Angel Yard

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I sat quietly in the staff room catching up with some marking, I’d done one school patrol and unless I was called, I didn’t need to do another one until next lesson.

The school had failed its last OFSTED inspection in dramatic fashion and I was one of the few survivors from the previous staff who had passed muster with the ‘New Broom team’ brought in to turn things around.

All the solid wood doors in the school had been changed to semi glazed, so whoever was on patrol could see how the class was behaving and if there was any trouble brewing also all the students were now addressed by their title and surname.

Suddenly my radio burbled into life ‘Would the patrol officer please go to Room 1 in the Churchill block’ I picked up my radio and responded ‘On my way’.

Typical, Churchill block was at the farthest end of the site.  I set off, wondering as I went which particular miscreant I would be collecting today. Pupils who were disrupting lessons were removed to what we staff referred to as the ‘Sin Bin’ though its official name was the Quiet room.

The Quiet room was presided over by Mrs Grove, a teacher with many years’ experience who had a real soft spot for some of the more troubled students.

As I approached the Churchill room I could hear singing in amongst the general noise, oh well, at least I knew who I was dealing with. I entered the class room, smiled kindly at Mr Smith, he was an NQT who showed great promise as a teacher, but this particular child would try the patience of a saint.

Both her parents had attended this school, her father Martin had been a bit of a handful who could always be guaranteed to get caught, her mother, Julie, was NBD (nice but daft). Not an ounce of malice or common sense between them.

‘Miss Yarde’ I bellowed, to make myself heard above the ruckus, most of the class quietened down, apart from the main culprit, who had a boy twice her size in a headlock and the boy in the headlock who was screaming like a banshee.

‘Miss Yarde’ I repeated, this time I was closer so she heard me. She grinned, ‘Hello Miss’

‘Miss Yarde please release Mr Walker’

‘But Miss, he was rude to me, I told him I was going to audition for the X Factor an he I sounded like a strangled cat’

I have to admit that I had some sympathy with Mr Walker, like many hopefuls Miss Yarde did seem to feel that volume was more important than talent.

‘I’m sure he’s very sorry now’, ‘aren’t you Mr Walker’ he let out a strangled cry that could have passed as an apology and Miss Yarde released him.

I couldn’t help thinking, as I escorted Miss Yarde to the Sin Bin, that her parents had been wildly optimistic when they had named her Angel!