the empty school
The halls will echo with the laughs
Of teachers, not of kids.
“They’ve closed us down, no class!”
She calls, balancing the bacon roll
And paper coffee cup, pushing through the door.
The lights are off, it’s time
To turn around, smiling though I don’t
Want other staff to see. A free day off,
No sulky teens to wrestle over books,
No whispered slurs and withering dirty looks.
So Storm Eunice has arrived and I have to say, it’s not all that bad here. We have had two power cuts that lasted a couple of seconds, and my garden furniture has moved across the garden. However, the schools have closed so I am home.
This hasn’t been the case all day, though. This morning I checked my emails before I left and the school was still planning on opening. It takes me thirty minutes to get there and in that time, the decision was taken to close down.
This was infuriating, but, there is something magical about the school when children aren’t there. Teachers change and become children themselves and there always seems to be more laughter and games. It almost seems a shame that we ever have to have children in!
And then there’s the joy of an unexpected day off. Because I live a bit further afield than most of the others, I made a speedy exit on the grounds that I didn’t want the road to be blocked.
Don’t tell my boss, but I just went straight home and did some crochet and watched Netflix.