Without waiting for a reply, she hit ‘End Meeting’, grabbed a pillow and howled.
* * *
At ten to eight on Monday morning, she pulled into a parking space, of which there seemed to be plenty, and hoped there wouldn’t be someone cursing her behind her back. She reminded herself to breathe mindfully and control catastrophic thinking. Roger Newcombe met her just inside the front door. He was wearing an almost identical jacket to the one he wore for her interview, except in a browner hue. She’d been bracing herself for his previous dismissive tone but instead relief flooded his face.
‘Thank heavens you’re here. Three staff have phoned in so far, two with the vomiting bug, the other with a herniated disc, and my vice principal is still out. Can you stand in with Fourth Class?’
‘Absolutely.’
First rule of improvisation: say yes to everything and take it from there. Despite the shock of Josie’s news, she’d spent Sunday evening combing the internet for teaching tips so at least she’d made a list of what to ask, which was just as well, as she could feel her mind moving into overwhelm.
‘Could you please let me know which subject matter I’m to teach them? Also, who is the main teacher?’
He looked at her strangely. ‘You’re not an assistant teacher, you’re a substitute teacher. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but these days you’re like hen’s teeth.’
That was a pleasant new experience for her; it beat cattle-call auditions, anyway.
She followed the directions down the corridor to the left and into classroom 4B. Once the lights were switched on, it revealed itself as bright and cheerful, a far cry from the overcrowded classrooms she remembered from her own childhood. Still, there was that familiar smell of pencils, markers, rubbers. Collages made with lollipop sticks and glitter lined the walls, alongside a notice about diversity.
That was new – at least nowadays they made a point of including people. In her day, diversity consisted of one poor kid from somewhere else who became a spectacle until finally everyone just got bored and moved on. She took the little chairs down off the tables and looked at her watch. Quarter past eight. In half an hour a crowd of ten-year-olds would be piling in and she hadn’t a clue where to start. Help.
She stuck her head out of the classroom door to see a door across the corridor marked 4A and a name plate that saidMiss Traynor– clearlysomeone who was important enough to merit their own plaque. She stuck her head around the door to see a head of copper-coloured curls bent over a desk.
‘Er, excuse me .?.?. Hi, I’m Cassie, I’m the sub for 4B.’
The other teacher, about five years younger than herself, looked up from where she was correcting homework in copybooks that hadn’t changed remotely in thirty years.
‘I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving me a heads-up about what they’re doing. If you don’t mind.’
If the other woman felt the slightest flash of irritation, she didn’t show it; she stood up with a warm smile and immediately advanced towards Cassie with her hand out.
‘Hi, I’m Maggie. It’s so daunting the first day in a new school, isn’t it?’
‘Actually, it’s my first day in any school – as a teacher, that is.’
Maggie didn’t miss a beat. ‘Am I glad to have you! Otherwise, I’d be running between them, trying to cover two classes for the day. Head-wrecker.’
She continued to smile warmly, prompting a glow of gratitude in Cassie, who vowed from that moment onwards to be just as kind and lovely to anyone she ever met for the rest of her life.
‘Come on, there’s nothing to it, I’ll show you.’ Maggie showed her the timetable on the wall back in 4B.
‘You’re starting with English for the first forty-five minutes, then geography, then SPHE.’
‘SPHE?’
Maggie looked at her curiously.
‘You don’t have kids yourself?’
‘Er, not yet, I mean .?.?. no. But I’m a quick learner.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Here’s the books. Just stay one lesson ahead of the kids and you’ll be fine. Oh look, Marie has marked exactly where she’s got to, so you can pick up from there – simple. I wouldn’t bother with “Word Wizard”,that’s quite technical,I’d start with the reading book and get them to discuss it.’
Cassie smiled gratefully. She choseWhy the Whales Cameby Michael Morpurgo – that was something she could definitely do – and then it was geography, followed by SPHE, or Social, Personal and Health Education. In their regular teacher’s book there was a note:Who am I? How do I fit in with friends?OK, she could definitely manage that. In fact, she could do with a bit of it herself. A little role-play or game would be fine and that would get her as far as break time.
Maggie explained that all of the teachers up to Fourth Class had to meet the children at the gate and lead them in a line back to the classroom. Crikey, talk about feeling like an impostor. She gratefully followed Maggie out to the yard, where a bewildering array of children of all sizes were milling about.
‘And this is 4B.’ Maggie indicated a column of ten-year-old boys and girls. ‘Good luck and see you on the other side.’
