Triumph Over Adversity 3-in-1 Collection. Casey Watson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ down in ten minutes. I saw Mr Brabbiner earlier and he put me in the picture.’

      ‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘They’re working on their project right now, too. So you shouldn’t have any problems.’

      Kelly laughed. She knew as well as I did that things could change in a split second. One minute everything could be hunky dory – as it was now – and the next all hell could break loose. Still, that was what I liked about her, and what set her apart from some of the other TAs – she seemed to thrive on the unknown element of it all, just as I did, and I’d yet to see her faced with anything she couldn’t handle. She was an expert at thinking on her feet.

      I went to sit with the girls for a bit once I’d put down the phone, and had what had become a predictable response from Molly once I’d told them I’d be gone for a bit and that Miss Vickers would be looking after them. She glanced at the boys nervously. ‘You won’t be gone long, will you, Miss? We don’t like it when you leave us, do we, Shona?’

      Shona put a protective arm around her friend. ‘Miss Vickers is all right, Molly,’ she reassured her. ‘She won’t stand for any nonsense, will she, Miss?’

      ‘No, she won’t,’ I agreed, smiling at her grown-up turn of phrase. ‘And there will be no nonsense. Will there, boys?’ I added, raising my voice so they could hear me. ‘Or it’ll be maths practice all afternoon.’

      ‘Where you going anyway, Miss?’ Shona wanted to know.

      ‘To a meeting,’ I said. ‘Not a board meeting but a meeting about a new girl who might be joining us. Her name’s Imogen and we need to see if she’s going to be right for us. I’ll be able to tell you more once I’ve been and met her.’

      Both Shona and Molly exchanged looks (girls and threes didn’t readily blend well – it took time and management), but it was Gavin who spoke up. ‘Another girl?’ he moaned. ‘We don’t want to be invaded by no more girls, Miss. Is she a retard?’

      ‘Gavin!’ I admonished. ‘What have I told you about name-calling? Have you remembered nothing of the exercise we did the other week?’

      His brow furrowed a little as he tried to recall what I meant. We’d done an exercise I tried to fit into the schedule periodically – splitting the kids into two groups and having each one draw a picture of a gingerbread man. This wasn’t in any sense an art exercise, though. I’d then get one set to annotate theirs with any horrible names they had ever called anyone. And with no holds barred – swear words were acceptable on this occasion, if that had been the way the thing had been said. The other group had to do likewise, only this time they had to record any names they recalled having been called, by either adults or other children. I would then swap the drawings over and ask each group to write down how they would feel or how they felt when they had been called any name from the list, and then compile a separate list of reasons why they thought people might call others by these names.

      It was all about developing their emotional literacy; a key part of what my role was in the Unit. And, judging by Gavin’s comment, perhaps I needed to revisit it some time soon.

      ‘Well?’ I said to him.

      ‘Sorry, Miss,’ he mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean nothing. Just wanted to know what she would be, like, doing here.’

      ‘Then you need to think harder about how you’re going to say something before you say it,’ I told him. ‘Because if I hear any more talk like that you will be doing maths practice all afternoon, is that clear?’

      I wasn’t too worried about Gavin, however. He’d had his morning dose of Ritalin and it would be another couple of hours before his ADHD became blindingly obvious again. Then it would be another hour before he was given his meds by the school nurse – an hour when it would be hard for me to leave the classroom. Even Henry, who at 13 was two years Gavin’s senior, didn’t like what he called ‘the mad hour’.

      I smiled at my trio of lads; they’d actually come on really well in terms of behaviour, even though to the casual observer their improvements might seem tiny. But they were still angry little lads, all three of them like tightly coiled springs, and much as we had calm days, we also had the other kind – days when I seemed to be permanently braced and waiting for the next unexpected explosion. It would be a volatile place for this new girl to try and fit in to, there was no doubt about that.

      Kelly arrived bang on cue, clutching two mugs of coffee, one of which I saw was in my superhero mug – it had Batman on one side and Spiderman on the other, and had been a ‘new job’ surprise gift from Kieron. And to date, no one had accidentally walked off with it either; a minor miracle in a school staffroom, apparently. She held it out to me.

      ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Thought I’d make you one while I was at it.’ Then she smiled at the children. ‘You all look like very busy bees. Everything okay?’

      They nodded dutifully. ‘Thanks, love,’ I said to her. ‘That’s thoughtful.’ I had my little ‘coffee corner’ but didn’t always get round to filling the kettle, so the mug of my preferred stimulant was very welcome. ‘I imagine I’ll only be an hour or so, maybe less. But you shouldn’t encounter any problems.’

      Kelly grinned, pulling out her walkie-talkie from her pocket. ‘Don’t worry – I’m packing my secret weapon. We’ll be fine.’

      Most of the teachers, and some of the support staff, like Kelly, had access to these contraptions so they could call for duty staff to come and help out in an emergency. This might involve something as simple as a child being asked to leave the class due to disruptive behaviour or, in more extreme cases, an extra pair of hands to help break up a physical fight. They were called Computerised Communications Units (CCUs) but I was the resident oddball because I never used mine. I hated new techno gadgets so relied on my new mobile phone – another piece of kit I had yet to fully master.

      I grabbed it now and popped it in my handbag. Unlike the majority of the staff, I always kept the latter with me too, partly because with such a small group situation it was easy enough to keep an eye on, and partly because it was akin to a Mary Poppins handbag – something that had developed since Kieron was little. Him being the way he was, it had often been a lifesaver; if he got dirty or cut himself he’d be more upset that he looked dishevelled than if he hurt himself.

      It was a lifesaver with the kids in school too. I always had tissues, packs of plasters, biscuits, sweets and even make-up, which always proved popular when girls got upset – a bit of lip gloss and a spot of blusher always cheered them up.

      ‘Right,’ I said, picking up the bag. ‘I’m off. And remember, everyone, I can whip up a maths lesson in seconds if need be, so, best behaviour while I’m gone.’

      I walked quickly through the corridors before the bell went that would signal break time, along with the inevitable stampede of children rushing off to the tuck shop and the playground. It went just as I arrived outside Donald’s office’s closed door.

      I opened it to find Donald and the family all assembled, the latter with their backs to me, facing his desk.

      ‘Ah, Casey,’ said Donald, rising. ‘Come in.’ He pointed to the remaining seat, which was positioned to the side of the desk. ‘This is Mrs Watson,’ he said to the assembled trio as I slipped past them and sat down on it. ‘She’s the one I told you about on the phone, and who’ll hopefully be looking after young Imogen here.’

      I smiled and, now that I could see them, took СКАЧАТЬ