtures, trips, matches etc. One thing is clear; if we are to achieve our aim with this year group, we need to implement a strategy in October, and we all need to realise that this is the most important thing on our current agenda's to ensure our reputation as a school continues. Now, we need to move on today, so I won't take questions on this at present, but all HOD's can talk it through when we meet tomorrow."

This was fairly typical; don't engage in debate but pick off smaller numbers or even individual staff one by one - Frank sometimes wondered why they bothered with staff meetings at all; why not just send an email outlining what was going to happen if you couldn't discuss it?

"For the remainder of today we need to get started on our collective self assessment tasking." Continued Peter in his usual seamless outpouring.

"So I have assigned you each to a group, and nominated a chairperson. You each have areas to discuss and paperwork questionnaires to complete based around a variety of topics; pastoral care, management effectiveness, governance, curriculum issues, time table effectiveness etc., which you will discuss through the next two sessions; then we will have a full plenary session at the end of the day where you can give feedback. That gets us off on the right track at the start of the year, and helps us focus on how we can improve in general, with us all following the same path. The list of groups is on the common room board with the room where your group will be based, and I will pop round to each group through the day to see how you're getting on. Thank you Headmaster."

Frank just hated this stuff. In the end, anything controversial would be ignored anyway, and most staff would feel they had to be politically correct, so they watered down their arguments - certainly on paper. It would almost certainly end as a mediocre reflection of the school as a whole, and thus a pointless exercise in his view. Last year an analyst company was hired to survey the parents, and gain honest feedback (another expensive Peter White idea - these things don't come cheap!) and whilst the majority of parents simply did not respond, eleven percent did. The results were then collated and those views expressed as useable data. 'Sixty percent of our parents would like to see more X or Y...' Well excuse me, but sixty percent of eleven percent is about seven percent of the actual total - so not very many then! This apparently wasn't an issue, and any evidence was just used to implement change - usually by Peter - so he could make his mark. It didn't even seem to matter if there was no real benefit for the pupils, in fact it was often the opposite; the pupils could well be disadvantaged as long as the protocols were followed and the paperwork was in order.

Frank listened and groaned inwardly to himself as Dave tied up the initial proceedings. What had 'modern education' become? The day was going to be dull and pointless just so a box could be ticked - yep, we had a full staff self-assessment day. Whoopee..! He lifted himself from his seat and headed for another cup of coffee, straddling the fence between downright anarchy or barely manageable abeyance. As always, he knew he would make himself 'tow the line', but it was becoming more and more difficult to comply, and he wasn't even sure he could find the humour in it anymore. He just felt a bit weary of it all - wasn't he supposed to have enthusiasm at the start of a new year? How did it all get beaten out of him so quickly - was it him that had changed, or was it the unnecessary apparent piousness of bureaucracy? Whatever it was, Frank knew he was borderline rebellious and would have to work hard to hold his tongue in these first few days and weeks. Too much time with his own thoughts and relative sanity over the summer perhaps; time now to buckle up, drive safe, and keep inside the speed limit - although the temptation to break away from the traffic queue, nip off down a side road, and find that unhindered, open country lane was an itch almost impossible not to scratch.

"Just stay calm Frank!" He told himself as he made it to the coffee machine and stabbed the button for a double espresso.

September

 

Four

 

Debbie unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm. She would use the morning to take stock of any deliveries and make a start on putting things in order again. It was now almost a decade since she had taken over as manager at 'Novel Ideas', the rather quaint bookshop in town, and last remnant of a bygone shopping era. Grace, the owner and founder, had benefitted from a wealthy husband and a dedicated clientele over some forty year period, and whilst the shop still generated a small but handsome profit she saw no reason to sell anytime soon. She had run the shop solo through to her late sixties, when her husband’s failing health dictated two things - greater time at home to care for him, and the realisation that rather than read about life through literature, it was probably time to enjoy what was left of her own before it was too late! 

Debbie had been a regular customer who greatly respected Grace's manner and style, and was genuinely flattered when Grace (out of the blue) asked if she would be interested in helping run the shop part-time. It became the perfect scenario, with Debbie gradually becoming full-time after a few years and now, ten years on, the sole manager of the shop, albeit respectful of, and with full compliance to Grace’s wishes. Over the years, the turnover had increased with some new initiatives, and Debbie was able to employ two part-time assistants of her own, which gave her total flexibility over her hours and the ability to take school holidays as necessary - always the difficulty with any job when married to a teacher!

The only downside of taking a long summer vacation was the sorting, stocking and bookkeeping required after several weeks of turnover and new deliveries. Her two temps., Lizzie and Julian were great, and although Julian could be a little unreliable, (early twenties, would-be writer, trying to write first novel, often distracted by frustration and partying) Lizzie more than compensated with her grounded reliability. She ran her own online business and was seemingly happy to bring a laptop into the shop twenty four seven if need be, reckoning she could focus on her own stuff during the quiet periods without customers - as long as Debbie didn't mind that some core elements of running the shop (stocking shelves etc.) were pretty much neglected. The ‘manning the fort’ arrangement generally worked well, but with the stock and accounts left solely to Debbie, she now had weeks to catch up on. Not that she minded - she actually liked working the spreadsheets and made it a real source of pride that she was able to budget effectively, and took a genuine joy in reporting back to Grace with solvent news.

With regard to the stock (the books themselves) and how they were presented on the shelves, that was her real passion - she just loved books, and seeing them in an ordered fashion. She took real consideration in how the books were organised, and made every effort to have the shelves displayed as an excellent library rather than a bookstore. Easy access to literature and information, and a knowledge of the materials on offer is what kept their clientele using them above the many and easier alternatives. With constantly changing titles and the need for current 'bestsellers' to have a clear impact, it was always a challenge to know what to place where, particularly after a long period away, with many new works. Debbie knew this would keep her busy for weeks and was still freshly excited to see which books had made it into print, or which authors were 'on a roll'. Her job gave her complete access to what she loved most - a great story well written, or a clear argument well defined.

She worked through the morning with a smattering of customers and lifted many of the slightly older titles off the shelves into neat piles, still in alphabetical order and was just considering a lunch break when the door 'chimed in' a customer.

"Hello Debbie. I thought you'd probably be back on duty today with term starting. How was the summer?"

"Hi John - do you know how much I love the reliability of some of our customers? I’ve had a hunch you’d pop in all morning! And the summer was excellent thank you - I just always feel for Frank when it's over and he has to get through these first few weeks back; he finds it harder each year, even though he loves what he does really."

"Ah, yes - the myth of modern education! He struggles because he is an artist who is guided by emotional response and believes 'creativity' - the process of original meaningful ideas - is important to the human race; and in particular children. How radical would it be to allow children in education to actually have access to the kind of problem solving skills and development that might actually make a difference? Dangerous talk - it could change the world! It’s the reason I retired early, as you well know, but do tell Frank he isn't wrong - the world needs people like him if there is any chance of the race making it to the twenty second century!"

"It's all too political for me John, I just try to encourage him to stick at it for the kids’ sake - it's the bureaucracy that kills him the most, and I know I don't need to convince you of that!"

John Hardy had retired early from Frank's school three years earlier, stepping down from the position of Director of Studies which he had held for over a decade. As an English language specialist he had also been the driving force behind many of the drama productions in collaboration with the drama department, and had often drafted in Frank to co-produce a musical or at least have some incidental music crafted into the performances. The period was still viewed by many as something of a 'Golden Era' of arts productions at Greater Barrows, due in no small part to the drive and vision of John as a man who understood all sides of education, not just the box ticking. 

It was one of Frank's saddest days at work when he learned of John's intention to resign and retire early, and in reality, he hadn't embraced any changes or 'innovations' since.

"So no obvious signs of improvement at the start of the new year then?"

"No John, I actually think its worse. Frank was saying last night that everything has gone assessment mad and the bid for excellence is all based around evidence and statistics. They are asking the impossible by demanding higher grades from a weaker year group next year and expecting the staff to drop all else to achieve it!"

"Madness! Complete bloody 'head in the sand' madness! It should all be about value added in general terms, not constantly higher results - Greater Barrows got great reviews for what they achieved this year; maintaining it will be difficult enough! That man White seems to be an arrogant ladder climber, more concerned with his own CV stats. than actually the vital holistic education of the children in his care. It sounds to me like he'll push those poor kids to misery and failure next summer, not success. And all in a bid for what? Marginally higher statistics?”

"That's what Frank says - he's so worried they won't allow the year elevens and thirteens to take part in any of the wider education on offer, and you know what that means? No play involvement, no music ensembles, possibly a reduced activity programme altogether. He's very down about it all. But I know I'm preaching to the converted - sorry, I shouldn't bore you with the on-going saga; I know that's why you left teaching...... How can I help you anyway? Is there a new book you fancy?"

“Yes, yes - we'll come to that. And you’re right, I did get fed up with the constant politics - life is much rosier now - however, whilst it is indeed why I left teaching a tad early, don't forget Frank and I were great allies through our time together. If he needs any help please do remind him I am only the other end of a telephone, or he could always pop round. You know, he should find a way to vent his frustration constructively - he has some great ideas and I'm certain he still has that innovative inspiration; it's what draws the pupils to him. He should channel his anger into making a statement somehow - write some music, or do a paper to submit to the education council. Even write a text book about how to deliver composition to untalented pupils - something, anything, as a channel for self expression. Tell him from me to do something positive, and 'don't let the buggers get him down!' 

“Now, the real reason I'm here, and on precisely the same subject as it happens, is that I understand Sir Ken Robinson may be about to publish another masterpiece of common sense which will demand my attention - launch date in October - would you do me the honour of pre-ordering a copy?”

“Let's have a little look on the system to see what we have...... I'll tell him to give you a call soon John, it always makes him feel a bit better when he knows he isn't alone out there, and he really does miss you being around! Now, lets see..... Okay, yep here it is - due out mid-October - if I pre-order it, it’ll be here by launch date, okay? Silly question! I'll just get the order book - give me a minute."

*

After a short break for lunch Debbie had just about managed to arrange most of the titles in 'Science Fiction', both old and new, in the areas close to where they would be shelved. She was down on hands and knees in the section when she heard the door 'chime in' a customer. She continued arranging the stacks for a couple of minutes to allow the customer to browse and then made her way back to the counter area to see if any assistance was needed. Strangely, there was no one in sight - some of the shelves were shoulder height, but it would be most unusual for a child to have come in either unaccompanied, or at this time of day - she went to investigate.

The first evidence of 'a presence' hit her as she rounded the corner of 'British History' and moved down to the 'Social and Environmental' section. The air was filled with a woody, slightly soapy smell, with a hint of ginger a bit like freshly baked biscuits - at least that's how she described it to herself later when she tried to conjure it up again to remind herself. The second piece of evidence was a shuffling noise on the other side of the bookcase, somewhere in the 'Journalism' section, accompanied by some gentle low murmuring, and the sound of books being piled on top of each other. Debbie moved around the end of the aisle swiftly, speaking as she rounded the corner.

"Can I help you find what you're looking for?"

Startled, the man stumbled onto his backside from a crouching position, still holding a book in each hand. Whilst he must have been around mid to late thirties, the loss of composure and look of helplessness made him appear as the child he had once been. Debbie couldn't help but smile and give a little chuckle at the poor man's embarrassment.

"I am so sorry - I really didn't mean to startle you like that, I just couldn't see anyone was there. Is there anything in particular I can help you with - getting up perhaps?" 

The man looked up at her with a resigned slightly crestfallen expression.

"No, I'm fine right here; sittin' on my butt in the middle of an English bookstore, just trying to find something inspiring to read…..! Impressive so far wouldn't you say? Do you always try and spook your customers by sneakin' up on them like that?"

He'd said it with a grin and amusement in his eyes, and then moved (very gracefully actually) to standing up. Tall, lean, slightly rough shaven, wavy dark blond hair, comfortable natural clothes, and a real intelligence behind his easy manner; and that smell - provoked again as he moved - soft, warm gingerbread!

"I am so sor...."

"Mike. My name's Mike, and yes I'm an American."

Debbie shook his offered hand and was immediately conscious of it’s warmth; it’'s strength; that she held it for just a bit too long; that she would happily hold it again; that she was suddenly not speaking; that she was staring inanely at his face.

She quickly let go and tried to regain some composure.

"I'm Debbie; I work here."

For a moment there was silence as he just looked directly at her, Debbie trying and failing not to keep catching his eye, wondering what on earth her hands were now for, and what to do with them. Then thankfully, he spoke and a degree of normality returned.

"Gathered. I would love it if you could help me find 'Into Danger by Kate Adie'. Been told its a must read, but your books all seem to be in big piles on the floor...... rather than on the shelves? So I was just going through what seemed to be the 'A' pile."

"Sorry  - again. Just in the middle of sorting out new stock. Let’s see if I can find you a copy."

It was now Debbie's turn to get down on her knees, which made her feel oddly self conscious and too aware of the potential embarrassment near this comfortable man; her emotions were in quick-fire confusion, jumping from amused interaction to heart-racing excitement in a nano-second! Her instinct shouted loud and clear ‘Run like hell girl…..this guy is causing serious vulnerability and loss of control..’ Mike it seemed, was only too aware of her discomfort, and immediately dropped back down in a crouch beside her.

"Here, let’s sort it out together."

They worked through the titles, finding a couple of other books by Adie, but not the one Mike was looking for. Debbie had time to compose herself as they checked through each book.

"No. It looks like we don't have it at the moment - let me go and check the computer."

Debbie was pulling up the search information as Mike moved around the bookshelves and headed for the counter. She watched him gently approach with an easy, calm gait.

"My God." She thought.

"Heaven help me - a beautiful sexy man stalking me in my own shop!"

"We don't have it at the moment, but I can get a copy in three days if you're happy to call back in?"

"I don't think I'd have a problem with that - give me something to look forward to."

"If you like I could take your number and give you a call to confirm delivery - save you wasting the trip if it gets delayed?”

Mike took out a pen and started scribbling on a piece of paper torn out of a notebook he produced from his bag.  

"Now that's what I call customer service - here you go, that's my cell phone number. Okay, see you in a few days. You know though, it wouldn't be a wasted trip in any case; book late or not."

And then he was gone, with a real smile and playful joy in his eyes. Debbie sat on the chair behind the counter and tried to go through each second of the previous few minutes. Tried to work out what, if anything, had actually happened........, and tried to catch hold of the aroma she could still faintly detect - softly baked gingerbread. 

A real live gingerbread man! 

All accompanied by a suspicious tiny pang of guilt. 

Actually more than a tiny pang.

Wow…….!

She would have to be a little selective when she relayed the days events to Frank! 

No point in overreacting and raising concerns over nothing.

Five

Frank was running late and he needed to get to 'Novel Ideas' before closing time to collect Debbie as planned. Traffic was a little heavy, but instead of his usual frustration at being held up, he found himself humming and staying quite calm - all in all it had been an entertaining and surprising day.

A challenging afternoon with two year eight classes, an 'episode' with Clare, and a longer than planned meeting of the arts faculty had extended the day by more than an hour; he was pleased it had ended on a positive note, particularly after the emotional distress displayed by his new assistant just before the afternoon session got under way!

Frank had returned from lunch, and as he approached the music rooms he heard distressed noises coming from Clare's classroom.

" Come off, come off! Please come off...!"

