Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (children's books read aloud .txt) 📕

28

28th January 1977

Buzz Lightyear

I arrived at school early on Friday morning. My old Cortina was already parked up, so Martin also appeared to have made an early start and hadn’t been worn out by his exertions the night before. Now I had the Acting Head role I’d taken over running most morning assemblies; a responsibility which Roy was happy to relinquish. I mixed the process up, moving it away from a Christian focused assembly, thus saving the pain of hearing the students’ poor rendition of a hymn. This also avoided having to wince through listening to old Bummer’s dreadful performance on the school piano. His recitals often sounded like a sketch from a Les Dawson show, as he randomly banged out the wrong note, although by mistake, and there was nothing remotely amusing about his performance.

I’d encouraged the Sixth Form students to participate. This supported their development in their ability to perform public speaking. Also, I persuaded the various after-school clubs to complete presentations. I’d borrowed my ideas from Mr Elkinson, my Headmaster from ten years in the future, now realising he was quite progressive. Although I could still remember the Deputy Head, Jones, AKA Hermann Göring, occasionally running assembly, which was how I imagined a roll call would have been in a Nazi death camp. I recall praying he wouldn’t make eye contact which could lead to being singled out to perform some terrifying act such as reading aloud from the Bible – an act I remember, oh so well, that I was particularly disastrous at.

The students clearly preferred my assemblies to Roy’s dreary affairs. I would always round off with a joke, and I’d developed a cult following from the senior year who all held up apples of different varieties as a mark of homage to my new invigorating assemblies.

These morning events were fast becoming one of my favourite parts of the day. I recalled how my disengaged team reacted to me at Waddington Steel when I held sales meetings with them, most of whom stared out of the window or scrolled through their phones. Comparing those painful affairs to these informative and engaging assemblies proved to me I’d made a significant change for the better. It provided me with a real sense of value, knowing my students enjoyed what I offered.

I was straight in to class this morning with a senior year physics lesson. This was my least favourite subject, but I was competent enough to deliver the required syllabus. The class worked through an exercise on the Electromagnetic Spectrum, specifically the properties of electromagnetic waves and their ability to penetrate anything. Based on what I’d witnessed last night, I expected Martin would be exceptionally competent at this subject.

Whilst I prowled around the room, peering over students’ shoulders to assess their progress or be ready to offer support, I had a shock. I peeked over Sarah Moore’s shoulder, fully expecting to see she’d grasped the subject with ease as she was one of my most capable students. However, I didn’t see what I expected.

On the cover of her textbook, which was covered in a baby blue wallpaper – something that most students seemed to do – she had drawn a perfect heart shape, with an arrow threw the middle. Her name was penned underneath the arrow, and Martin’s name above. The heart had been neatly coloured in red, apart from the top corner, where she’d drawn Martin’s face. Sarah was an A-grade student in all subjects, including PE, and she’d represented the school at cross-country running last year. But by far her best subject, where she truly excelled, was Art. Her drawing of the ‘handyman’ on her book was the closest likeness to Martin I’d ever seen, almost a perfect portrait. It appeared Sarah Moore had a crush on her thirty-one-year-old son.

Oh, bollocks.

Sarah noticed I’d been hovering behind her longer than usual. She nudged another textbook over the picture, thus covering up the heart drawing. Clare Keelan, who sat to Sarah’s left, started to giggle, and I noticed that one of her textbooks had a similar drawing. Clare’s artwork wasn’t to the same standard as Sarah’s, although it was clear to see it was a drawing of Martin with her name in the heart. Oh, bollocks again. I’d introduced a male pin-up to the school in the form of Martin Bretton.

There were another five months before Clive would return to school. I needed his recovery to be swifter as the longer Martin was here, the increased probability of a difficult situation would arise with his mother. Somehow, I needed to make Martin invisible. I thought perhaps I could change his working hours, so he could perform his duties in the evenings and weekends. The more time he wasn’t parading himself in front of some young impressionable young ladies, the better.

This new revelation and concerning turn of events required immediate action. I felt an urgent need to order an emergency committee meeting of all four members of the time-travellers-believer-club to discuss a strategy for the next few months.

During lunchtime, sunk into my favourite armchair in the staff room, the situation escalated whilst I enjoyed a coffee and cigarette. Jayne was recalling a humorous event from an early morning chemistry lesson that involved a Bunsen burner, an orange rubber hose, and the third-year student, Matthew Porter’s backside – enough said. I was musing myself listening to her funny tale whilst gazing out of the staff room window. The outlook conveniently provided a clear view of the central courtyard where students would be milling about, playing games or just sitting eating their pack lunches on the wooden benches.

On warmer days, the courtyard would usually be packed with students and could put to the test the marshalling skills from those unfortunate teachers who had the dubious task of monitoring lunchtime events. Most students stayed in the school dining rooms at this time of year, but there were always a few brave souls who ventured out. Sadly, you