29/06/2008 by April First.

An escape indeed - Havoc Blythe as always coming up trumps on the organisational front, although that doesn’t mean he endears himself to me any more because of that.

Ludlow turns out to be a lovely small town with impossibly small streets and half-timbered houses that must date back 300 years or more (we didn’t pick up a history so I don’t know for sure).  There’s a castle, a river which floods, a bridge that fell down over a year ago and still hasn’t been repaired, thus causing streets and streets to be shut, houses that look as if they are about to fall down, parking chaos in the main streets and plenty of space on the side roads which nobody uses.

We stayed with friends of Havoc Blythe on one of the main streets (how could he possibly manage to organise all that within such a short space of time?)   Lovely people - all of whom said that they “worked for the government” but wouldn’t elaborate.  Another mystery.  They seemed on very close terms with HB - as if were one of them, rather than a maths teacher.

Friday night we went to what should have been the Humphrey Littleton Band - except “Humph” as we jazz fans call him died a few months back, so instead we got a tribute band.  I expected a night club, dingy lighting, lots of smoke (although I know that’s illegal), lakeloads of drink…

But in fact it was a courtyard outside a pub, with a temporary roof and seating.  Yes, a jazz concert with seating!   And the average age of the audience was 130.  We were by far the youngest there and got strange looks from everyone else in the audience, and suggestive comments from members of the band who were old enough to be my grandfather.

It started at 8 and finished at 10.30, and although there was drinking, that was mostly by members of the band.   Apparently the concert had been sold out on the first day tickets were issued.  How DID HB get us those tickets???

Saturday saw us all at Ironbridge.   After seeing the bridge, and a couple of museums we had lunch at a cafe opposite the bridge itself and had what must be the worst pastie I have ever had in my life, served by the rudest woman it has ever been my displeasure to meet, who also had no idea how to handle money.

HB suggested we might write a book on the cafes of England.  Binky said it was amazing that they had not only built the first iron bridge, but that they had chosen to build it in a town called Ironbridge.  What, she wondered were the chances of that?

Saturday night saw us at another jazz concert.   I thought it excellent - but after 20 minutes a trombonist turned up.  Apparently he was a member of the band and should have been there from the start, but he had had too much to drink at lunchtime, and had woken up late.

Later I saw the man who was organising the whole festival, fast asleep in his chair at the front while the band were still playing.  I suppose this is what jazz is all about - I drank modestly, but I did enjoy it.

Sunday saw us do more sight seeing, followed by a great lunch, and then the journey back.  No sign of Berlosconi, no messages on my mobile, nothing.   It was just a lovely weekend.  I can face school tomorrow, full of confidence, bravado, and the certainty that our headteacher will not get me down.

I march into the future with confidence.

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »

29/06/2008 by April First.

Friday: a calm and quiet day compared with recently, until midafternoon

Ms Hopple managed to turn in a register that, as far I could ascertain, bore some relationship to reality.  A number of parents of children not at the school telephoned and offered us money.

The backlog of people with toothache is starting to decline and one of the dentists brought Janice and I a nice bunch of flowers each - infinitely nicer in fact than the rubbish the head bought me when trying to express his mangled feelings.

One of the NQTs asked if he could sit in the office for a while, where he cried quietly for much of the day.

But of course it couldn’t last and ultimately it was the head who derailed an otherwise quiet and normal day. I have noticed that he has taken to getting into his car, and driving around the carpark while smoking, throughout much of the day. On his way out he puts his head around the door and says he’ll be back shortly, and on the way back he announces he is back. A strange ritual and seemingly harmless.

However today on seeing the Latvian’s flowers he sidled up to my desk in that annoying sideways way he has, leaned towards me with the sort of frown that makes one think he is practising for a part in a WH Auden lookalike contest, and said that he absolutely, totally, completely must see me this weekend.

I said it was overwhelmingly, astonishingly and utterly impossible. He said it was vital - for the well-being of the school - which I find hard to imagine. I said I was being measured for a coffin in case I died on saturday, but he would not take anything slightly resembling a negative for an answer.

Eventually he meandered off luck a duck trying to paddle without realising it is on dry land, and wouldn’t you know it, within seconds Dr Havoc-Blythe was in the office asking if there was a problem.