  He went to investigate and found Clare, fraught with tears, desperately scrubbing the brand new white board he'd had installed in her room; she was sobbing at the board as she frantically scrubbed and applied cleaner, which only created more and more coloured mess all over the board. Her shriek-like sobs reached fever pitch and the white board was filled with a swirling mass of red, blue and green ink in a chaotic display of abstract.

"Come off, come off, come ooo.............ff!"

Frank coughed as he moved further into the room.

"Clare? Are you okay? Are you having some problems?"

Clare swung around and dropped the cloth and solvent and seemed to freeze and crumble at the same time in front of his eyes.

"Oh Frank! I am so sorry - I am so stupid. I must have used the wrong pen and I know how proud you were of the new white boards and literally in the first week I've ruined one because I'm such an idiot and I can't get the ink off and I can't get the lesson plan on there for the next class and I don't know what to do and they'll be here in five minutes and.."

"Clare; Clare, hey - just calm down - slow down. One step at a time."

Frank moved over to her with his hands open in a gesture of peace and perched on the edge of a desk to survey the full carnage. Clare didn't seem to calm so much as actually visibly sag, as her energy appeared to drain away, leaving her sullen and deflated.

"I'm so sorry Frank - I really think I've ruined it. Of course I'll pay for a new one straight away."

"Hang on, hang on! Lets first see if we can assess the damage and see what went wrong. Show me the pens you used - as far as I know they are all just the 'provided' kosher white board pens- we shouldn't have any indelible pens kicking around."

"It was these!" said Clare, handing Frank the offending pens.

"Well......, they look like the right animal to me - and it does say 'white board marker' so maybe we have a defective white board? Lets have a look shall we?"

Frank moved over to the board and prodded a finger on the surface.

"I know that with mine, that they fitted it…, but left all the packaging around it so that I had to pull it all off myself! I suppose..... you did remove the polythene protective covering before you used it the first time?"

Clare looked at Frank with a mixture of sheepish bewilderment and a glimmer of vague hope.

"What protective covering?"

Frank tugged and worried at the surface of the board at one corner until he got some purchase on the thin polythene.

"Aha.... Here we have it! Now - a big decision?" Frank turned to Clare with a slightly mischievous look on his face, and a twinkle of humour in his eyes. 

"Do you really want to do this and risk losing a work of art that may have made it into the 'Tate Modern' - or do we peel it off and expose the real white board underneath so you can write up your lesson plan?"

Clare came over to the board in a flurry and grabbed at the offending plastic, tearing it into shreds and removing it from the board; a combination of relief and exasperation in her movements and her voice.

"It was still in its wrapping! I did the whole of yesterday's and today's planning on the plastic wrapping! Oh thank goodness! Thank goodness!" She exclaimed as she exposed a perfectly new, pristine white board.

"Well, if its any consolation, I very nearly made the same mistake myself - it was only because mine was torn in one corner that I actually realised the fitters hadn't done it! No harm done, just a bit of professional frustration. Shame about the art work though - I think you may have had something there." Frank delivered with a reassuring smile.

"Oh Frank,.....thank you - I just simply had no idea until I tried to wipe it off! I'm such a goof sometimes. I'm sorry to get so emotional in the first week. I just get a bit highly strung sometimes..."

"Hey.... Look, think nothing of it - could have happened to any of us, and I'm not complaining about your wanting to be efficient; now try and have a good afternoon and stay calm - panic over.”

Clare still looked quite crestfallen though clearly relieved as Frank was heading out of the classroom, so he turned in the doorway and took a step back into the room.

"By the way, just in general, an excellent start in my view these last couple of days; you do seem very organised, good lesson delivery and the kids like you, so no complaints from me! Seven F will be here in a minute, so you've just got time to get the plan on that ‘brand new’ white board. Oh...., and don't forget the meeting later - over in Adrian's office - I really need you to have an input, to help sway things a little in our favour. After the start of term we’ve had with the academic faculty, and the way the HOD’s meetings have been going, it’s vital we have a really good collective demonstration of ‘why the Arts are important’ later in the term. We really do all need to pull together on this, and I’ve no idea how the other departments are going to respond! Any positivity you can give would be great.”

As he turned to go Clare gave him a grateful smile and a gentle nod, and Frank blew a little sigh of relief as he made it into the corridor. His new assistant (he felt) was a really talented music teacher, but possibly quite high maintenance - he only hoped he would be able to dedicate the time necessary as the year developed to guide and support her without becoming frustrated himself; always a challenge, and not easy when at times he also felt under pressure. Early days, but overall not a bad start, and he would rather have passion and emotion over staid monotony any day - Clare was a million miles from boring, he just hoped she was earth bound enough to deal with the everyday occurrences she was likely to encounter at Greater Barrows.

*

As the afternoon came to a close, Frank checked back in with Clare who had clearly enjoyed her teaching and seemed to have recovered from the earlier stress. He briefed her again about his plans for the coming year, and how he so wanted to draw the arts together, but explained that he had to get the art and drama departments to agree; not always an easy process, as in the past they had often had their own plans and wouldn't budge. He needn't have worried as things turned out, as the arts meeting couldn't have gone better, and whilst he had been expecting some real resistance (from Adrian in particular) over his ideas for the cross arts installation projects, he had been caught completely by surprise by the overall positivity from the group. 

When it came to it, there was a little apprehension from Clare, as it took her away from her own comfort zone, but (and this was the surprise) total enthusiasm and almost a 'devil may care' attitude from the new art teacher Jill! He hadn't been expecting such complete understanding and support (and clearly neither had Adrian!), and as a result the meeting had moved onto more detailed planning rather than the initial vote of agreement Frank had hoped for. Jill had almost seemed more enthusiastic about the idea than he did himself, pushing to get plans formed straight away!

It had been three years since Frank had felt that pull of eagerness and camaraderie to get a project underway, and much as he respected Adrian for the work he did in the classroom, it had always been hard to get him to ‘vote in’ to anything that wasn't entirely 'Adrian driven'; he really missed the 'sound boarding' that he had enjoyed with John Hardy, and up to now no other colleague had even remotely filled that gap. Jill Seymour had therefore been a breath of fresh air in the meeting, listening to the outline of the plan, chipping in tactfully to squash any of Adrian's reservations, and then offering to re-write any schemes of work as necessary, to allow for the collaboration to happen - amazing! 

The final half hour had just been Jill and Frank prattling on about the detail, and working out when a more thorough meeting could be arranged later in the week. Adrian delegated the discussions to Jill and (whilst keeping his professional overview) generally opted out of any further input, bar checking the agreed plan. Clare had little to offer but was very willing to be fully participant, and the Head of Drama, Jenna Jameson, whilst initially concerned about overusing some pupils, came round in the end, swayed by the benefits to the whole of each year group and the whole 'key stage three' cohort in general.

Frank was very aware that he had seamlessly extended the day in excess of any 'normal' paradigm, and knew that whilst Debbie wouldn't be wondering why he was late, he still felt a degree of urgency as he left site about getting to the shop well in advance of Debbie closing up. He was also aware that it was Jill's infectious personality and easy manner, in addition to her positive void filling response, that had drawn him in, and allowed the time to run away with itself. Totally professional of course (he told himself), but given that Jill was also incredibly attractive, and seemed to possess a physical ease with her tactile nature, he was only too aware that he would have little objection to spending the hours necessary to make the lesson plans work, nor would he mind the collaborative time needed to successfully aim for the presentation ‘showing' dates at the end of term. 

He had a lighter spring to his step and was already planning (and feeling excited) about the meeting at the end of the week, where he and Jill would finalise the initial ideas and work out who was going to do what. He hadn't felt like this at work for far too long; actually he hadn't felt like this pretty much about anything other than his and Debbie's 'bolt-hole' life for years, and it was a very welcome change - a change he knew he would pursue without reserve to avoid the banal monotony of statistically driven spreadsheet input! Although it did strangely cause him to feel a tiny twinge of guilt, so he thought he'd just play it down a bit when he relayed the day to Debbie. 

