59. Race the teacher

Once upon a time I was a teacher of French in an all-boys school. It was near the end of term and everyone was thinking about the summer holidays.

I was teaching in a prefab classroom at the back of the school, quite isolated from all the other buildings. Only the youngest kids were in school, the older ones were on exam leave (those were the days) which contributed to the laid-back atmosphere.

I was teaching Year 7: a group of well-behaved boys who loved doing French (those were the days) and we were in the middle of a lesson when we heard a tap on one of the windows. We turned our heads. Nothing. We continued with the lesson.

'Tom, où est le chat?'

'Le chat est sous la table.'

'Oui! Très bien, Tom, bravo!'

An other tap on the window. But I had been keeping an eye on that window and this time I did see someone banging on the glass, then kneeling down to hide from our view. The boys had seen him too. 

'Miss! It's someone.'

I put my finger on my mouth to tell them to continue as if nothing was the matter.

'John, où est le chien?'

'Le chien est dans le jardin.'

As I continued the lesson I moved towards the back door and unlocked it.

'Oui, bravo, John! Le chien est dans le jardin.'

An other tap on the pane. 

This time I was ready, I abandoned the cat and the dog and the kids and opened the door to rush outside. These were older boys. They saw me and ran away. I starting running too to chase them. It was a wild race. I sprinted and caught up with the last one. I took hold of his backpack. He swivelled round in one swift gesture to shake me off and ended up facing me. I let go of his bag and took hold of his tie instead. He did not like that. He started yelling right away.

'Let me go! Do not touch me!'

He was yelling and spitting in my face (those were the days) so I held him at arm's length.

'You are not allowed to touch me. I'll sue you. Let me go. Let go of me. I'm going to report you!'

And all the while I was just staring at him. Now that I had him by the collar so to speak I did not know what my next move would be. It was now obvious I had not planned this properly. So I said, rather stupidly:

'What's your name?' 

Which set him off. He was wriggling and kicking and I was trying hard to keep hold of him. I was also thinking I needed to think fast or he is going to punch me in the face. There was no way I was going to let him go now. I kept racking my brains but my mind was blank.

'Just tell me your name.' I repeated. 'I just want to know your name.'

But the 15 year-old was not going to give up either. And he went on screaming:

'You cannot touch me! That's not allowed! You've got no right! Let me go or I'll complain about you.'

From the corner of my eye, I could see 7A, a row of neatly arranged faces peering behind the glass. I couldn't see their expressions so I didn't know if they supported me in that matter.

'What's your name? Just give me your name!'

Why would this kid not just give me his name? Or punch me for that matter. The two of us were making a racket. I could not believe no-one was coming to my rescue. This was happening right under the windows of the special unit for dyslexics and I knew the staff there and they were friendly and caring and helpful: so where were they now I needed them? I was just beginning to think straight and was about to ask Year 7 to go and get help when someone came strolling round the corner: the head master.

'Sir, she can't touch me! Can you tell her she's not allowed to touch me.' He was really beginning to do my head in yelling like that! I had recovered my senses and I realised I was very angry. If no-one stopped him I was going to let go of his tie and punch him in the face. Or punch the headmaster for that matter, if he said the wrong thing. 

'Right now it does seem necessary to physically restrain you, young man. So it is allowed.'

 

I let go of the boy who appeared relieved and loosened his tie. The head-master marched him off to his office. I just remained there on the spot. Not knowing what to do, what to think, what had happened.

Then in an instant there was a small crowd around me: my year 7 class all cheering and jumping up and down, the staff from the special unit above were there too. They told me they had indeed heard something was going on but had been wasting time making comments about how good it was to hear that at last a misbehaving pupil was being severely reprimanded. Only as the reprimanding seemed to go on a bit too long had they opened the window, seen me in that ridiculous position and gone to get the head.

Eventually, I was called into the head's office to hear the boy being told that I was right and he was wrong. I cannot remember the punishment, nor much of what was said. But I do remember the whole thing clearly and to this day I am so pleased with myself for not having let go of that tie!