The fog clears and here we are.

I’m standing on a cliff edge (not a metaphor for Wednesday afternoon Year Nine) and staring at the Irish Sea. It’s a beautiful day and yet I am nauseous and sweaty because I am operating at an unusual level of stress for me. I have just witnessed 14 children in my care jump from the cliff and into the ocean below. I do not remember being prepared for this on my Postgraduate Certificate in Education. My mind is in a deep state of chaos. A woman called Tamzin is staring back at me.

We are on an Activity Adventure Holiday in North Wales with the school concert band. Outdoor activities in the morning until mid-afternoon, then music rehearsals until tea time (or supper, if you live in the south). I am on the trip by mistake. I have shown myself to be adept at organising quizzes, DJing (in an embarrassing teacher kind of way) and generally facilitating evening activities at the hostel, like some over-qualified red-coat. Or is it blue-coat?

A (probably) willing deputy

The reason I am standing on this cliff edge is because Ms Smart, one of the very enthusiastic music teachers at my school (focus instrument: the tuba), has smashed her elbow up, ruling her out of any outdoor activities for the duration of the trip. Also out for Ms Smart are The Best of Berlioz, Prog Journeys of the Seventies and The Hits of Andrew Lloyd Webber, but that’s another story. Smart is OUT, and I am IN...whether I like it or not.

I’m a bit like a mogwai. I don’t like getting wet. During the Hill Street Blues-style start to the day following Ms Smart’s mishap, I am offered coasteering as the activity on which to accompany the children. I’ll basically be there to hold bags and find out where the toilet is. Coasteering. Never heard of it. Thinking it sounds like shell-collecting, I nod enthusiastically and pack a notebook in case I am inspired to poetry.

Over the next four hours I discover coasteering is not beachcombing. It’s a combination of caving, canoeing, swimming, climbing and falling. It’s been like the slowest, most terrifying rollercoaster in the world. Now, some people are really good at this sort of stuff because they have zero fear. I am not one of those. Kids also have no fear and at this climactic point in the journey they have all leapt like lemmings into the ocean below.

They fell some distance. I could tell from their descending screams. I say all of them, but that’s not strictly true. I turn and Little Ben is standing beside me. Little Ben, the second flute. He has terror in his eyes and I am buzzing.

Both of us look ahead to the cliff edge from where our companions had jumped. Standing there staring back, as fit as a fiddle, is Tamzin, who has been our tour guide and motivator up to this point.

I haven’t warmed to Tamzin. She’s relentlessly enthusiastic with a voice that could make the worst of dictators beg for mercy. She’s also Australian.

‘You’ll be wonderful and feel amazing’

‘Come on Ben! You can do it! Yer mates are waiting!’ she beams.

‘Shut up, Tamzin’

‘I’m not sure I can, Sir,’ whispers Ben. Get in, lad.

‘Not a problem, Ben - we’ll find a path’, I reply in my best supportive teacher voice. I am genuinely relieved. I really don’t want to jump into the sea.

‘Oh, come on Ben! You’ll be wonderful and you’ll feel amazing...!’

(Shut up, Tamzin)

‘You’ll be a hero! Imagine that Ben! A genuine, 100 per cent hero!’

(Shut up, Tamzin)

‘He’s really fine, thanks, Tamzin,’ I venture. ‘We’ll meet you down there.’

‘What a shame!’ she says, screwing up a what-a-shame face.

(Shut up, Tamzin)

I feel Ben stiffen beside me.

‘No, Ben!’

He looks at me and declares:

‘Balls to it, Sir. I’m going!!’

‘No Ben...’ I beg.

And with that he legs it off the side of Wales. I vaguely hear the sound of cheers from below as Tamzin looks at me. With her outstretched hand, she signals the direction I need to run in.

The band starts playing and the fog descends.

The children later marvelled at the velocity and impact of my fall.

Hywel Roberts is a travelling teacher and curriculum imaginer. He tweets as @hywel_roberts. Read his back catalogue

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