No point in overreacting and raising concerns over nothing.

Six

Just as Debbie was checking her watch and thinking about locking up, (so she was ready for the off as soon as Frank got there) the door burst open announcing the arrival of Trisha, Jamie's friend Jack's mum. Trisha usually popped in about once a fortnight to either buy the books the kids needed at school, or select her next romantic novel; the visit was always littered with the latest gossip, peppered with Trisha’s own politically incorrect observations and views on other people's lives. It was sometimes good for a little light relief if it had been a dull day, but often Trisha didn't take quite enough care about what she said, and Debbie felt it wasn't really right to spread rumour which may be entirely unfounded, or talk about others misfortunes as if it were an entertainment! It all seemed far too judgmental and potentially damaging to Debbie, who took people as they were, and understood that everyone looked at life a little differently, and most had their own problems to deal with, which they were trying to do in their own way. Who was she to make judgments anyway?

Trisha however, seemed to be constantly looking for anything that might break the day to day monotony she obviously felt coloured her own life, and Debbie felt she continually had to try to encourage her to look for more positive things to occupy herself, rather than wasting most of her time chatting to others, about others! It made for a slightly tenuous friendship, brought about more by the incidence of their sons’ relationship as class mates, rather than a mutual chemistry between their mums!

"Hi Debbie, glad I've just caught you - I thought you might be shut already! Jack's just texted me with a list of books we've got to buy, so I hoped to catch you before I headed home - I know what it's like; you'll have all the mums from the school in tomorrow and get sold out - thought I'd get my order in first!"

"Oh I don't know Trisha, I think most get their school books off Amazon these days; I'll be amazed if the floodgates open in the morning!  Most mums do work as well now; they don't have time to go book shopping except for the lunch break, and actually I think they think it's easier if the kids just order the stuff themselves off the Internet. Probably what you call 'remote' parenting!"

"Well, maybe, but I don't want to encourage Jack to spend any longer on the Internet than he has to. His hormones are flying all over the place at the moment and all he's interested in is girls! I mean, thank God in one sense - heaven forbid if he'd been gay - but I don't want any distractions this year or next; he starts GCSE's with coursework and everything, so I'll get him the books, and he can use the computer when he needs to, and not for looking at girlie pics!" 

"I think they do have to have some time of their own to let their hair down though Trisha; particularly now, when the pressure on kids at school is far worst than when we were there. Obviously we all have to try to shield them from pornography, and bad influences, and I agree there are enough of those out there, but don't you remember what you were doing at fifteen? It's about balance isn't it? - Jamie knows he can put any picture he likes on his walls so long as there is no nudity - I agree.... most of the women may just as well be naked, but hey, he is trying to satiate his desire and get it right - I'm sure Jack's the same?"

"Yes I guess, although I don't call pictures of nearly naked women ‘art’ and as such they don't get displayed on our walls! In the end I just don't want Jack distracted - and if I'd spent more time getting good grades when I was fifteen, and less time chasing after Paul, I might be a lawyer by now, not just a suburban housewife! I want Jack to take the opportunities we’re giving him and make the best out of himself."

"Of course you do, but then if you'd become a lawyer you might not have Jack at all, and if you hadn't chased Paul like you did, you might never have married him. You could be an amazingly successful lawyer, at home, all alone, tempted to surf the Internet for pornography every night, wishing you'd spent less time getting good grades and more time chasing the man of your dreams!” 

They both had a little chuckle, and Debbie could see that deep down Trisha was quite happy with the way things had turned out - although more recently she had seemed a bit less settled; probably just adjusting to an ever changing family environment Debbie thought. Trisha and Paul had been an item from high school right through sixth form, and married by the time they were twenty one. Jack had been born quite soon after so Trisha had been wife and mother through virtually all her adult life, and seemed just a bit weary of the mundane at times, and frustrated that any diversity in her life was outlined by the needs of a growing teenage boy. In a few years time that would end too, as Jack left home altogether, bringing with it a new set of insecurities and dynamics. With Jack being an only child, there was every possibility that Trisha was clinging on to her essential role in life - that of being a good mother - for all she was worth; the danger was that her total focus on this may well prevent her from finding the next step in her own life, until she woke up one day and felt deserted - and then anything could happen! 

"I do hope though that my guys can avoid the temptations of the virtual world." said Debbie. "We are supposed to be going to buy a new computer tonight - the old one's on its last legs; or so they tell me! Novelty will mean more time on it, so I hope it's for the right reasons, although I know Frank sees it as a work machine so I can't see him spending hours wasting time surfing the net! I thought he'd already be here actually as we're going to call in at ‘Compu-World' on the way home."

"You know Debbie, blokes just like sexy girls! Jack came home yesterday and would not stop going on about his new art teacher - apparently even Kiera Knightly has moved down into second place in comparison; I suppose teachers do get younger every year, but it only adds to distracted temptation, which does seem to be absolutely everywhere, and so easily accessible! If I were you I'd make sure you have the strictest web search filter possible and lock it yourself with your own password - and confiscate their damned mobile phones.........! It's just too hard to keep them focused on the real world, and we're not getting any younger are we?!"

Debbie just got a hint of a worry that all might not be as it should be - there was just a glimmer of anger and sadness in the way Trisha delivered the line about the mobile phones, but she wouldn't pry - Trisha would tell her if and when she was ready, if there was anything to report, but she did hope that all was okay between her and Paul. 

"I think Frank will be stricter than me probably, and he hates mobile phones - he and Jamie argue about it all the time, so we'll see. Now where is this list of books Jack needs because Jamie will need most of them as well I suppose; let’s have a look at that text message and see if we can find some of them before Frank gets here. He’s usually earlier than this, so we’d better be quick.”

*

"So how was your day?" Frank asked Debbie as they negotiated rush hour traffic on the ring road heading for the retail park. He was still in a good mood even though the traffic was quite heavy, and the usual 'idiot driving' was taking place.

"Have you managed to get all the new books sorted out or are they still in piles on the floor?"

"No, pretty much sorted now - most sections are back in order so just one more day should do it. Although I did have one poor chap on his hands and knees trying to find a book this afternoon, and he ended up on his backside when I startled him, so I do need to get them on the shelves as fast as I can - can you imagine if it was some poor granddad? Thank goodness he had a sense of humour and just made light out of it!" Debbie still found herself smiling at the whole experience and felt buoyed up in addition by Frank seeming to be more relaxed and positive than he had been for days, even though he usually got so stressed by other drivers - particularly in rush hour!

"You don't know how right you are! The new staff at school seem so different this year - early days I know, but the enthusiasm and lightness of the meetings we had today was just so positive and supportive. I'm actually really looking forward to pushing the boat out on this installation project, with this new team right behind it, and doing something creative for a change!

"Right - here we are - new computer here we come; I think I've got the spec clear in my head. There was a funny moment today though with Clare, my new music teacher - remind me to tell you about the white board wrapper on the way home - it was a moment of despair turned to real triumph - I hope! But I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been able to fix it! Not even worth thinking about - she is talented, but also fairly highly strung! Let’s go and see what computer geek's got to say, and hope beyond hope that for once a shop assistant seems to know more about the stuff they sell than we do!"

*

"And here we have it.." proclaimed Frank, "Latest core processor, mega gigs of RAM, one terabit hard drive, twenty one inch monitor and the all important super gig graphics card; although the sound card and decent set of speakers are what I hope gets the greatest use! You should start the music coursework as soon as you can Jamie; it just becomes a bug-bear otherwise, and we should now have the right tools.”

Frank and Debbie had arrived home about ten minutes earlier and  while Debbie set about getting some supper, Jamie had helped Frank carry in the boxes containing the new technology.

"Okay, so if you open the boxes and find any instructions, I'll dismantle the old one and move it out of the way."

"Waste of time finding the instructions Dad, computers are all the same these days - Jack says you basically plug them together, plug them in and switch them on."

"Well that'll be great if it works - but find the instructions anyway, and let's see what 'computer manufacturing man' has to say about it, before we take Jack's advice. With what this cost we won't be switching anything on until we know for certain it's put together right."

Frank started taking the old computer off the desk while Jamie shrugged and eye rolled before opening the box which held the new tower; he lifted out the plastic packing and some of the polystyrene filling and then found a large piece of paper which had some simple graphics and the heading 'Quick Start Guide' printed at the top.

"Hey Dad; found the instructions - it says 'simply plug the coloured connectors into the same coloured connector slots, plug in the power and switch on - your computer is manufactured to set up automatically' - I think we should risk it, what do you think?"

"I think you can give me a hand putting this in the garage and then we'll get the whole thing out and start to plug in the plugs as required - although I'm sure you and Jack are probably right, I would still prefer to proceed with caution in my middle aged, careful manner so we don't have any regrets. My standard rule of thumb where technology is concerned Jamie, is to only engage with it with the same amount of care you would employ if your tackle was placed inside a vice - you certainly wouldn't want anyone else in charge of the tightening handle, and you certainly would make absolutely sure you knew what you were doing before you did anything at all! Otherwise total, painful and costly disaster may ensue! Now give me a hand and pick up those speakers while I carry the monitor out."

Jamie picked up the speakers and grabbed as many cables and wires as he could as he followed Frank out through the kitchen to the garage. Frank caught Jamie grinning from ear to ear as he put the computer screen on a shelf.

“Bit of weird thing to consider doing Dad, putting your tackle into a vice? Didn't know you and Mum were into that kind of thing! Whatever rocks your boat I guess?”

Frank gave a mock swipe in Jamie’s direction as the boy edged away with a chuckle.

“Cheeky! Go and get the rest of it.”

“Dad, what are you going to do with this old one? I mean is it just going to sit in the garage or you going to try and sell it or something?"

"I actually have no idea Jamie - in many ways I'm sure it would still be of great use to someone, but they don't sell for much - might be better to donate it to a charity or a hospital."

“Well, we could keep it in my room for the time being - until you've decided; I'm going to have to do a lot of essays and start on coursework and stuff, and the new one will be brilliant for research and running the newer software, and the more complicated stuff like the music programme, but I could still use this one for most of the simple word document stuff? Might encourage me to get started on work earlier?"

Frank put the old computer tower back down and turned to look at Jamie. He was growing fast and was already capable of clear decision making, with a good intellect. He shouldn't still feel the need to use any kind of bribery or manipulation if his ideas were sound. Frank felt it was time he started to embrace being the young adult he was, and perhaps that he and Debbie should begin to embrace it too.

"Jamie, you will start work early so you can stay ahead because you will be encouraged to do so and because you want that for yourself, not because we have bribed you in any way - you know we don't work like that, so try to stop bringing good ideas to the table loaded with manipulation please - it might be wise to start feeling you are getting what you want because the idea is a good one - don't always expect the answer to be ‘no’ in the first instance!

As it happens, your suggestion could be a good idea, based on clear thinking and is a reasonably intelligent and sensible request, which requires some consideration, but in truth, probably not much. Let me talk it over with your mother, but do consider if it would still be as attractive if I removed all the software other than the word processor? The last thing either of us want is for you to spend hours in your room, unmonitored, on a computer - particularly at this stage of your education. Put it in here for now and then if Mum agrees we can move it up to your room later, but there will almost certainly be conditions!"

"Supper!" Debbie shouted from the kitchen. "Evie, come and help me set the table please...."

"Help me with the other bits and then we can get the new one sorted after supper and see what's what, okay? I think it should work out."

"Thanks Dad, I hope so. I know I've got a lot of work to do and I won't be stupid about it, but I'll need some down time as well or a guy could go mad with all the push, push, push from the teachers - you've all gone crazy this year!"

Frank gave Jamie a knowing smile in agreement, and put his arm warmly around his shoulders as he guided him back through to the kitchen.

"I think some of the staff were already crazy to begin with Jamie, and they may have just influenced most of the others to follow suit based on statistics and data! You’re right; balance is key to keeping you learning well, and keeping you wanting to learn - we need to make sure we get that balance right over the next couple of years as things heat up a bit academically. Supper time - we'll pick up the thread of this afterwards, and perhaps see if we can get both machines set up and running. Just let me talk to your Mum first, okay?"

*

The new computer was still whirring away self installing its set up software and Jamie was upstairs getting the old one set up in his bedroom. Frank had briefly explained to Debbie the rationale behind his decision but knew a greater conversation was needed, so it was no surprise when she came into the study.

"So Jamie now has a computer in his room?"

"He has agreed that it won't have any games on it and that it will be used for work, and that he won't ask for it to be put on the Internet. It means he can do a lot of his work, and in particular coursework,

in his own room undisturbed, which is a good thing I think. Also, it's a display of trust - I've told him that if he abuses it, or I think he is wasting time and not doing work it gets removed. But essentially, it was his idea, and focused on positive stuff - I just felt we should encourage that, and it seemed a spontaneous request.."

"Completely agree. But we will have to check that he is not abusing the privilege. You realise we have just bought a new computer and given Jamie one of his own - quite a shift in home dynamic?"

"I know love, but they are growing up - times are changing and the dynamic is going to shift; a lot probably over the next few years - heaven help us!"

The phone rang and Debbie reached over to answer it. Evie wandered past the study into the kitchen, as usual with pods in her ears, iPod in her pocket and in the throes of delivering the vocal line of the track she was listening to. Debbie handed the phone to Frank.

"It's Phil."

"Hi Phil, thanks for calling me back. What do you know about setting up new computers?"

"A bit, but not a lot - you just plug them together and plug them in these days I think - they're supposed to be idiot proof, so I don't think a lot can go wrong with them initially - just be patient Frank.... Err,  what's that you're listening to - absolutely amazing voice but I don't quite recognise who it is doing the cover?"

"I'm not listening to anything - oh, you mean the singing? That's Evie in the kitchen; you know what she's like, always singing along to her iPod, and yes, she does have a great voice."

"Frank, it's an amazing voice - I haven't heard her for a while but it's really changed; I mean, I don't think we've got anyone at school even close to that quality at the moment - I had no idea she'd got so good!"

"Plenty of time for it to develop, and you know I want it trained properly not just abused with rock and pop - she's not even fourteen years old, and only just starting Year 9, which is too young to become a pop star just yet!"

"Well maybe she should start small, you know, just give her some confidence - you know I’ve got a couple of numbers in the pipeline for this year, like we discussed before term started, but I’m really struggling to find a decent vocalist -  they would suit her brilliantly, without any strain. It would start to get her......"

"Phil - we'll go slow okay? You know I don't want Evie to drift into 'pop world' without her learning the nuts and bolts first - plenty of time yet. Now, the computer - tell me if you think it's normal that it's whirred away for over an hour apparently setting itself up?"

"Look, I'll pop round and have a look, although I'm pretty sure it's just a waiting game - see you in about twenty minutes - don't turn anything off in the meantime!"

 

October

Seven

Term had progressed well over the last few weeks, with schedules set, lessons delivered at a high standard (for the most part), and rehearsals and ensembles well into their preparation for any end of term events. Frank was just looking at tying up some loose ends as half term approached, and trying to get ahead with all of his paperwork so he could enjoy a good break.

Wednesday was always a hectic day; with his own teaching, meetings, and one of the busiest for his visiting instrumental staff. He hated the term 'peripatetics', so often shortened to 'peris' which seemed to be the accepted ‘collective’ used to describe instrumental music teachers. Whilst it was widely used to separate them from full-time academic staff, and to also distinguish them as teachers of musical instruments, (usually on a one-to-one basis with an individual pupil) it did somehow seem to establish them as a lower form of life. Frank knew it wasn't intentional, but even so, the term carried with it a derogatory edge which created a separation between instrumental teachers and academic classroom teachers; the perception always seeming to inspire the idea that due to the part-time nature of their career, many instrumental teachers were in educational terms 'not quite professionals', nor necessarily, therefore very talented. Not really teachers. Even though the vast numbers of these teachers taught instrumental music on a full-time basis, and sometimes at only one school, the label seemed to have stuck and was used prolifically  to describe anyone who taught a musical instrument.

The ignorance of it at times really made Frank's blood boil, particularly when he himself accepted that in many ways he had ‘stepped down’ to take the full-time teaching job for security, better pay, and a more stable life style, in preference to the diverse world of the busy freelance musician. He was fully aware that he had massively compromised his own professional skill level as a consequence, and was always conscious to remember how demanding it was to keep actively involved as a professional player, whilst supplementing an income with regular teaching, which is what most professional musicians did. Musically, life inside the classroom was a straightforward delivery of information, which marginally tested a musicians skill level (the same as a teacher of any subject for that matter) - actual teaching ability was more important; whilst in the real world of professional music only the highest performance level is accepted. If you don't play well you don't get work, and if you don't work you don't eat! 

Many of Frank's instrumental staff were still active professional musicians whom he had managed to 'grab' during their free-time to teach and expertly guide the pupils in a specific discipline - it brought with it it's own problems, and was the trickiest part of his job, but these teachers often weren't 'peris' as such, (many of them only taught for Frank - no roaming involved) they were consulting professionals whom parents were paying to have privileged access to. 

Frank looked it up once so he could justify his angst and found that the term 'peripatetic' is derived from the ancient historical idea of a roaming minstrel, or the strolling teacher who goes from place to place delivering philosophy and insight. It reminisces of a time when a knowledge of the classics, culture and the arts were viewed as the stuff of the educated; Frank felt it unlikely his instrumental teachers were considered alongside Aristotle by the current crop of sneering academics, but more likely considered alongside Mata Hari as a paid for by the hour professional, delivering a particular service! As far as he knew, none of his instrumental staff were actually prostitutes (although a couple of them were stunningly attractive, and did have to suffer constant ogling from some of the male teachers), so they shouldn't be treated as such by their employers or colleagues. Defending their status and schedules was one of his most difficult and challenging jobs, but an essential if the school was going to have an active and successful music department. In the end he saw no reason why, regardless of their area of educative expertise, all teachers weren't treated like professionals. Shouldn't that be the case?

Frank was working on a spreadsheet of teaching expenses and checking his own schedule for the day when there was a knock on the door to his office, which was mostly left open to allow his staff to liaise with him without formality. He was already a bit irritated as he had had another difficult chat with Phil about not using Evie just yet as a vocalist with one of the bands. He knew she was talented but really felt she should give it another couple of years before 'fronting' a band, just to allow her voice to settle more and to develop the maturity to deal with it! Phil was being really persistent though, and had been continually chipping away over the last few weeks, and just not letting it drop. It was making Frank a bit grumpy, and was testing their friendship and working relationship a little, so he was now quite tetchy and felt a bit unsettled.

"Yes!"

"Hi Frank, sorry to trouble you... and I know it's always a real pain, but I really need to change my teaching around next week.... One of the cellists with the Chamber Orchestra is on sick leave just when they have a run of recording sessions. I'm first 'deputy', as you know, so they always see if I'm available when they need someone, and it's pretty quiet next week on the gig front, so if I can be really flexible with my teaching here.... Also the last three sessions fall in half term, but I have to do the whole thing or none of it........ what do you think?"

Samantha Loosley. Thirty something blonde bombshell who could have just as easily earned a living as a professional pin-up model rather than a professional cellist - one of the ‘well ogled’ by the male staff members. She was actually an inspiring and excellent teacher and there was no question that she had made playing the cello appear 'sexy', which had caught the attention of several pupils and had created a 'cool' clique of cellists in the school. Whilst Frank kept an eye on this, he celebrated the healthy effect it had on all the pupils and, alongside the work Phil was doing with the rock groups, Samantha in particular had established thriving numbers which helped keep the department balanced. Frank was able to forge ensembles in all the discipline areas, choral, orchestral and rock and pop, which was a rarity in modern education, and only due to the excellent work of teachers like Sam; he would always try and be as flexible as possible if enough notice of a necessary change was given, but it was always frustrating as any change usually led to at least one cock-up and an email from an irate parent.

"Sam...!"Frank groaned.  "You know the grief we get with this kind of thing at short notice..... my answer is almost always ‘no' and I’m having a less than great day already!”

Frank slumped back in his chair and groaned again, with a look of resigned apology - he had no wish to be difficult with Sam if it could be avoided, but the last thing he needed was additional grief, and the necessity to change any timetables at this stage.

"I know Frank, I'm so sorry to even ask - but look, this is what I've worked out - if I switch Monday and Tuesday to an extra day in each of the following two weeks, and stay later on Wednesday and Thursday next week that will do it! I'll get notes to all the kids I've already seen to tell them, and I'll email all the parents so they have the revised schedule. If any of the kids can't do the new time for any reason, then I'll have to reschedule again to find a time that works - it should all be done and dusted, with the regular schedule back in place after half term - what do you think?"

"Sam, you know what I think....... In an ideal world you wouldn't be asking and everything would run as clockwork, with no need to change anything; however, we both know that 'ideal' is only rarely achieved! I don't need to voice my concerns, and you know that if it goes wrong I won't be a happy bunny...... but....... show me what you've got planned and let me just check that there is nothing in the calendar that prevents it from working in the first instance. I would love to just say ‘no’ and have an easy life, but look…. give me half an hour okay? If it looks like it might work I'll pop in at the end of your next lesson and you can start telling the kids of the new arrangements."

"Thanks Frank - you're a star..... I'm sure we can make it work somehow."

"No promises Sam...... and even if it works this time please still be aware that it is a rare event - the admin involved is just too cumbersome these days, and it only needs one academic teacher to throw a wobbly because 'Billy is missing maths next week when he was supposed to be missing history' and 'why have we made a change?' In their world - that of academic teachers - you have to understand they simply don't get the concept that the schedule should change at all, for any reason. They cannot assimilate that you are a working professional and that practising your craft might take a necessary priority on occasion; they are teachers - routine, time tables, and rigid schedules is all they understand for the most part - so please, please, please, let me see if it works this time, but hope it's a one off! There is a real likelihood we will get grief from somewhere, even if I can get it to work."

"Thanks Frank. I'm sorry, I know it's tough to be flexible these days and I really do appreciate it - let me know a bit later okay?”

Frank abandoned his work on cost evaluations, stared at the wall for a bit, then turned his attention instead to the plan Sam had outlined as she went to start her next lesson - he would have to check each pupil’s time table and the implications over the coming weeks to be sure it would work; only then could he make any changes and impart the new information. The whole exercise would take about three hours, once new schedules were printed and the time taken to electronically update the central information system all schools seemed to regard as a bible these days! Crazy work, and time he didn't need to be using, but necessary occasionally if he wanted to retain high quality teachers. In the end he knew Sam was first and foremost a player - a professional musician of some repute who chose to work free-lance to add diversity to her schedule and be able to offer teaching; he would rather have her on board with some difficulties occasionally, than lose her altogether. Bottom line, if she chose to do the concert work she could simply call in sick and there was nothing he could do about it - he would still have to reschedule the lessons. This day was just spiralling out of control. He sighed and set to work.

