The smell of rain in a dry land

She sat at the back of the classroom on a chair made for little people. Her legs were crossed and her right leg was swinging as she waited for the kids to arrive for their lesson. Why did all classrooms have that smell of wood, lead and apples? This room was made worse by the pet rodent and the smell emanating from the urine-soaked sawdust that hadn't been changed.

"Why do people keep rodents? Have they not heard of the Black Plague?" she thought, whilst uncrossing her legs and leant into her bag. Drawing out her clipboard she pushed her glasses back up her nose. Leaning back she crossed her legs again and stared at the clock on the wall until the hands made a 'v'. Five to one on a Friday afternoon. This was her final invigilation for the day. She sometimes wondered why she did this job because it surely had to be one of the worst jobs. Sitting at the back of the classroom and giving some poor fool a mark in a one off assessment. You could always do follow-up work and see how the other lessons went, how much the children learnt and look at the results at the end of the year and some invigilators interviewed some of the kids. All of this is if you were diligent. Which she wasn't. It was her job to push paper around and if they wanted to pay her to do this then she would oblige them.

The children were sauntering in now. The lesson was due to start in a few minutes. She had devised methods to pass the time in classrooms, such as staring intently at the teacher for a long time until they were visibly unsettled by her gaze. Then she would put her head down and start writing, again for a lengthy period. What she wrote didn't matter, it was usually crosswords, but it never failed to alarm the teacher.

The kids were being told to sit down now by the teacher. He was nervous but she had picked that up when she first arrived. The kids seemed to like him but arriving late was a sign they didn't take him seriously. If they didn't take him seriously it was probably because he didn't feel confident in his position of authority and that was either bad training or a late start as a teacher. She flickered through the pages to the last A4 sheet, which provided some facts about him and doing a quick calculation from his birth year realised he was a lot older than the average teacher she assessed. Further down it mentioned that he had been trained as an engineer and had practised for seven years. Been rather successful at that too. The kids were now seated and the lesson was about to begin and they seemed excited about it. This would be interesting. How would he make an English lesson interesting on a Friday afternoon?

"Afternoon class", he began.
"Afternoon Mr Sutton", they chanted back in unison.
How quaint, she thought.

"Today we are looking at this book-apparently the greatest of it's time but I couldn't keep awake during it. I tell you it was more like wading through mud than having a peaceful read where one feels the work has been done for you. I think this should have been more closely edited. But nonetheless we are going to wade together. So get your welly boots and get ready to get muddy", and he proceeded to read from Chapter 1.

Not the usual, recommended style but the kids were engaged. She looked at him. He was tall, very tall and lean, very lean. So lean in fact that she felt it made his head look too large for his body. But other than that he had great teeth. She always noticed teeth on people and his looked clean and straight. He also had dark hair, which was a little bit nervous like it's owner. Too afraid to be completely wild but also clueless about what it should be doing and therefore just drifted around his face. He also had a grey shadow drifting around his face, where he had failed to shave. Another surprise for her, as most people tried to look their best and he clearly hadn't tried. His shirt was yellow, from old age rather than dye and his trousers needed pressing. She couldn't see his feet from her position but could only imagine the shabby brown suede with black stitches and laces that had broken in half due to overuse.

She leant back and began to click her pen. Another trick to unnerve the teachers. He had been distracted from the book and was now talking excitedly about infinitives.

"An example of a split infinitive is from the Star Trek slogan: 'To boldly go where no man has gone before' and it should be 'To go boldly where no man has gone before.'"

A child stuck a hand up.

"Yes, Arthur?"
"May I go to the toilet, please sir?"
"Yes, if you can split the infinitive in that sentence", he replied.

She leaned forward in her chair. Unusual and hopefully entertaining.

The child looked very perplexed and a couple of classmates leant over to offer some advice.

"Use the phrase 'I would like to go to the bathroom' and identify and then split the infinitive in that sentence", he offered helpfully.

Silence filled the classroom. Even the helpful whispers had stopped. The children were looking helplessly at the kid, who had crossed his legs and then even more helplessly at their teacher who was oblivious to the situation.

"Wait, that's not a good example", he exclaimed, "Can anyone suggest a better example?"

More silence. And she noticed the kid who needed the toilet, squirming in his chair. He stuck his hand in the air.

"Yes?"
"I really need to wee, sir."
"An excellent example. Now can you split the infinitive in that sentence?"
"Sir, please I really really need to wee, sir!"
"Not quite. Think about what I had said about the infinitive and then apply that to the sentence 'I really need to wee, sir'", asked Mr-, he turned his back on the class to write on the sentence on the white board.

As he did this the child stood up and ran out of the classroom. He left a wet trail behind him and the other kids picked this up pretty quickly. Mr - stood up in front the class and tried to quieten them down but they were having none of it. This was the funniest thing to happen to them the whole day and it was the last lesson of the day on a Friday. Eventually Mr - gave up and the pandemonium continued until the bell went.

"Well that's the end of the lesson. Have a great weekend and see you on Monday. If anyone sees Jonnie please lend him some spare shorts or trousers", he added as the noise of chairs scrapping back, kids packing up and discussing their weekend plans and beginning to stream out of the classroom, not concerned whether they had been given permission or not. Silence crept in as the noise followed the children on their way home. It lingered in the air for a while, as he scratched his head and pretended to look for something on the desk.

"That has never happened before, Ms Marshfield. Never!"

She stared at him, as he squirmed in his un-pressed trousers and surprisingly nicely polished black leather shoes with black laces neatly done up, before she began to pack up her things. The silence was ringing loudly around the room. Every noise amplified by it. The fan was beating a rhythmic tune as it made it's orbit.

"I hope that wasn't too bad for a Friday afternoon", he offered as way of closing the awkward silence.

She offered nothing back and the silence then became like another presence in the room. She finished packing up her papers and stood to leave. He tried again.

"Generally that kind of thing never happens. It really was because we were all so nervous about having an inviligator in the classroom."

"Generally, Mr Sutton?", she questioned, "I would suppose that those kind of things happen all the time in your classroom. I would propose that you need an invigilator in every classroom you teach in the future, if it is considered a good idea for you to be teaching a class at all. That was honestly the worst lesson I have ever been in. I have been in dental procedures without anaesthesia that have been less painful than your lesson! It was a disgusting lack of structure and insensitivity that you exhibited in your class", she stated this coolly. No point in getting emotional because she wasn't that invested in the job but she did have some idea of what a lesson should have looked like.

She left the room, her heels clicking down the empty passage. It was a nice day and she decided to go for a swim instead of going back to the office. Emotional trauma is what she would claim for her laziness.