Not even bothering to wonder how he manages to do it, I told him what had just happened, and he instantly suggested that Janice, Binky and I join him for a couple of nights in Ludlow to witness the annual jazz festival. I have no knowledge of jazz, nor do I know where Ludlow is, but Janice and I agreed in a trice.

HB would pick me up at 5pm at my house, and by then would have all arrangements made. As he left the office I looked at Janice. She smiled and shrugged. Whatever it was going to be like, it would not be worse than being stalked by the headteacher.

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »

27/06/2008 by April First.

I put a note into Ms Hopple’s register saying that both Vladimir and Augusta were nominated for prizes for regular attendance and would she send both up to the office with the register.

At break Ms Hopple arrived, forced her way through the 46 members of the teaching staff who were hanging around the office in the normal way that teachers have, and demanded to know the meaning of this “stupid practical joke”. She was apparently referring to Vladimir and Augusta. I looked at her as innocently as I could which mostly involved biting my gums and forcing my lips to stay shut. The hubbub in the room quietened – teachers always like to witness a good brawl, and all attention focussed on Ms Hopple. “There are no such children!” she announced. “I asked the rest of the class and no one has ever heard of them – although a couple suggested I ask Havoc-Blythe.”

“I don’t think they are in the Doctor’s class,” I replied.

“They don’t exist!” she shouted.

“But you have been marking them present,” I told her with exaggerated calmness. (If you have never witnessed exaggerated calmness you’ll have to use your imagination).

“I shall report this to the head,” she said, growing redder by the second.

“He is at the dentist’s,” I told her utilising an in-joke which you’ll only get if you have been following this diary for several weeks, “but I will be pleased to hand over your register on his return. That should solve everything since it is a legal record I believe and it shows your confirmation of the appearance or these non-existent pupils.”

Janice fell off her chair and had to be helped up by Mrs Marchmount who seemed to be enjoying the show.

Ms Hopple had had enough and turned to leave – but the throng of teachers behind her, all jostling for a better view made it impossible for her to move. She lowered her voice to somewhat just above screaming, and demanded to know why I was doing this to her.

“To encourage you to be 100% accurate in completing your register,” I said evenly. “I thought of sending you a frog each morning. Then I thought of sending you the parents who scream and shout that we are supposed to be a school but we can’t even fill in a register correctly, every time I phone them to check where the pupils are, who are, amazingly, in your classroom all the time. But in the end I thought I would start with a gentle piece of humiliation. Get the register right and it stops. Get it wrong and I raise the game a little. And there is always Columbus.”

There was silence. Ms Hopple turned and this time the crowd parted for her, each teacher shuffling away, several removing their attendance registers as they went, even though afternoon registration was still several hours away.

As the room emptied Mrs Marchmount approached. I thought for a dreadful second she was going to hug me, but instead she shook my hand, thanked me and wiped a tear from her eye. I told her it was the least I could do after what she had done for me vis a vis the head’s attempt to have me sacked. It was, all in all quite an emotional day.

I returned to my desk. There was a frog on my computer. I decided to call it Constance.

At home there was a postcard saying that people of some significance would be in touch soon, and that as long as I was still minded to explore this area of work I should put a dandelion in a small jug on my windowsill where it could be seen from the road. I called Janice and Havoc-Blythe but both denied all knowledge.

You can go back and read the whole of the Diary from its start (and thus get the hang of what on earth is going on) by clicking on the Archives for April on he left and then clicking on the 10 – the first day of the entry. You can read more about the more down-to-earth doings of the School of Educational Administration at www.admin.org.uk If you have any comments you can leave them for public display, or write to April@admin.org.uk

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »

26/06/2008 by April First.

Ms Hopple marked both Vladimir and Augusta as present. I sent her a note asking her to confirm that both were wearing school uniform today and asking her to remind Vladimir of his dental appointment at 10.30am. With the afternoon register I sent a note asking her to explain why Vladimir had not gone for his check-up. There was no reply.

The head asked to see me in his deputies office (his office now being a dental centre as you will recall), and as we seemed to have reached a quieter phase in our relationship I went in.

He started with a mumbled series of apologies, which appeared (although it was hard to catch each word) that he was admitting to being drunk and disorderly outside the Toppled Bollard. I said nothing, and then, without any warning he looked me straight in the eye and said, “I really do love you.”