*

Later on, Frank confirmed with Sam that for the most part her revised plan would work, but he quickly caught her at the end of school to give her the new time table, and to outline a couple of amendments he had had to make. He was running late for the fortnightly HOD's (Heads of Department) meeting as a result. He wasn't too bothered as he loathed them anyway for the most part as they had become less and less relevant for the arts as the weeks had passed; the tone had been set by the first one of the term which showed only borderline collegiality as it ran it’s course, due to the ‘insistence with no discussion’ tactic from Peter over the ‘higher achievement at all costs’ issue. As a result the ensuing meetings had become more a time-wasting exercise, since the focus was so heavily on those ‘core’ subjects. More and more it seemed that the arts were just an irritant in the eyes of the academics; a conjunctivitis that was suffered until the drops of ‘focussed thinking' were applied to wash it all away! Still, he did need to attend as part of his remit, although he desperately needed to grab a coffee at least before going in, having taught both lessons of the afternoon and worked through lunch to try and finalise Sam's schedule. 

He quickly stabbed the 'double espresso' button on the machine in the common room on his way past, grabbed a bottle of water, and checked his pigeon hole for the prerequisite pile of papers Peter White was almost certain to have printed in preparation for the meeting. Bundling together everything in his slot, and juggling papers, water and coffee, he headed for the meeting room with the intention of going through the pile as he feigned attention - repetition seemed to be the natural order of delivery these days; not really discussions - not really meetings - more assembled gatherings where the dictator could outline   ‘this is what is required’!

As he slipped into the room he quietly caught Peter's eye and (maintaining a time-honed politeness) motioned an apology for his lateness, finding a chair at the far end of the table to sit and dump his papers. The meeting was in full swing with Peter orating about the need for extra vigilance from staff over prep setting, and the 'broken record, holier than thou, too oft repeated' sermon regarding differentiation and ‘in-class' assessment data. Frank felt he had heard it all before, and already felt his time was being wasted - most of this stuff was only really directed at, and relevant to (yet again!) the 'core' subjects anyway, and he still held the belief that every teacher should be spending their time by aiming to get the best grade possible for every pupil, not wasting time researching and inputting data for the sake of justifying statistics! He started to go through his papers to find those relevant to the meeting just as Jason Willoughby, the Head of Science, chipped in with some concerns about class disruption.

"Peter, I think we all agree and understand the need for real vigilance here, right across the subject spectrum. For weeks now we have been focussing our attention on making real headway, but where I am having some difficulty, is gaining parity between tying this down on the one hand, and the lack of sacrosanct lesson attendance on the other! I know in science we could make so much more progress if we actually had all the kids, in all the classes they were supposed to be attending, all of the time - the disruption at present simply makes your request marginally untenable, so my question is, what adjustments, if any, are being made to alter things so we can guarantee that pupils are actually in class?"

Frank had never really warmed to Jason Willoughby; he always seemed a bit superficial but carried that air of superiority which seemed to state that because he was a scientist he was party to the ‘true’ knowledge. Privileged. Stood on higher ladder rungs. That sort of thing. Perhaps he was, and was scientifically enlightened as a result - anything was possible - but in the end he was just a teacher like everyone else, and  he didn't need to hold all others and their subject areas in such contempt, which is how he came across. Jamie would just say he was slimy.

Peter paused for a brief moment, using the ensuing silence to add import to the question. Allowing the full meaning of it sink in. He  gained the air of a man who has to consider all avenues carefully before his response; moving a little in his seat, raising his shoulders, taking a deeper, more reluctant breath. Like any good politician, he attempted to present the perception that the question aired hadn't been previously conceived, discussed, planned and planted; it was an oft repeated tactic, and he was only ever marginally successful at pulling it off. Far from being caught off guard though, his arrogance always conveyed an aura of delight and mischievousness that he simply wasn't capable of concealing. Frank's radar had already been pricked at Jason's question; he was now on full alert for the response from Peter, and as usual the signs of ‘responding to the unexpected’ were clearly present. It was obvious there had been a prior meeting about this and Peter was looking for the 'right' response from those around the table. Alarm bells started ringing in Frank’s head.

"Well, there has been some discussion along these lines between myself and The Headmaster - he looks at the school as a whole, whilst we only really concern ourselves with the purely academic side of things as you know. However, in the end, it is a difficult time for all of us, and I have advised the Headmaster, on more than one occasion, that compromises will need to be reached, particularly in the areas of sport, music and other erosions that impact on academic learning, if we are to ensure pupils are gaining a satisfactory lesson and learning quota. We simply cannot expect, as you quite correctly point out Jason, that our students achieve their best if they are constantly missing academic lessons. We will have to begin a process shortly to see how we can make adjustments in those two areas in particular, in an attempt to effect a more focused academic environment for the pupils."

There was a moment of silence and stillness as those around the table digested this information. For many there was no negative implication whatsoever, and probably a majority verdict that nothing should affect academic lesson attendance anyway – to arrange for pupils to be somewhere else other than in class was wholly disruptive, disadvantaged students, and was impossible to keep track of on a week to week basis, if it was a regular occurrence. It was also extremely difficult and time consuming to assist the pupils affected with effective ‘catch up’ strategies, so why would any education establishment endorse and encourage pupils to do things other than sit in class and learn? Education is always far easier to deliver if there is no flexibility and all pupils are in the same place at the same time, being witness to the same information - after all, all children are the same aren’t they? As long as the information is delivered in a variety of ways, they will all ‘get it’ in the end, and should achieve their best. Job done. But they do have to be there in the first place! Surely? Everybody knows that this is the basic requirement of any school - get the kids in class!

Education only becomes a complication if one sees pupils as individuals, with varied learning skills, and diverse interests and needs. Good schools work hard to accommodate this with astounding complications at times, in a bid to allow pupils to gain the very best from their own abilities; a possible reason they are considered ‘good' schools in the first place? Of course. Weak schools and ‘academic hot-houses’ abandon the wealth of a full, rounded education in favour of higher academic achievement at all costs. But there are costs. So the question is, who really benefits?

School prestige with high league table scores and excellent university entrance statistics have become the much sought after prizes for senior school institutions, forced into gathering data to enable governments to clarify what is a ‘good school’ (in their perception), and to be able to market effectively to parents. As a result, mediocre pupils are often forced to ‘stick with it’ and at least make a respectful achievement in many of the core subject areas they might otherwise leave behind. These pupils then either leave school completely deflated, having gained only a poor to low grade in some subjects, but now secure in the knowledge that they are not very clever, or they leave school with highly inflated ideas about their prowess, because they did quite well in the end, having abandoned all else in a bid for some success! As a result, many children fail at university level, or simply don't apply for the correct course, and struggle for years in the real world to find their true identity. 

Not every pupil will achieve ‘A star’ grades and a first class honours degree in Maths, Science or English  – nor should they – or have an expectation to. It doesn't mean they are dim; it does mean their strengths lie in other areas - areas that perhaps were not taken too seriously by the school they attended, and therefore not developed in the right way. Perhaps they were required to sit in maths endlessly instead of developing their drama and acting skills? Maybe they should having been working on their script as the next great stand-up comic?

Education is the complication of channeling and guiding vital requirements for adulthood with a careful nurturing of a child’s specific talents, whatever they happen to be. Spotting the needs of the individual and appropriately accommodating their development within the schemes available should be the ‘essential’ requirement of all institutions, not the bit tagged on at the end. To focus on only a few subjects to enable a school to be measured, and to abandon any 'non academic' input as irrelevant will only continue to achieve what it already has – the main focus in education being on school and teacher success as a direct reflection of good results, rather than fully nurturing and educating an individual to properly take their place in the world. 

