Free Diary of an Assistant Mistress by Teri Power Page B

Snowing." Possibly the most unnecessary piece of 'news' ever, I could hardly see the headline for the swirling snow flurries.
    When it starts snowing at school, it does not matter what year I am teaching, they will cluster around the windows and start asking if the school is going to be closed. One legendary winter the school actually was closed for one day and the folk-memory of the pupils has never forgotten it.
    This didn't even settle.
    Sunday 24th April
    I don't see why anyone has the heart to saw down silver birch trees, as I saw two young men doing today. They are ideal phallic symbols, so erect, so pale, so commonplace. Talking of which, James ... but do I have to labour the obvious?
    But then again, why not. We were seated on the sofa watching yet another rather poorly made video with a Swedish accent (this did not matter as the dialogue was minimal). I waited until James' erection was placing his Levis under strain. I very carefully unzipped his fly, very slowly covered my hand with vaseline and took hold of his warm penis. It was then that he discovered that I had previously put Algipan on my palm. He didn't complain, though he moaned a little.
    Is there a good way of getting semen stains off velour upholstery?
    Monday 25th April
    A new set of incomprehensible instructions on assessing oral work came cascading out of the old pigeon hole this morning, along with a reminder that eighth year reports are due in on Friday. Spent the evening not doing the eighth year reports. I had brought home all the paperwork but forgotten the forms. We spent the evening in the pub so it was not completely wasted. James then suggested that he assess my oral work. I agreed. I must have been drunk.
    Tuesday 26th April
    Rosencrantz is dead, Guildenstern is dead, and you know the rest by now. I can remember a time when I didn't get hangovers. Youth is wasted on the teetotal.
    Wednesday 27th April
    Made a serious start on the eighth year reports. After half an hour, I found that the first two I had written were identical, which suggests that I am paying too much attention to National Cur criteria and not enough to the children. I decided to write a real report on their work and ignore the Key Stage. This way I got most of them done.
    Thursday 28th April
    Rang the computer repair experts and got the Man Who Knows Nothing About Computers. He has obviously had a sex-change operation as he is now the Girl Who Knows Nothing About Computers. However GWKNAC was as informative as ever and I now know less than I did.
    Friday 29th April
    Handed in the eighth year reports this morning. Received them back this afternoon. They are not in line with the guidelines, so I must put them in line with the guidelines BY YESTERDAY.
    Alternatives include:
    a) Spending the weekend writing the reports again, in line with the Fat Controller's guidelines.
    b) Keeping the reports until the last moment and then resubmitting them as they are.
    c) both (a) and (b) in case (a) backfires or I lose my nerve.
    James was back with the lurid videos again tonight. I told him what I thought of the Fat Controller and his guidelines at some length and he found this sufficiently detumescent for at least five minutes. In the end he was so sympathetic and understanding I agreed to watch it with him.
    Sexy Samantha was in the middle of trying to swallow a cucumber in a novel fashion when James noticed that I had started writing reports and he gave it up as a bad job.
    Saturday 30th April
    James did the shopping, I did the reports. They now tell you nothing about the pupils but lots about the National Cur and that is the main thing.
    We went to a party at George and Edie's. And they said it wouldn't last! George has still got a roving eye but less of a roving hand thank goodness.
    I noticed what I can only describe as an atmosphere between Oz and Clair. I hope Oz isn't taking over the role of departmental lecher - partly because he really is very physically clumsy.
     
     

May
    Sunday