Imagine if we had a gimongous display board in the school entrance hall, filled with staff photographs that look like those funtastic illustrations by Quentin Blake? The next time those pen-pushy Ofsted-y people came around, it would frightle the living day-pants off them. I mean, what pesky judger-mudger hiding behind a nit-picky clipboard would dare to scrutinise such a fierce collection of dredfarkling teachers?
Rewind a week: it is Roald Dahl Day and our school is bubbling with excitement. And it’s not just the tiny Oompa Loompas and the miniscule Matildas who are enthusiastic - it’s their teachers, too. The competition to be best-dressed staff character has grown unhealthily intense since it was initiated a year ago by our headteacher (Ms Boudica), whose annual appearance as the Grand High Witch is, in my opinion, a tad too scary.
This time around, Mrs Rottweiler is the one to beat. Gasps accompany her march down the corridor and into the staffroom where she stands flexing cane and calf muscles in rhythmical unison. Snide comments suggesting her appearance as Miss Trunchbull hardly required an imaginative leap, are ignored. She is too busy admiring her reflection in the window and dreaming of a time when primary school life might mirror art.
As the staffroom fills and the excitement intensifies, nobody notices the man in the corner who is not wearing fancy dress. Maybe we are too distracted by Mr and Mrs Twit arguing over whose turn it is on the photocopier? Or Mr Jenkins wearing a top hat and a smug expression because he thinks he looks like Johnny Depp? Or Mrs Wormwood shouting at the top of her voice that bloody Jenkins has come as Willy Wanker? Our attention is only drawn to the man when Miss Honey enters.
Maybe it’s true what they say about teachers resembling Roald Dahl characters. Aunts Spiker and Sponge are too busy eating chocolate Hobnobs to give the man a second glance, the BFG is preoccupied with not getting in anybody’s way and Veruca Salt only has time to stamp her feet and complain about parents. Miss Honey is the only one to show him any interest. It is she who asks if he would like a cup of tea. And is anyone looking after him? And does he know it’s Roald Dahl Day? And is he a supply teacher?
“Actually I’ve come to take photographs of you,” says the man. At this point, everyone stops what they are doing to listen. There are few times when a fuss of primary teachers (or whatever the collective noun for them is) grows silent. “Staff photographs for your school display board,” he adds. “Mind you, I’ve not taken any like this before.”
Fantastic Mr Fox’s eyes begin to shine with amusement. In his head, he imagines our photographs in the school entrance hall under a label that reads: Meet our Staff. The mischievous twinkle in his eye spreads to Violet Beauregarde, Mrs Twit and a Muggle-Wump before coming to a halt when the Grand High Witch walks in. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mix up,” she snaps. “Staff photographs will have to be rearranged.”
Steve Eddison is a teacher at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield
