Chapter Six
Sam
March
Sam glanced up from his desk during his prep time to see two girls hovering outside his door.
It was a relief to see them – the inspectors had arrived, and every knock or movement at the door made him think someone had come to see his class.
And while he wasn’t too nervous, there was always added pressure when someone was watching – even if all they’d see right now was him marking work.
‘Mr Addison?’ One of them gave the faintest knock on the frame.
‘Yes?’
‘Could you… come to Mr Emery’s class straight away? He needs… you.’ She swallowed.
‘Sure.’ Sam closed his laptop. Isaac wasn’t one to call for help unless something serious was going on.
Sam followed the girls to the room two doors down. Someone inside was shouting. One of the girls looked back at him with wide eyes.
‘In you go, and I’ll speak to Mr Emery.’
Isaac was just inside the door, standing in front of an irate-looking Max Lyndell.
His longish, straggly hair almost covered his very dark eyes on one side of his face.
Sam let out a sigh. Max was the bane of everyone’s life right now.
And the paranoia that the inspectors would walk into a lesson in the middle of one of his outbursts was at its peak.
Max was almost as tall as Isaac, who was almost twice his age, but where Isaac had a youthful look, Max was the opposite – he looked older than he was – and had Sam not known how old they were, he might have thought them the same age.
‘Good morning, Mr Emery,’ Sam said, and Isaac turned around. His well-defined cheekbones were set in a sharp grimace.
‘Morning.’ He glanced back at Max and then turned to Sam and muttered. ‘He’s out of control. He’s throwing stuff and swearing. The other kids are scared. Nothing I say is helping. He just won’t stop.’
‘I can fucking hear you,’ Max said.
‘Let’s take this outside.’ Sam put his arm out to indicate the door.
‘Why should I? You can’t make me.’
‘True. But the alternative is that the rest of the class move into my room, and I stay in here with you. Either way, we’re going to have a chat. You’ve got ten seconds to decide.’
Max gave him a death stare and clenched his fists. The rest of the class sat pressed back in their seats, either whispering or looking on wide-eyed.
‘Have you decided?’
Max’s eyes blazed, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he kicked a chair, sending it skittering across the floor, and stormed out of the room.
Isaac shook his head.
‘I’ll speak to him,’ Sam said. ‘You carry on with your class.’
He half expected to reach the corridor and find Max gone, but he was still there, repeatedly bashing his toe off the wall.
‘Come into my room.’ Sam headed back down the corridor.
‘Why should I?’
‘Because it’s the first step.’
‘The first step to what?’ Max glowered at him.
‘Come in here and I’ll explain.’ Sam led the way into his class and pulled out a seat for Max.
Without looking at him, Sam pulled out a second seat and placed it beside the other one.
He sat down and leaned his wrists on his knees.
Max threw himself onto the seat like he’d been asked to do the most inconvenient thing in the world.
Sam looked at him for a moment, frowning.
‘What are you staring at?’ Max shrugged.
‘Just thinking. The path you’re on just now is one that’s filled with obstacles, triggers, and… well, it’s hard work.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m trying to understand your choices. I don’t know if you’re aware that behaviour is a type of communication.
What is it you want to communicate to us?
That’s what I’m wondering. And while I understand that talking about problems isn’t always easy, sometimes even identifying them is difficult, I can’t help but think that it would be a lot simpler if you could tell us some reasons you’re feeling this way. ’
‘What way?’
‘The way that makes you want to kick walls and shout at teachers.’
‘Because teachers suck.’
Sam smiled. ‘I’m sure that’s been said by many people of your age over the years, probably some of your classmates, but they don’t share that opinion by damaging property or name calling.
If they want to express that opinion, they probably do it quietly among themselves.
’ He caught Max’s eye. ‘And part of that is choice. It’s about choosing how to express yourself in a way that’s appropriate. ’
‘Whatever.’
‘Your grades tell me you have potential.’
‘My grades are shit.’
‘Your grades reflect your effort. You could do better, but you still get by in certain subjects – you seem to like practical subjects more than academic, is that right?’
‘I don’t like any of them.’
‘You do well in design and tech, music, art, and some aspects of IT.’
‘And what use is that?’
‘Depends on your choices. They can all be very useful, but seeing some of your behaviour, it tells me that you choose to misapply your intelligence.’
Max shrugged.
‘If you put your effort into making the right choices, you could make big changes.’
‘For who?’
‘Yourself and your future.’
‘So, you want me to go back in there and sit quietly, listening to him droning on.’
Sam let out a little sigh. ‘That would be the first choice, yes. But it’s the first of many.
In your next class, you choose again. And again.
Then it starts over tomorrow. And it won’t be easy.
It’ll be hard work and take a lot of strength.
But the more you do it, the easier it’ll become.
One day, it’ll be part of who you are. You can make yourself someone who shows up, chooses the sensible path, puts in the effort, and leaves with the rewards.
Or you can continue showing up only when you feel like it, choosing to be disruptive, and leave feeling flat and uncertain. ’
‘You don’t know how I feel.’
‘Would you like me to bring your work in here for this period? You might find it a bit quieter.’
‘Whatever.’
‘I’ll go get it. If you need some air, go sit by the window. It’s a bit stuffy in here.’ Sam left him and went back to Isaac’s class.
‘Where is he?’ Isaac looked around. ‘Has he gone to Ms Robson?’
‘He’s still in my room. Or I hope he is. Let me take his stuff. He’s calmed down a bit, but I think it’s best if we keep him away from the others just now.’
‘Ok, thanks.’ Isaac went over to his desk and lifted Max’s work and his bag.
Sam took it back along the corridor and tried not to act surprised when he saw Max sitting at the table by the open window.
‘Here you go.’ Sam gave him his stuff. ‘Just carry on writing what you can.’ Without looking at him, Sam returned to his desk and opened his laptop. Max didn’t speak either but huffed a few times before putting his head down.
When the bell rang, Max slammed his pen down. ‘Can I go now? Or do I have to sit here all day?’
‘You can pack up and go.’ Sam got to his feet as Max thrust everything into his bag. ‘And think about what I said. We all have choices in life.’
Max shrugged. ‘Sure. Whatever.’
Sam watched him leave the room, leaning on his doorframe, not sure whether anything he’d said would make a difference.
Almost every teacher in the school had tried, so it was unlikely that his words would do anything but drift out of Max’s other ear at any second, and Max would be back to his usual nonsense in his next class.
‘Thanks, man.’ Isaac appeared behind him. ‘I’ve never seen him as bad as that. He was wild.’
‘Yeah. He calmed down after we had a chat, but he’s such a live wire.’
‘You should probably tell Adele or Clara what you said to him. They’re taking notes on him. I’ll have to let them know what he did today.’
‘It’s ok. I’ll speak to them. I’m out of class most of the day, so I’ll have more time.’
‘Thanks. That’d be good. With the inspectors roaming about, I can do without all this.’
‘I hear you.’ Sam gave him a commiserative look. ‘Just a few more days to get through.’ He headed off down the corridor, dodging groups of students and making his way to the stairs. No time like the present. If he could catch Adele or Clara now, it would get this out of the way.
As he went to knock on Clara’s door, he realised it was slightly open, and he heard her talking inside.
‘It’s fine. It just hits me sometimes. And I’m already so stressed with the inspection. They were in here this morning quizzing me. I don’t normally let it affect me… Oh, it’s daft.’
‘Not at all,’ came Lissa’s voice. ‘And you’ve got an appointment this week too?’
‘Yes, and I’m dreading it. Because I know what they’re going to say.’
‘What? Are you really ill or something?’
‘It’s not terminal or anything, but I know from the GP appointment I had at half term that I’m probably going through premature menopause. I’m only thirty-four.’
‘Aw sweetheart.’
Sam frowned. This didn’t sound like something Clara would want him to interrupt.
Christ. He shouldn’t even have heard that.
It wasn’t his business to know her private issues unless she shared them with him.
He needed to forget he’d heard it, though at the same time his heart went out to her.
He knew only too well what it felt like to have your choice ripped from you.
The following morning, Sam yawned as he headed into school.
His head felt like lead. A few cars dotted the car park, and he suspected a lot of staff were in early prepping and over-prepping in case the inspectors arrived in their class.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder.
Already the spring sun was out, and it felt warmer than it had done over the past few weeks.
Not warm enough to discard his jacket though.
Not until he got inside anyway, where the classrooms could get stuffy.