My Secret Lover

love,
you’re nine feet tall!’
     
    I am a shivering sweaty person whose
hand is so clammy on the doorknob she can’t actually twist it without getting a
tissue out of her handbag except she doesn’t have any tissues so she has to use
her sleeve.
     
    *
     
    I am a silent person whose heart has
suddenly jumped from her chest into the cavity in her head where her brain used
to be before it dissolved.
     
    I am a panicky person whose eyes swim
around the interview panel, pulling to focus on a navy-blue double-breasted
pinstripe suit which says, ‘We’ve already met,’ as the headteacher introduces
him as chairman of the governors.
     
    The good news is that I didn’t tell
anyone about going for the job.
     
    * * *
     
    ‘Never mind,’ says New Andy.
    ‘About what?’
    He looks me up and down.
    ‘You’ve been for an interview because
of the suit. You didn’t get it because you would have taken the rest of the day
off.’
    ‘My dear Watson, you’re in the wrong
profession,’ I snap at him. ‘So am I, apparently.’
    ‘I was hoping you’d get it because
I’m in for you.’
    ‘It was stupid of me to put theatre
on my CV when the only production I’ve seen in the last year was the Year One Ugly
Duckling assembly.’
    ‘It had some memorable performances,’
says New Andy. ‘Anyway, everyone puts theatre on their CV.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘Yes, but I’m an actor.’
    Always seems to lose his sense of
humour when he mentions it.
    ‘Did Richard get it?’
    ‘Yes. They just called him.’
    ‘I knew he would,’ I smile brightly.
‘Excuse me.’
    I cry a lot in the ladies’ loo,
because I didn’t get the job and because my only real friend is a traitor who
is leaving me to face the witches on my own.
    New Andy is waiting for me outside.
    He hands me a tissue.
    ‘I didn’t want the job anyway,’ I
say. ‘Why would I want to do all that admin? What I really like is the kids.’
    ‘You are such a great teacher, you
know,’ he says. ‘Your class has been clamouring for you all morning.’
    ‘Have they really?’
    I do a loud and unfeminine sniff.
    ‘Of course they have,’ says New Andy,
giving me a little squeeze round the waist. Doesn’t hurt. Like David Beckham’s
foot, my ribs are making encouraging progress, and that’s without all the
tabloid interest.
     
    ‘Where’s the nice man gone?’ says
Nikita.
    ‘Men are better at teaching than
women, aren’t they?’ says Robbie.
    ‘It has nothing to do with whether
you’re a man or a woman,’ I tell him.
    ‘Why are you wearing a man’s clothes
then?’ asks Geri.
    ‘Some of our sunflowers started to
grow when the man was teaching us,’ says Dean.
    Sure enough, there are lots of little
shoots peeping through the soil.
    Which is an encouraging sign.

36
     
    May
     
    ‘How are you getting on, teachers?’
sneers Anne Robinson.
    Everyone in the studio laughs.
    Teachers are doing poorly.
    ‘That’s just typical of the
anti-intellectual attitude of this country, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘They’re supposed
to be testing the nation’s intelligence, and all the presenter wants to do is
make fun of teachers.’
    ‘Sssh,’ says Andy.
    He’s doing the National IQ test out
loud and checking his answers on the computer at the same time.
     
    I am hopeless at sequences. I’d be
all right given enough time, but I’ve just about worked out what they’re asking
when there’s an ear-piercing electronic bleep and that puts me right off.
    ‘Think I got all of those,’ says
Andy.
     
    I am hopeless at fitting a shape into
a lot of mixed-up shapes.
    ‘Think I got all those,’ says Andy.
    ‘Maybe next time you’ll be able to
pack the boot of the car when we go away?’
    A bit mean, I know, but last time he
made me take my stuff in plastic bags because he couldn’t find a way of getting
my suitcase in.
     
    I think this test has been set by a
man because there’s nothing intuitive in it.
     
    I’m slightly better on the verbal
stuff.
    As achromatic is to neutral, salutary
is to wholesome. Easy. And actually a lot more useful than those stupid shapes.
    As miser is to save, refuge is to
shelter.
    Andy gets it right.
    I thinks it’s as friend is to
support.
    Actually, I don’t see why I’m wrong.
But there’s no debate allowed, even though an ability to discuss something
rationally is part of intelligence, in my humble opinion.
    I’m only a teacher after all.
    And a teacher’s role in this
particular show is to be vilified by a