Description
I remember another incident much later on with Mr Griffiths. I sort of invented skiving off in about the third year but right back in the first year I stopped going to Geography. I hadn’t done a project as it was homework so as the teacher was very scary I hid in the toilets then I didn’t like to go back the following lesson and the more I stayed away the more the consequences piled up so the more I stayed away. I stayed away until the Fifth Form and then tragedy happened, Mrs Dark the teacher I was staying away from was tasked to write a report on me. She professed to having no idea who I was and I received the long awaited summons to Mr Griffith’s study.
He was standing there reading the report with a stunned expression on his face.
‘Walker,’ he said and now I knew I was in real trouble if he was calling me Walker.
‘Good Morning sir, and isn’t it a lovely one?’ I tried. He gave me a look.
‘You have been cutting Mrs Dark’s Geography lessons since the first year, correct?’
‘Spot on, sir,’ said I with nothing to lose.
‘I see. Well, as far as I can work out that means you have cut somewhere in the region of 348 lessons, yes?’
‘I can’t really help you there sir, I’m not very good at maths.’ I thought it better not to tell him I had recently been cutting Maths lessons as well.
‘Well, Nicknack…Walker,’ he said clutching at his forehead, ‘this leaves me with a bit of a problem. You see if a pupil cuts one lesson, they are made to copy up the whole lesson during detention.’
‘Seems fair enough to me, sir.’
‘Nicknack, shut up!’ he shouted losing it. He took a deep breath to bring himself back under control and after a minute continued in a more level tone, ‘For two lessons they are given the cane. For three they are put on home report.’ He lost it and started to dance around at this point, ‘I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do about 348!!!’
I couldn’t think of anything to say that would improve the situation at this point. Now he seemed to have some sort of stroke and I watched him anxiously as he leaned over his desk fighting for breath, after all he wasn’t getting any younger. Gradually his bright red colour faded and he raised a trembling hand and pointed it at the door:
‘Go away you horrible boy!’
Like I said we all liked Mr Griffiths!
