I’ve written a short story based on my final year of high school and I think it’s so good that I’ve decided to share it here. It may resonate with some of you.

Read on…

The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

A classroom, somewhere in the East Midlands – June 1979

Oh God, I loathe Maths. And it’s a double lesson until the end of the day. Worst of all there’s a sodding clock over the top of the blackboard. And as usual I shall be watching it as it slowly ticks away eighty minutes of my life in this boiling hot classroom while I try and get to grips with my worst subject.

Look at that Sun. Just look at it! An egg yolk coloured ball of blazing gold in a crystal blue sky and I’m in here listening to Mr Kilpatrick who hates my guts.

He must hate my guts. I get everything wrong and I’ve never seen him crack a smile behind that scraggly ginger beard and National Health glasses. Certainly not at me anyway. And he’s a bloody ogre when he loses his rag and that board rubber comes keen when it flies at you from the other end of the room at fifty miles an hour.

Why can’t this be English or Art or P.E? Something I’m good at to end the week on. But oh no, it has to be old beardy Kilpatrick and bloody fractions.

I mean, are fractions even going to help me that much when I leave school? I suppose they must otherwise they wouldn’t try to be teaching them to us. And what of algebra, square roots and logarithms. Will I ever use them? I can never find out what x or y equals.

Kilpatrick thinks I’m an idiot but he should see me in Geography or History. As for English, I excel in that. Mr Stones actually likes me and gives me praise.

Worst of it is, there’s that lovely old weeping willow right outside the window. Gorgeous thing! I’ve never known one so big. It must have been there since the school was built. How I’d love to climb it. I’ve always loved tree climbing and that looks a beauty of a climb.

What’s he droning on about now? And what’s that he’s drawing on the board. Oh, it’s a pie chart. At least I know that much. I like pies actually. Especially my Granny’s apple pies. They’re the best.

That willow does look so gorgeous. Look there’s just the lightest of breezes out there make the lower part of it sway a little. So beautiful.

“STEVENSON!!!”

“Y… yes sir?”

“Stop staring out of that window boy or I’ll give you something to stare at.”

“Sorry sir.”

“Now pay attention.”

“Yes sir.”

Oh great, now the whole class is giggling at me. Even that horrible Katy Gillen and she’s even worse at Maths than me. And that ginger bastard is letting them. Look, he’s actually smiling himself now. Well, grinning like a Cheshire cat might be a better way of saying it.

Right, got to concentrate and try and work out these sodding fractions. I wish I could understand what he’s saying. May as well be in Japanese or Eskimo for all the good it’s doing me.

Bloody hell, Katy Gillen is still smirking at me. I’ll give a her a glare and see how she likes that.

“Please Mr Kilpatrick?”

Oh God.

“Yes Katy?”

“Alan Stevenson is glaring at me.”

Just great, that’s all I need.

“Stevenson, I told you five minutes ago to concentrate on your work and now you’re gawping at Katy. What is wrong with you today?”

“She was smirking at me sir.”

“Rubbish!”

“It’s true sir.”

Oh oh, he’s going for the board rubber. Oh shit, he’s coming this way. Just stare at your desk Alan, just stare at your desk.

WHACK!

“OW!”

Brilliant, just brilliant, now I’ve got a sore head and hair full of chalk dust. Bastard! And as for that Gillen bitch, I’ll get even with her. Just wait until we have English next and she fails the spelling test, like she always does. It’ll be me doing the smirking then.

They’re all giggling at me again and we’ve only been in this lesson for fifteen minutes. Feels like five-hundred.

I’d love it if we could sit outside. It’s so hot and stuffy in here. Imagine if we were all outside and sitting under the cooling shade of that weeping willow. I might actually be able to take in whatever he’s trying to teach us.

Such a lovely shade of green. Like an emerald. Aaah, it’s rather enchanting really…

“STEVENSON!!! YOU’RE DOING IT AGAIN! What do you find so fascinating outside boy?”

Quick, think fast.

“I was just thinking sir, about what you just said about fractions.”

“Oh really?”

There’s the Cheshire cat again.

“Yes sir.”

“And pray tell, what was I just saying?”

Gulp!

“Erm, you were just talking about fractions sir.”

“Yes, I think we’ve established that.”

Bloody giggling again, I feel like a right berk.

“But what exactly was I saying about fractions?”

I’m sweating. I’m actually sweating with fear.

“Erm, you were talking about pie charts sir.”

“Hmmm. And what was I saying about pie charts?”

“Erm… you were saying how all the little segments look like slices of pie…”

Please God let me be right.

“I think that’s a lucky guess. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time.”

Phew!

“But for the rest of the lesson I’d appreciate it if you could look ahead and not at that tree outside.”

“Yes sir.”

“Perhaps you’d like to swap places with someone on the other side of the room?”

“No thank you, sir. I’ll concentrate from now on. Promise.”

“You’d better.”

Right, come on Alan, focus. You can do this. Don’t let him have the satisfaction of ridiculing you again.

Bloody Gillen is still smirking. No good telling on her, he’d never believe me.

Oh God, fractions do my head in. I get the halves and quarters and even eighths but beyond that I’m knackered. And he’s dividing that pie into all sorts of shapes and I’m now supposed to work out how much is left, plus, I’ve got to show my working out on the page. Sheesh!

So hot in here and he hasn’t even said we can take our blazers off. At least the windows are open, that’s something at least. Mind you, they only open about six inches so it’s barely better than nothing.

Oh shit, my mind is wandering again. Concentrate you fool.

I can feel a bead of sweat running down my side from my armpit. And I’m so thirsty. I could kill for a big glass of water to refresh myself. I even wish it was raining.

Mind you, that willow tree wouldn’t look half as nice in the rain. It would probably look quite sad and a bit bedraggled. But on days like this when the sun is out it looks so lush and green and—

GA-DOING!!!

What the hell?

There’s a compass embedded in my desk top. Point first. Oh shit, Kilpatrick is standing over me and he looks really mad. He’s actually thrown a compass into the wood of my desk, like a spear! Bloody hell it’s still vibrating!!!

“THAT’S YOUR FINAL WARNING!”

“Sorry sir.”

“What on Earth is the matter with you today? I know you’re hopeless but even by your own low standards you’re even worse today.”

“Sorry sir, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“I’m so hot. I’m sweating.”

More giggling from the sheep.

“Oh, so you’re hot are you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Anyone else feeling the heat like Stevenson?”

Thank God they’re all agreeing with me.

“Right, in that case you can all take your blazers off if you wish.”

Thank Heaven for that. Feels like the damn thing is stuck to me. There, it’s off and on the back of my chair. Ooh, that’s feels much better. Bloody hell, there’s chalk dust on the shoulders. My Mum will go flaming mad at that.

Oh, hang on a minute.

“Sir?”

“Yes Stevenson?”

“Sir, you’ve left the compass in my desk sir.”

More giggling.

“I’ve left it there as a reminder for you to pay attention.”

Giggling again.

Git!!!

Right, this is it. I can and will focus on the blackboard. But why does it have to be black? Such a depressing looking thing. Why can’t it be another colour, like blue or purple. Or even green. Yes, green like the willow tree outside.

Out there, with it’s lower branches swaying in the breeze. Swaying to and fro like it’s almost dancing in the sunshine like some kind of ethereal creature or Heavenly body. Like a ballerina. Almost beckoning me towards it. Lush and green and fresh and shade-giving and I really wish that I could—

“RIGHT!!! THAT’S IT. GET OUT STEVENSON AND GO AND STAND IN THE CORRIDOR! I’ll BE REPORTING YOU TO YOUR FORM TUTOR ON MONDAY.”

Report me to whoever you like you baboon faced old twat. It’s got to be better than being in here. And besides, Mr Stones is my form tutor and he likes me.

Listen to that lot in there, squealing with laughter like a pack of hyenas.

Well, I think I’m much better off out here. This corridor is so nice and cool compared to being in that sweat box.

The only downside is, I can’t see the weeping willow from here.

The End – For That Week

The next blog post I do will be my 100th and I hope you’ll have a read of that.