C : The Germans

Jim called an "emergency meeting". Jim is the Scottish Head of
German in a North Manchester School. We (Colin, Debi and I) are his
charges. We all teach German.

We were curious, but not particularly anxious. Then Jim dropped the
bombshell: "They're moving us to the mobile sheds on the playground
next year."

A cocktail of disbelief, confusion and outrage.

My first reaction was, "This is a prank." I'd sent a fake memo out to a
few teacher-friends last year informing them that they would be moving
to the most inconvenient classrooms I could muster. End-of-summer-term
high jinks. They'd already bungled a couple of revenge attempts. I was
convinced this was another. "Wow, they've managed to get Jim in on it,"
I mused.

But it didn't take long for it dawn on me that this was no joke. I read
the signs. Kharma had got the better of me.

The conversation went like this: "Best results in school and this is
the thanks we get So who have we upset anyway disgraceful disgraceful I
feel so demotivated I've a good mind to ring in sick til they back down
blah blah blah blah."

And our thoughts turned to facilities: "Are there carpets we need
carpets for the acoustics What about store rooms I need a phone link
I'm a head of year blah blah blah."

The meeting was abandoned. Purposefully and in single-file, lead by
Jim, we marched towards our proposed workspaces on a fact-finding
mission.

("Maybe they're not THAT bad. Let's reserve judgement 'til we have a
proper look.")

We didn't care that there would be classes being taught in them. We
were going to steam in, curtly acknowledge the teacher, and have a good
nose around.

In the meantime, a year 11 - one of a gaggle of glazed expressions - is
listening to a mini-lecture on the causes of World War II. His
attention wanders out of the window next to his desk. His eyes bulge
and his eyebrows raise. He sees Mr Mcleod (Jim, to you and me) crossing
the yard with the rest of the German department in tow,
near-goosestepping in the direction of the mobile classroom he is sat
in.

The boy remarks, "Bloody hell sir, the Germans are coming!"