220. Back to school (2)

We can see a man at the other end of the yard and he is walking towards us. Like the survivors of a shipwreck we start calling out and wave frantically. We manage to catch the man’s attention and he looks as if he is going to come towards us but then changes course and disappears into the building.

‘The meeting must have started.’ I say, a little desperate now. This is not a good way to start the year. How on earth are we going to cope? We have already missed so much of the grand assembly.

‘Maybe he saw us and he’s gone inside to open the gates?’ My friend has decided to focus on hope.

And this is when we hear a squeak, followed by a creak, and then the sound of metal scraping concrete. We look up. The gates are definitely moving, slowly and hesitantly, noisily too (I think two months to oil the thing) and we realise that the two wide gates open rather than the single one to the side. My wishes for the grand opening are coming true. I really want to jump up and down and clap and yell ‘welcome back to school’ but this is no laughing matter. I am back at work and I need to make a good impression. The man is now coming to greet us, he looks pleased to have pressed the right button.

We should now be running and rushing towards the meeting room but we choose to kiss the man (after all this is France) and we thank him for allowing us access to our workplace. He tells us that the grand meeting is in process and it will be hard to get in there without being noticed. The whole front of the building is made of glass and a crowd of people can be seen sitting in neat rows, paying attention and taking notes as we appear in full view (it doesn’t help that my friend is wearing a purple jacket and I have pink trainers on). They can see us coming round and legging it to hide behind the hedge only to reappear in full view a few yards down. A few heads turn towards us, I cannot see whether they laugh or look horrified. 

We push the door and walk into a room packed with teachers, all heads turn towards us in one single movement. We freeze. Everyone is staring at us - reproachfully. All eyes focused on the lone chair at the end of the front row. One. Chair. We need two. Chairs. I spot the kitchen staff sitting at the far end looking bored and they point to a couple of spare seats. I think I have made a bad enough impression and I think sitting with the chefs - although I’d love - might not be the way to save the day. I walk across the hall, grab a chair and bring it back next to the other one and we sit down, relieved. We have made it!

Yet very soon I realise I should have hidden behind the hedge: we are right next to the speakers (they look like speakers a rock band would use for a concert) but the sound is too loud and of a very poor quality which means that people scream into the microphones. On the screen behind there is a succession of slides showing graphs and tables. I have only been here five minutes and I am bored, have sore ears and a sore head. I try to look professional by turning the pages of the wad of papers I have been given. The papers on my lap strangely match the slide on the wall. Are we playing ‘spot the differences’?

I take a look at my watch. Three hours to go. And nothing remotely entertaining. I stare at the hedge to see if there are anymore latecomers hiding behind it. Being right at the end of the first row I can see into the hall. The kitchen staff have been released and I can see them busying themselves. This catches my interest and I start to focus my attention on them. They are preparing trays of food and drink! If I sit here patiently for three hours I will get to help myself to canapés and even to a glass of bubbly wine! I am so glad I made it to the grand meeting.