Welcome to The School Office

Hey Friend!

How’s things with you?

It’s not only darker here, in London, but also colder now too. The heating is on and the duvet coat, hat, scarf and gloves are essential when heading outdoors. Even though it’s freezing, there’s something quite satisfying about the crunch of frost-encrusted leaves underfoot.

Older Miss is settling in to university life, joining lots of societies, making new friends and sleeping in late without me moaning that she’s been in bed for far too long. It’s definitely quieter at home without her here everyday but we’re finding a new rhythm.

Working in a school is great for the holidays, especially when you have children. The problem is you’re always on a countdown until the next break. Today marks four weeks until the end of term and Christmas talk has already begun in my house. By now, the children would have argued to have the tree up but as OM isn’t back until early December, that will have to wait.

A couple of weeks ago, we celebrated my Mum’s 80^th birthday. It’s the first time probably since she became an adult that anyone has been allowed to know her age! We had a brilliant evening of dinner, speeches and dancing but it took me the whole week before I could shake the tiredness after an exceptionally late night. I mean, who in their late forties goes to bed at 2am on a regular basis and still functions as a normal human being? I salute you, whoever you are.

Being a bit tired has meant I’ve been less tolerant with the children who come to the office for medical attention.

Don’t get me wrong – when there’s a genuine concern, my first aid skills are put to good use. Not that I remember everything from my three-day training back in June, but I have my trusty book to guide me and that’s all that matters!

Anyway…

It’s the children who come to me just as the bell has gone to signal the end of lunch, who suddenly have a pain only an ice pack will fix. They’re also the ones silly enough to be practically break-dancing in full view but think I was the only person in the entire school not to see them.

‘Go to your lesson and no, I’m not giving you a note for being late.’

You have the genuine ones who’ve taken a tumble or had a bit of a bump and they get an ice pack, no problem. Yet, when I go to collect said ice pack, I’m told their leg/knee/arm etc. still hurts.

‘Yes, because there’s likely a bruise and the ice pack isn’t magic. Go back to class’ (These ones do get a note at least).

One girl disappeared with the ice pack I gave her even though we ask them to sit outside so we can keep an eye on them. She returned over an hour later and said, ‘Miss, this ice pack is warm and it’s not doing anything.’

‘Didn’t I give that to you before lunch?’

‘Yes.’

‘So why are you surprised it’s melted?’

She nodded and walked away.

The office isn’t just for medical needs but for all sorts of nonsense apparently.

Like the boy who came to tell me he’d stepped in fox poo. My immediate response was: ‘And you trailed it in here?!’ He held his hands up saying he’d walked on the side of his foot. My breathing calmed and we stood looking at each other. Turns out he was hoping I’d clean it for him! And when I told him he’d have to do it, he wailed, ‘I don’t want to!’

My response was simple: ‘Tough. Bye.’

He came back several minutes later saying he couldn’t get it all off. I was out of words by then so I said nothing. He eventually got the message and skulked away.

I’m off now to enjoy a hot chocolate with a slice of blueberry and chocolate cake (yes, I did just bake a cake on a whim on a Monday evening). More on the children’s antics another time.

Speak soon xx