To abandon a wider education and skill set from our learning environments is folly, which at best will dis-serve countless more tranches of children, at worst, will propagate generations of confused partial robots, who flail with their dissatisfaction in life, and feel cheated and frustrated by their inability to fully develop as adults. The vast majority of children only find out who they are and what they want to do once they have left school - in many cases this is simply too late, and education has a responsibility to do just that - educate - and effectively, across the board, in all areas of discipline - not waste many youngsters time for years barking up the wrong tree!

Frank could barley restrain himself as Peter’s words took on cohesive meaning in his brain; he made an audible gasp of incredulity but was momentarily paralysed with regard to speech patterns. Just as he was trying to form words, and construct non-offensive sentences, Mark Clayton chipped in with his usual ‘to the point’ if not slightly brutal approach.

“I’m sorry Peter, are you suggesting that sport has a negative impact on academic achievement?”

“Mark, I don’t think anyone is suggesting that per se. We are discussing pupil attendance at lessons and as you know pupils regularly miss classes when they are taken on away fixtures – as the year progresses this will become increasingly a problem for some individuals. Many of those in the sports teams are on our lists of weaker candidates for examinations.’

“Oh..So you must be suggesting that some of the sporty kids, as we know, are a bit dim then? And as a result…. What? Are they not going to be allowed to play in the teams? There are some kids in this school, Peter, who can barely tie their own shoe laces, let alone pass five GCSE's. But some of them can kick a football, remarkably well in one or two cases, and that is without doubt the only reason they bother turning up to school in the first place, and attend any class. So.... I know - let's stop them doing what draws them here, and tie them down in class instead - what a great idea!"

There was an uncomfortable silence whilst Peter considered his next words carefully.

“It may be Mark that we have to look at the whole business of away fixtures and the regularity of allowing pupils to miss most of afternoon school in order to compete in team sports, yes. It may actually pan out to be a great idea if it will help those pupils gain better grades."

Frank watched as Mark incubated a dangerous look in his eyes, and an angry stillness came over his face, as he switched his gaze between Peter, Jason and the rest of those gathered.

“Over my bloody dead body! If this is a conversation you and I need to have Peter, then we’ll have it – but in the Headmasters office. We have team sports and fixtures for a reason, and all these kids represent the school just as well as your top academics. I’m actually quite offended that this has been brought to the table here without discussing it with parties concerned in advance, when it has clearly been discussed in some detail before today. You know, these kids deserve better! I'm actually quite staggered it's even been brought up for discussion, given the value so many of these kids willingly add to market the perception of this school, by their hard-earned success on the sports field.”

Peter was about to answer when Jason jumped in with an attempt at qualification.

“I think Mark that pupils being absent from class on a regular basis is of great concern to us all, and is a matter for open discussion in HOD’s; that’s why it’s on the table now. If we are to get the best out of these pupils academically, then quite simply we have to be allowed to teach them; otherwise we simply will not be able to raise standards. In the end I’m afraid it’s what they achieve in the classroom that counts.”

Clayton was fast losing any semblance of ‘meeting etiquette’.

"Don't worry Willoughby, I think we’re all pretty clear where the meddling menaces are sitting, what the point of this is really all about, and what the objective is! But as you never get out to watch these kids perform in the fixtures, as they're after school, you wouldn't naturally know the value of it, or have the first clue about the kids themselves and what makes them tick! So why should we expect anything less?”

Peter was again about to add something further in an attempt to quell an over the table open argument as Mark Clayton’s body language seemed to suggest things were fast getting out of hand – Frank had had the opportunity to compose himself and not react with instant anger, but now took the moment to inject his own thoughts into the vein of over heated dialogues, albeit quite forcefully.

“Peter, Jason, I am sure I represent a common voice when I say that all of us around the table understand the need for raising standards and gaining the highest academic awards possible for our charges. Why wouldn't we? However, education is about many things, not, I hope, only about academic achievement. I would like to feel we would all agree on that? I would also like to propose that a select meeting is arranged where all points relating to this are openly discussed, but that time is not wasted today on something that can only spur a disagreement. Not everyone here is affected so much by the suggestion of such a radical change in policy. This school currently has a clear policy of offering a rounded and well-organised full education to it’s pupils – it’s why many parents have chosen for their children to be here. To change that policy is not within the remit of this meeting, nor should it be, and to echo Mark’s words, it is a discussion that must take place with the Headmaster, openly. I think we all need to consider carefully what may be the next step, and if a next step is even required, but I also think care should be taken regarding the insinuation that some areas of the school are an ‘erosion’ I think is the word you used?; I am sure all colleagues would like to feel they have an equal input with the value they offer, as Mark rightly pointed out?

As such, I would like to recommend that you move to the next point on the agenda Peter, so we don’t get stalled?”

Frank was desperate to move away from any notional idea that HOD’s would vote, even by openly voicing their opinions, to stop any kind of lesson absence. He strongly suspected by Peter’s manner at the start that this was a political gambit to gain majority support which would have massive implications for the instrumental music teaching programme; if he was disallowed to rotate pupils through academic lessons, that would be the end of instrumental music in the school. Once one precedent like away fixtures was blocked, there was no telling how things might escalate.

Mark Clayton had clearly had enough, and before Peter could gain control again, he rose from his seat.

"Well I for one am not waiting around to listen to any more of this loaded drivel, agenda points or not! Thank you Frank for trying to instil some sense, but this has gone far enough already. I will be formally arranging to speak with the Headmaster tomorrow and suggest you do the same before we watch what is good about this school get flushed down the loo!

Peter, I won't give you my apologies, but suddenly there is a vital reason why I must excuse myself from these proceedings."

Mark collected his papers and laptop and exited, leaving a confused and divided group still gauging each other. As Head of Sport he had a considerable posse of followers amongst the HOD's and whilst this was primarily an academic meeting, many would not agree with the direction Peter had pushed things; most staff were fairly ambivalent where conflict was concerned, preferring to 'sit on the fence' and stay uninvolved, and whilst everyone in the room was a Head of Department, many were also involved with the running of teams and held great respect for Mark and all he did within his role. 

Needing to regain control and not lose the moment, and now that one of the main objectors had left the room, Peter attempted to seize the opportunity again.

"I agree with you in essence Frank, but our remit is clear - we must serve the student body as best we can, and if that means presenting a case to the Headmaster for more sacrosanct lesson time then that is the duty of those assemble........"

"Oh for heavens sake Peter, give it a bloody rest! You can't fundamentally change the entire education system to suit your own little whims! We've all sat here for a couple of years now listening to how we have to create more data, set meaningless homework so you have some statistics, even though in Art it is a complete waste of bloody time! Well I for one have had enough too - and quite frankly, I too have got better things to do!"

It was rare but not completely new for Adrian to launch an outburst of such vigour, as he had constantly raised his objections to the data driven techniques required by Peter, and had, in the past, delivered minor outbursts on the subject. Given the tone of the current meeting it was not entirely unexpected, but still added a further shocking dynamic to all those gathered. He rose and departed leaving the majority now very unsettled. Frank couldn't resist the moment.

"Well Peter, I think that went quite well, all things considered - if of course your intention was to remove from the discussion any of the HOD's for whom this point is particularly relevant?! I trust you won't now put anything to a vote, and would ask for an abstention of decision given the parties now absent, until such time allows for full consultation with the Headmaster. It'll certainly make interesting reading in the minutes! Sorry I was a little late arriving and missed the first bit, but given the tone of the last five minutes, I think it would be remiss of me to stay and persevere through the rest. I think I have all the relevant bits, thus, if you would excuse me......"

And with that he rose, gathered his things, and left the room as well. The day had now plummeted to a new era of ineffective management which left Frank shaking, troubled and feeling very vulnerable given the direction of the last half hour. He would have to do all he could to try to nip this in the bud before it sprouted roots and started getting out of control. His real fear was that he may already be too late!