204. Lazy teachers ( 1/6)

I was spending the afternoon lazing around on the sofa. I shouldn't have. I should have kept busy. If I had kept busy I wouldn't have picked up the phone - which was within easy reach - then put it to my ear not even noticing that the caller ID was WORK DO NOT ANSWER. But it was too late. The early bird catches the worm and the lazy teacher answers the call. 

And then it is too late.

'Allo? Madame F, s'il vous plaît?' Oh the shrill unpleasant voice which stirred me from my sleepy daze.

Imagine you are stuck in an office and you think about all the lazy teachers at home (on their sofas) with no papers to mark and suddenly your boss comes in with a list (of lazy teachers) and tells you to phone them one by one and tell them they are to be in some school somewhere the following morning at 8 AM. You would sound just like she did. Important. Useful. Virtuous.

And now imagine you are the (hard-working) teacher having a rest on your sofa after a hard day's work preparing lessons for the new syllabus that the government has decided was essential but has given you no handbook to implement it. And you got a call like that. That was me. Struck dumb.

'Allo? Madame F, s'il vous plaît?'

I mumbled and grumbled at the same time. I happen to be really good at this. Maybe it has something to do with having so many teenagers around me.

She couldn't make out what I was saying. And therefore couldn't tell if I was the lazy teacher on her list or not.

'Allo? Madame F, s'il vous plaît? Je voudrais parler à Madame F.' 

'Speaking.' I finally said, clearly and loudly, annoyed that she couldn't make out what I was saying. I wanted to ask what the matter was calling me like that on a Wednesday afternoon at 4:45. I knew if she was still in the office making calls it must be both urgent and important. I would probably have to leave the sofa.

'Madame F, I was wondering. Have you checked your mailbox?'

Every time I am asked that questions I want to a) scream 2) hit someone. This task has a) become an obsession at work 2) is an impossible one to accomplish for us hard-working teachers of L'école de la République because we have so many mailboxes and mail applications that we are like a bunch of headless chickens trying to figure out which box to open. She didn't give me time to answer her question anyway (just as well) and went on and on in a sing-song voice, pausing now and then to have a giggle. 

'Anyway ... ha ha ha ... even if you had you wouldn't have found anything ... ha ha ha ... as it has just come in ... ha ha ha ... and that is why I am phoning you.'

Hilarious. Laugh out loud stuff. Honestly.

'You have to be in D tomorrow at 8 AM ... ha ha ha ... and also Friday at 8 AM ... or 9AM ... it is not very clear ... ha ha ha ...'

'Right ... Ok ... No problem. Am I to be there for the whole day?'

'... Erm (no more triumphant ha ha ha) ... I am not sure ... but yes, yes, I guess yes.'

'You don't know?' I said sounding truly appalled. Surely she had the details of the mission.

'Yes, yes, now they said to us prepare meals so it must be for the whole day each time. I am going to mail you the ordre de mission (please don't laugh you guys outside France).'

'But please wait before you check your mailbox. Wait until I have phoned all the teachers on my list ...'

I didn't ask which mail box, nor did I ask how many names on the list.'

I switched the call off and did what I always do in times of crisis. Called my husband. He was trying hard to be sympathetic but that was not enough for me so I called the kids and told them how mummy had - completely out of blue - just got a call from work and that she wouldn't be there for them. They did not seem to care, worse, they sounded almost happy. Then I bombarded some friends with some desperate messages for support and comfort. To tell the truth they sounded relieved it wasn't them. The dog looked like he cared the most. 

So I just sat back down on the sofa. And put my phone on silent.