Studs and Stilettos

Lesson 5 - never make an ass of yourself in front of the pupils

Thursday.

I've been employed for three days and I don't want to remember any of them.

It's not that I can't do my subject – that's easy. It's all the other things that I don't know about like Biology for instance. I'm expected to teach this subject that I've never ever done before in my life. I don't know a heart from an onion and those two little boys who run the Department have merely handed over the text book and sheets of typed paper which they call a specification.

'Would you like a lift this morning?'

Brutus is trying to make amends for the fact that he is secretly employed in the sex industry. Pippa eats burnt toast, reads the paper and surreptitiously kicks the anus skidding Samantha.

'Why?'

'Well, I am passing your school on my way to a...a...client.' Brutus furiously signals with his eyeballs. His bubble is saying..." please don't give me away". 'I'll tell you about my new boyfriend.'

'Boyfriend!' Pippa and I both look up. Even Samantha has stopped irrigating her colon on the carpet and pricks up her flappy ears.

'What happened to Gabriel?'

'Too serious.'

'And Gavin?'

'Boring.'

'What about Leon, Fritz and Hans? I thought you liked poncing around in lederhosen and having a good spanking.'

'Germans are SOooo demanding.' Brutus rolls his eyes.

'Good morning Miss Niccus.'

He's been waiting at the gate - for me: I could see him as I struggled up the drive with a splitting Sainsburys bag containing a leaden weight of inky books.

How does he know my name?

'Hello.' I'm very noncommittal but I could easily be bowled over by this tall, blonde praline-eyed physical masterpiece of human engineering.

'I'm Edwin Huxley-Hartburn. Head Boy of this school. I have been instructed by our Head of Science to give you a guided tour of the establishment and tell you a little of its history.'

Geegaws! What a stunner and how beautifully said.

'Would you like to proceed or shall I make an alternative appointment – at your convenience of course?'

'Um...er...'

'Let me take your carrier bag and we can discuss the matter as we walk. The Science staffroom is your destination I believe?'

Is he taking the butternut squash or is he for real?

I know he disapproves of my environmentally unfriendly plastic bag: he's got organic, wholefood, wholegrain, omega-3 fish oils for a bigger brain stamped all over his perfectly brushed blazer, silk tie and 24 carat gold shining badge of office.

Now Cammie. Who is in charge here? This is a boy...pupil...school kid: not a member of the Royal family or one of the Sunday Times rich list. Be assertive. Be firm. You choose when you want to go on this tour – or even if you want to tour at all. He's a kid in adult's clothing. Under that neat and perfect façade there is the body of.......

Suddenly the little guardian angel of my conscience hacks the machete of guilt into my primitive female brain.

'Thank you. A tour would be lovely. I'm ready at any time that's convenient to you. You must be very busy what with being Head Boy and all that and I'm just a mere Chemistry teacher. I'll go whenever you want, wherever you want to take me and, please, let me take the bag...it's just books you know. Marking. I think I've done it ok – I used my best orange gel pen so the boys won't get stressed about lots of crosses and nasty comments: government guidelines and all that. Mustn't stress school kids. No...really...it was my fault the bag split. Let me pick those books up, you are far too important and besides you might get something on your blazer. These carrier bags. So unreliable. Only thing we had at home. Just keep them to put the dogs dropping in when she goes out for a walk....... Ten o'clock then. After prefect duty and assembly and your meeting with the Head and the governors and the local MP to organise your gold Duke of Edinburgh award. Fine. I'll call for you then shall I?'

Edwin smiles graciously down and with the merest affirmative nod of his perfectly coiffured head he turns and struts majestically towards the sixth form block. From my kneeling position, books clasped to my chest I watch his retreating figure then turning slightly I feel a shadowy presence and there is Jerry and several of my year 10 class smirking maliciously down at me. Lorcan and Piers turn quickly away, heads tossing in unison, the polished leather brief cases containing so much A* work disappearing into the distance.

I stand in the science prep room when everyone else is in assembly and bang my head with the biggest Chemistry textbook on the planet.