L.if.E (BoyxBoy)

Rebellion - Part 1

I returned to school in September, into the Lower Sixth, which was a whole new experience for me.  Gone were the uniforms, minor rules and strict regulations.  We were now considered adults by the teaching staff, they called us by our first names, and we could call them by Mr, Mrs or Miss followed by their surname, instead of just Sir or Miss.

We also did not need to religiously attend class, though you were expected to make up the work, but best of all we had a common room.  This room was in the attic space of the old school building and was our sanctuary, as only Lower Sixth students were allowed access, and even the teachers had to knock and wait until given permission to enter, the only exception to this was Mr Whittaker (Headmaster) and Mr Jones, our head of year.  Even the Upper Sixth were excluded from our common room, unless invited and accompanied by a Lower Sixth student.  The Upper Sixth’s common room was larger but situated in the cellars of the school, something everyone seemed to like though I personally preferred the airy attic.

The other great thing was the number of Lower Sixth students numbered just thirty-five, compared with my previous year of one hundred and sixty students, and we all wanted to be there which meant we all enjoyed ourselves as well as getting on with our work.

Our room was as large as a normal classroom, but had skylights for windows, plus one little balcony that had French windows opening onto them, a great place to fire an air pistol from without being detected.

Additionally we had the option, which we took up, to furnish it ourselves with whatever we could scrounge off parents, second-hand shops and even rubbish tips.  Therefore seating consisted of three lots of old three-seater sofas, two leather bench seats from the rear of old cars which were mounted on pallet type boarding, several bean-bags and a variety of armchairs and a couple of tables and desks.  However the best things were the old fridge, which worked but made a hell of a noise, though this could be temporarily quietened down by kicking it harshly to one of its sides, and the other two things were the kettle and the toaster. 

All of this made us feel very important and elevated us above the rest of the school rabble.  However, as all Sixth Year students were automatically Prefects and therefore had the same authority as the junior teachers, this feeling of importance combined with the new found authority made some sixth formers behave initially like bullies.  That was until they were spoken to in no uncertain terms, and in some cases physically restrained, by the elitist group of Senior Prefects from the Upper Sixth called “The Gods”.

The Gods were more frightening than the normal teaching staff because they made their own rules and enforced them rigorously without needing permission from staff members.  Fortunately they tended to be very busy working on their final year assignments or attending various school council meetings, but if they did stir and you saw them in the corridors you tended to take an alternative route just in case they found something to berate you with.

So the Lower Sixth tended to have the run of the corridors most of the time, which for some prefects was like manna from heaven, turning the tables on some of the lower years bullies that may have given them a hard time previously.  Now they had to be obeyed as if they were staff members, as disobeying a prefect was classed as intolerable by senior staff and, unfortunately for some students, contradicting a prefect’s view of an incident was never acceptable, so it was easier to just obey or suffer the consequences in silence.

Now saying all this makes it sound like something archaic and from ‘Tom Browns School Days’ but to be honest most of the time nothing happened.  We all got on well, with little or no friction at all, possibly due to the fact that once out of school grounds you would probably get your head kicked in by some gang of malcontents, so it wasn’t worth the hassle (or possible pain).