Near the end of Mandy’s third day in her first teaching job, the Headmaster strode in and interrupted the story she was reading to her class. He pointed a quivering finger at her desk and shouted, ‘Do not leave a mess like that on your desk! You need to set an example to these children about tidiness. Did they not teach you that at Teachers College?’ He whipped round and stomped out. The children stared after him, owl-eyed, and turned back to stare at Mandy, then at the one sheet of paper lying neatly folded on her desk. She stretched her lips into a facsimile of a smile and continued reading to the waiting children.
That evening she seethed at her kitchen table while she prepared and practised the speech she was going to tell Mr So-Far-Up-His-Own-Bum about never speaking to her like that again. Never to berate her like that in front of the children. Never. Ever. Again! Didn’t he know how unprofessional that was?
Next morning, she knocked on his office door and waited for his barked ‘Come in!’ When she entered, he looked up from his desk, a slightly nervous frown on his face when he saw who it was. To catch him off-guard, Mandy started her speech with an apology for her untidiness. Before she could launch into the next part, he relaxed his shoulders, beamed at her and said, ‘Oh Mandy. Think nothing of it. Today is a new day. It’s all fine.’
Thoughts of the reference she would need from him at the end of her probationary year swamped the words she had ready. She took a breath, thanked him and turned and headed for the door. His voice sailed after her, ‘Just as well you’re a beautiful blonde, eh Mandy!’ and he gave a little chuckle. She zipped her lips and closed the door.
The following week she attended a dance/drama workshop for local teachers. Two elderly teachers from her old primary school came up to her and told her how grown-up she looked. ‘So… now you’re a teacher!’ they exclaimed. ‘Well, who would have thought? You were such a shy little thing when you were in Miss Tootle’s class! Miss Tootle won’t recognise you.’
At the name, Mandy felt a tremor run up her backbone. She looked around the room and saw a greyer, more wrinkled version of the Miss Tootle of her nightmares.
‘Oh, do come and say hello to her,’ the old teachers chorused.
Mandy pretended she hadn’t heard.
While she danced around the room, she kept Miss Tootle in her sights so she could stay well clear of her, but when the music stopped, there she was right in front. Mandy felt the blood rush to her face, but Miss Tootle glanced at her without interest.
Memories surfaced in the silence.
A child your age couldn’t possibly have written this story. You must have copied it from a book. You’ll stay behind after school and write 100 times I must not copy.
You’re too stupid to be in this class. You must have cheated your way in. You should be in the slow leaners’ class. If I see another story like this in your writing book I’ll ask the Head to transfer you there where you should have been in the first place with the rest of the dunces.
And the comment a neighbour repeated to her mother. Verity Tootle said Mandy has an inferiority complex.
The music started again, but as soon as it stopped, there was Miss Tootle in front of her. This time Mandy stared at her while her thoughts gathered like storm clouds.
You were my example of how not to teach.
You were the kind of teacher I vowed I would never ever turn into.
You were the worst kind of bully. You were vicious and you were cruel.
But guess what? Here I am. I survived you when others didn’t and I’m no longer afraid of you.
Miss Tootle turned and looked at her. This time her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. She paled beneath the liberal application of rouge on her sallow cheeks.
Mandy smiled at her. Miss Tootle gasped and started to tremble. Mandy unzipped her lips, the fully-formed words straining at the leash. But they shot out of her mouth on a fast-track trajectory to the ceiling. They landed on the rafters like dead birds, their rumpled feathers fluttering to the floor.
The music began again. Mandy resumed dancing, furious with herself for never being able to say what was on her mind. She heard a loud thump. Shouts of ‘Oh my God!’ from others in the room. When she spun round, she saw Miss Tootle lying in a crumpled heap. The two old teachers scuttled over to her and knelt down on the floor. They both looked up at Mandy. One of them said, ‘You were standing right in front of her just now. I saw her expression change when she looked at you. What on earth did you say to her?’
‘Not a single word,’ said Mandy.
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