At the terminus

A few days ago.

Term finally ended last Tuesday, but not until we were made to remain at school all day in one final vindictive gesture which appears to have come from the school. I had class first two periods and nothing to do after that.

It wasn’t without incident. Lincoln Green, having had a few to many, had had an accident the night before, and although he turned up at school, he promptly turned round and went home. A hospital check pronounced him fit to travel, but he did have a nasty bump on the side of his head.

There were also problems with contract abuse as the school tried to misinterpret the word “term” to deny departing teachers the rest of their housing allowance. The contract will change next year as a money-saving exercise which, in truth, makes sense, since most departing teachers leave as soon as possible and yet would still be getting money for nothing.

Unlike previous years, we weren’t given next year’s timetable, although I believe Dmitry has seen it. Is there a sensible reason for not sharing, or is this just another of Vlad’s power trips? [Much later. In fact, our timetable is held hostage by the main school’s PE lessons around which we have to base everything. It’s the reason why our timetable then changes. This year we reached v. 6 before it finally stabilised.]

And now it’s the holidays again in an apparent repeat screening of last summer – grey, dull, wet, humid –, and a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to drift through another one.