Chalk Dust & Broomsticks, Chapter 2

The chairperson of the governors brings fear to the staff at Primrose Primary School.

Chalk Dust & Broomsticks


Chapter 2 - An unsettling announcement


Mrs. Catchpole tapped the side of her wine glass with a teaspoon - a sound that, even over the low murmur of the staff room, commanded immediate attention. The Friday evening post-staff meeting drink had, as usual, morphed into a slightly less formal, but no less politically charged, weekly debrief.


"Now, before you all descend completely into the weekend's embrace," she announced, her smile fixed but failing to reach her eyes, "I have a small item of news, rather administrative, but one I wanted to share with you sooner rather than later."


A new silence descended, heavier than the usual one, the clink of ice and glass suddenly became loud. Mrs. Catchpole adjusted the lapels of her sensible tweed jacket.


"We will shortly be having a visitor from the Education Office. A gentleman named Mr. Blunt - a name I appreciate sounds rather Dickensian, but one we must nonetheless get used to." A scattering of nervous, obligatory laughter met her joke. "He's coming to meet with us to, shall we say, 'discuss future strategy' for the school. This is all standard procedure, particularly now with the government's push on ..." she paused, searching for the acceptable buzzword, " ...'raising standards and accountability."


Mr. Davies, the Head of English on the Junior side; a man who viewed any government intervention with suspicion, bordering on open hostility, cleared his throat loudly. "And when, precisely, is this ... discussion ... going to take place, lady Governor?"


"Next week, Mr. Davies. "He'll be joining us for the afternoon, mostly just observing, asking a few simple questions. He specifically wants to talk about I.T. provision - how we are going to cope with the introduction of modern technology in the school; how we're going to access the Internet and what resources we're utilizing. You all know the drill." She looked directly at Mrs. Harrison from Science, also on the Junior side, who was already running a worried hand through her perfectly coiffured hair.


"Now listen to me, everyone", Mrs. Catchpole continued, her voice taking on a sharper, more urgent edge. "I have heard the whispers and I want to dispel them entirely. This is not an inspection. This is a fact-finding visit. Mr. Blunt is simply gathering information for his own office. I urge you all to carry on exactly as you have been. Do not change anything. Do not stress yourselves. We are an excellent school, and we have absolutely nothing to worry about."


She took a decisive sip of her sherry, but the room remained tense. A visit from the Education Office in the late 1990's, in the midst of new legislation and constant talk of league tables, was rarely a good sign. It felt less like a fact-finding mission and more like a warning shot. They all knew the reality: Mr. Blunt was coming to poke around and the last thing anyone wanted was to be the reason for the school to receive an unwelcome memo.


The unsettling announcement by Mrs. Catchpole about Mr. Blunt's visit had, as it turned out, been merely the opening act. Those tense Friday evening drinks had taken place in Autumn 1997, at the very start of the academic year and as the year got underway, Mrs. Ogglesby and the Junior Headteacher, Mr. Padstow, told their staff that the long-awaited visit from Mr. Blunt would be the first week in December.


Mrs. Catchpole looked across the room and smiled at everyone. "I would like to welcome Mr. Nick Blunt to our school. Some of you will already have met Nick, but for those of you who haven't, I would like you to know that, as head of the governing bodies of all schools in this area, Mr. Blunt has a lot of responsibility. He is here today to explain to you all what will be happening in the next few months regarding the merging of the two schools after the retirement of our dear headteacher, Mrs. Ogglesby.


"Of course," she said, "No-one will lose their job. This is the way forward for this school and the juniors next door, we need to amalgamate now that Mrs. Ogglesby is intending to retire next Summer."


Mrs. Ogglesby looked uncomfortable. "Well," she said, "my husband really isn't at all well; his diabetes needs management and I feel I need to give him the time he deserves when all said and done". She shifted on her seat and looked around at the assembled staff. "I'm sorry, I would have liked to carry on a bit longer but it just can't be".


Shirley nudged her friend, the General Assistant, Dora Wales. "I bet some of us do lose our jobs. It's inevitable. "She looked worried. She studied the faces of all the assembled staff and watched them applying mental arithmetic to the case in hand. With the two schools joining together would there be a need for two kitchens, two secretaries, two general assistants etc. etc. The room seemed to get hotter in those five minutes as we all took in this momentous news.


Mr. Blunt stood up to give his talk, explaining that there would be building work to endure as the two buildings were joined together with a new administration block in the middle. When he was done with all of that he stopped talking. The room went quiet. The staff all looked at each other... then he said "that is not all I am here to say today. It is inevitable that changes will occur and be far reaching, but additionally I need to tell you that all of this, except Mrs. Ogglesby's retirement will depend on the outcome of an Ofsted Inspection that will take place after Christmas".


That did it! All school staff dread an Ofsted Inspection. It is a serious matter and if a school fails inspection, it may be closed down all together.


Shirley's brain went into overdrive. 'Maybe they want it to fail?' she thought. 'Maybe that is their idea of dealing with the situation - saving a headteacher's salary, closing The Dollhouse side all together and merging with the Juniors somehow in one building. Lord knows their numbers aren't high. Maybe despite all the promises to the contrary, we could all lose our jobs over here."
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                   Ofsted          = Office for standards in education