385. Teachers need training (4)

After all the tone was encouraging me to take my time. So I did. I marvelled at the sharp contrasts in the spring skies, at the lime green meadows and the overflowing rivers. When I reached the town centre and the school I had to face the fact that I did not know where the staff car park was. It was not signposted. Anyway I was in such a blissful mood that I did not care. I parked in a tiny side street where it said free parking for one hour. I paid for one so if the training session was as unbearable as usual I would have the perfect excuse to slip out.

I reached reception and after passing through a mysterious security system, which consisted in a rickety garden gate tied with a bit of gardening wire and of all doors being closed but one. I felt in a sort of cage, plant pots to my right, reception windows to my left, the only open door behind me and the rickety gate in front - which I could push open but did not dare. There was a sign that read PLEASE REPORT TO RECEPTION AND PRESENT ID.

OH NO. ID. Did I even have ID? I hate that you have to have ID on you at all times in this country. Luckily I do not tidy my bag often and have been using the same one for a while and there was some ID. My heart sank, I should have lied and be refused entry. But the lady in the glass cage was so smiley end friendly I gave her my ID, signed the useless bit of paper and enquired about the car parking situation.

'Oh, I'm really terribly sorry but there is no carpark for visiting teachers.'

If she had not been that nice I would have pointed out that I was not a 'visiting' teacher, I was a teacher that had - for some reason I could not fully comprehend - been ordered to take part in this mission. If I had been super organised I would have waved the ordre de mission in front of the glass window and asked when this institution was going to do something about use of vocabulary.

But I was in too good a mood and she was so friendly. And also, to be honest I was happy to have the excuse to pop back out. Until she informed me. 

'All right then my dear, you go up the couple of steps here to the right, cross the hall and straight in front of you go through the doors - only one is open - and then you cross the playground and then you go up the steps to reach the doors of the big building there. And you are in room 609. That's on the sixth floor.'

I must have stopped smiling stupidly. But then the colleague behind me - late too - said thank you in a cheerful voice and so off we went happily on a kind of treasure hunt!'

We managed all right and reached the bottom of the dreaded stair case and headed for the lift.

KEY HOLDERS ONLY

Great. Six floors. I would have to go back down and back up six floors every two hours. My idea to get a little break form the boring session did not seem so good anymore. ANd it was all the way downhill from there. My apologies for being late were met by an only thinly disguised criticism for choosing to drive rather than take the train (which my colleague who was late too had) which meant I made a tiny sharp comment which sent a chill in the room as if they had been sitting happily here. There was no more coffee - a ridiculously small jug was on the desk - and no biscuits, no water, no juice. Of course, I was thirsty after the trek.

We sat down and honestly within minutes I was bored. I started to check my watch because I would not like to be late for the parking meter. The women (two of them!) did the usual and commented slides that were on the educational authorities websites anayway and I became really really bored and felt sorry for myself.

I put my hand up to say I needed to go down for the meter and they thought it was a good idea to have a break. So of I went down six flights of stairs. I met a really nice man who told me there was a free carpark 5 minutes from the school. I went parked and enjoyed that walk back. I bought a bottle of water risking an other nasty comment about plastic and the planet of whatever. My happy mood was running out of steam. I went back up the stairs for the usual 'get into groups and share your thoughts about this' and I was happy to see that most people started to moan and groan discreetly. I was wishing I was still paying for the parking.

Then after we all 'presented our findings to the group' lunch time was announced along with a mention that it was not allowed to eat in the room. Everyone smiled, nodded then ignored this. I decided the stairs were not a problem and I went back down again. I waved to the receptionist who must have wondered who this yo-yo teacher was.

I had lunch in a civilised brasserie and even had a glass of wine to help with the afternoon session. I was glad I did because the afternoon was a question-and-answer session. We very helpfully asked plenty of questions to which the teacher trainers had no answers. They kept saying things like What do you think? or Does anyone have suggestions here? and again This is a really good question and we should think about this together.

I kept checking my watch and scratching my head wondering if I got the wrong room and was in some kind of group therapy session about people with burn-out or people with a drinking problem. What was I doing here? I wish I had taken the train and had an excuse to leave early.