I told him that I thought he was mistaking me for another - Ms Hopple perhaps - but he insisted it was me he loved. I told him that the age difference made it impossible and he said that he was only eight years older than me and that this made us a perfect match. Getting desperate I said, “but I like older men”, and got up to leave.

“April…” he said, but I turned to the door and left.

An hour later the police arrived and said they were following up on the incident last weekend when I had been involved in an accident after driving at 90 mph along Gravely Hill. The police officer had an odd look about him, so I asked him for more details, confirming that I was April First, and that I did not own a 1958 Hillman Minx. I confirmed that I did, however, live at the address he had, and worked at this school.

“And you were not driving on Gravely Hill on Saturday just before midnight?”

“No,” I told him.

“Are you sure,” said Janice. Sometimes her humour gets the better of her.

“I am sure you are right,” said the officer. “The April First we want is 18 years old, has died blonde hair and weighs somewhat more than you do ma’am, if I may say so.”

“So what’s going on?” asked Havoc-Blythe, who had arrived on the scene with that unnerving ability of his.

“A woman of the type I have just described was involved in an accident as I have outlined on saturday night. She gave her name as April First, gave your home address, and gave this school as the place of work. She even gave the correct postcodes for both the school and the home - we always check that. Most criminals just say that they can’t remember the postcode or they make something up. An 18 year old who knows both your home and your work details is doing research.”

We confirmed that we had no idea who this could be, although I did suggest the police officer might want to talk to the headmaster, who himself would know all my details. I agreed the head was not an overweight 18 year old woman with died blond hair, but that “one never knew these days”. The officer gave me a curious look and sauntered off in the direction of the Latvian dentists.

We spent much of the rest of the day in conference but came to no very serious conclusions.

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »

24/06/2008 by April First.

With no headteacher immediately apparent in school I returned my thoughts to where I had been a week ago – which largely involved arguing with Ms Hopple.

The first thing to do was to add the imaginary Augusta Pillow to Ms Hopple’s class.  On getting the registers back I noted she was marked present, as was Vladimir Charleston.  Sent a note to Ms Hopple telling her that Charleston and Pillow had been caught together in the Forbidden Zone that morning playing with spiders, and that the head wanted to see them in his study at once.   Ms Hopple sent a note back saying that both had appeared to have absconded.    

Sent a note to Dr Havoc-Blythe suggesting that Constance would be at home over the next few days.   He sent one back asking whether I meant Lady C of PG Wodehouse fame or Ms C Hopple of inability to complete a register fame.  How typical of him to unravel even the most cryptic of clues within a trice.  I still don’t know how I know all this new stuff -  is it really that I have simply liberated my left brain?

Our efforts in administration which resulted in the arrival of the Latvians at school have,  apparently, been instrumental in the securing of a loan arrangement for a left sided midfielder who has just joined the school to Tottenham Hotspur and the signing of youth forms with teams in Spain for two of our promising teenagers.  Did I really do that?  If so, it is benefiting the school.  The Head of Sport (whose name I can’t recall) rushed in to tell me that as a result of the transfers Tottenham and the teams from Spain will be making “donations” to our sports funds, which will allow us to buy all sorts of new equipment,  have the first XI pitch relayed and other exciting things.  He was so thrilled, and so completely certain that I did it all, that he asked me out for a celebratory meal.  Remembering my last encounter with him, I declined.

I had by this time forgotten all about the mysterious postcard in the window affair.  However when I got home I found a note which thanked me for putting the postcard in the window, and which confirmed that I had a rare ability that could well be of use to certain government agencies.  If I would like to take this further I might like to note that I was being head-hunted for delicate work of national importance, and I could explore this  opportunity by putting the enclosed postcard (this one being blue) in my window tomorrow morning. 

I called Janice – and after some soul searching Havoc Blythe (he may be a pain but he seems to know everything).

It was agreed I should continue negotiations with the government agencies on behalf of what he now called The Consortium.  I wondered  if the Consortium included Binky as well as himself, Janice and me, but I didn’t ask.

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »

23/06/2008 by April First.

Weekend

Went to see my dad on Saturday, gave him a full update, and as always he listened attentively.  “You have,” he said after hearing me out, “an unnerving ability to disrupt any organisation into which you are placed.”

