Staff only: Please sir, can I come back to my old school?
One day back in school after getting over swine flu and it all came rushing back: just why it was such a relief to get out of the place.
I don't know, maybe there's a hitherto undiscovered symptom of the virus that your mind distorts reality, but looking back I'd take the sweats, the runs and the aches over that lot in 4th Year.
All this freedom and time to think made me feel restless and as yesterday was strike day I saw it as a chance to do something different. I knew that the principal of the beloved school of my teenage years would be in situ, catching up on paperwork and picking his nose like he used to, so I set off along a lovely new motorway, arrived there in no time to pull up outside the familiar decrepit and hideous building to be met by the familiar decrepit and hideous caretaker from the old days.
"What's wrong with you?" he grunts by way of greeting. I ask for Mr Duff the principal and sure enough he mutters something about him not being available. Ignoring him, I go through the front entrance like a real grown-up and knock on his door. Having met him over the past few years at conferences, he actually knows who I am; which is more than I can say about the years I spent in his geography class.
Actually, he knew the name of just one of my class mates because he had played rugby with his dad, but still insisted on calling him 'Buck', the dad's meathead nickname.
Most of the time he just called us 'you' and we called him 'Thud' because of the sound it made when his fist made contact with our backs. Anyway, we're both teachers together now and all that's forgotten.
Thud, sorry Mr Duff, welcomes me to his office and I have to admit that the adult me really likes him. Duff's affability combines sweetly with cherished memories of neat rows of desks in an atmosphere of respect based on genuine fear, each class standing to attention when a teacher entered calling out the special school prayer, having to do homework even when you'd missed a day.
There was a real culture of discipline that meant that there was always a chance you'd get into trouble, even when you had done nothing wrong, all missing nowadays. So there I am, begging him for a job, just like I begged him 25 years ago not to assault me for writing 'Simple Minds' on my copybook.
Sadly he doesn't need anyone with my subjects. Tearfully I promise to call in again next time I pass to visit what remains of the crusty crowd that taught me if they haven't all died already or retired this year.
Of course I know it's all changed in the old school too. My school might be rubbish but theirs can't be much better. You can't go back -- just forward.
- E Grade
Irish Independent