I told him that I completely agreed.

“Get a job which values such abilities,” he said, and he went on to remind me of my last job where Janice and I worked for the National Nuclear Power Authority.

“They closed it,” I said.  “And besides it was never officially acknowledged.”

“And now you are a school administrator.”

“It’s a good job,” I told him.  “I know you think I should be bringing down foreign governments, foiling drugs racketeers, exposing paedophile rings, defeating the arms industry, ending the power of the Taliban, closing Guantanamo Bay, stopping the surveillance of parents by local councils.  But we have ended the dental crisis – the ten Latvians in the head’s study are working flat out, and if you want a dentist you can get one.”

“And what of all those estate agents begging you for the use of your cupboards?” he asked.

“That is a problem,” I conceded.  “But I have sorted out the parking problems in my road sorted out.   That’s something.”

I think he wants me to take over the government or something, and I said I’d think about it.

As I drove home I reflected, and not for the first time, that there was something rather special about my dad.   It doesn’t matter what I do, he is supportive and finds something positive.  And as he always says, there is something strangely satisfying about exposing the silliness that exists inside organisations.   But I’ve never seen a job spec that says, “Young woman wanted who can disrupt organisations and entire governments on a worldwide basis.”

But I decided to keep a look out, just in case.

By the time I reached the outskirts I imagined myself as Super Administrator, hired by organisations to get a job with their competitors, wreck the joint, and then move on, collecting a double salary as I moved around  the country.   It seemed appealing.

I stopped on the way back to call Janice, and she said that the quiz night was going ahead as usual at the Bollard, so I parked outside my house (and I was right, the parking problem was resolved following our activities earlier in the month,) and walked to the pub.

Janice, Havoc-Blythe, Binky and me wiped the floor with all the other teams.  In fact Binky really pulled her weight by answering the question on what Gibbons saw as the two central causes of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire (the Praetorian Guard and the rise of Christianity).   Eventually Havoc-Blythe confessed that he had lent her a copy of his right brain book.   I looked at him, and the way that he was sitting very close to Binky, and wondered if I hadn’t been mistaken about him and Janice.

In the interval I gave them a run down on my father’s support.  Havoc-Blythe nodded in that annoying way he has, and said, “He’s spot on.” 

“And why are you working in our school?” I asked.   He smiled in that even more annoying way he has, and got in the next round of drinks.  I’ll say this for Havoc- Blythe, he never stints on the drinks.

Sunday

Janice phoned and asked if I didn’t think it odd that each of us had all this amazing knowledge in our heads.  I reminded her of the book about using your right brain, and she said, “Is it that simple?”

I said I guessed it was – all I had done was read the book and then practised letting my right brain take over and sending my left brain off to sleep.

“That’s what I did,” said Janice, “and now Binky does it.  But do you really think it works?”

I said I thought it probably did.

“So why don’t we tell all the kids at school.  In fact, why do we have school apart from to tell them to get their right brains in gear and stop buggering about?”

“Because we’d undermine the entire system of education in the United Kingdom?” I asked.

“And put 250,000 teachers out of work,” added Janice, “not to mention quite a few administrators.”

“Even so…” I said.

We decided to try somewhere different for lunch.  I certainly didn’t want to see the head falling out of a pub again, and I didn’t really want to see Havoc Blythe either.  We went to the Creationists Bar.

I like the place, with its huddle of philosophers at one end of the long room, and the mirror that goes all the way down one side – reputedly the longest mirror in a pub in the UK.

The tactic of avoiding the head and Havoc-Blythe worked, but my satisfaction was somewhat overtaken by the fact that a couple came and sat at our table, told us that they recognised us from the school’s web site, and that they wanted their children to get into the school.

Janice, less annoyed at having our chat interrupted, asked why our school in particular should be the focus of such attention.  “I know we are good,” she added, “but there are other schools around…”

“But next term’s results are amazing,” said the man.

I told him to state that he was Latvian and his profession was “dentist” and he would be in.

He didn’t express any surprise at this, and the couple went back to their table.

“Next term’s results…” I said to Janice.

She shrugged.

Is it me, or is everything getting a bit strange?

Posted in News | Print | No Comments »