Mr Benson was a strong believer in cooperation and collaboration, particularly where his students were concerned. Every opportunity he had, he encouraged them to work together on projects and get to know each other a little better. At times this led to conflicts, especially in the more “lively” classes, as he termed them, but on the whole he felt it was a positive teaching strategy, and one which had seen him comfortably through several school inspections with a “Good” rating.

It was a new term, a new chance for the kids to group up and work together. 9F weren’t the most cooperative class in the world, but most of them had seemed to accept the fact that English might be a relatively important subject, at least as far as qualifications were concerned.

He surveyed the classroom, the pupils gradually moving into their friendship groups to work on the first assignment he’d given them: to prepare a short interview-style presentation on a book they’d read recently. He always kept the first assignment of a new term relatively freeform and allowed the students to pick who they worked with. As time went on, he deliberately mixed them up and made them work with people they might not normally think to collaborate with. Sometimes this had disastrous consequences, but more often than not he found it had a positive impact on the interpersonal relationships in the classroom.

There was a wild card this time, though. He glanced at the new girl sitting in the corner and frowned at his register. Erin Adams, her name was, scruffily added in pen underneath the cleanly-printed class list he was already familiar with. He’d taught 9F when they were still 8F, and even the “tough” kids in the class gave him some grudging respect. This Adams girl, though, she was an unknown quantity — and judging by her reticence, she felt the same way about her peers.

“Erin,” said Benson. “Having trouble finding a group?”

“Y-yes,” she said meekly. “I’m new.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, smiling. “How about you go and work with Berri and Danielle?” He indicated a pair of smiling girls sitting in the corner, knowing full well that they were probably the friendliest of the whole bunch. “Berri? Danielle? You all right with that?”

The two girls nodded and beamed at him. Mr Benson was their favourite. They secretly both harboured a crush on him, but neither would dare admit it to the other, and certainly not to him.

Erin wandered over to the pair of girls and stood looking at them shyly, waiting for one of them to speak.

“Hey,” said the blonde girl. “I’m Berri. You knew that already, probably. But I think this is the first time we’ve spoken.”

“And I’m Danielle,” said the girl with auburn hair. “You might have known that already, too. You’re Erin, right?”

“Yes,” said Erin. “I’m, err, new.”

Berri giggled.

“Well, no shit. C’mon, this class may act tough but they’re easy enough to ignore. Let’s get started.”

Benson sat down at his desk and began to mark books as the murmuring of conversation began to take hold of the class. Over the course of ten minutes, the murmuring had crescendoed to chattering, and the volume was gradually increasing bit by bit. He knew perfectly well that a goodly proportion of the group weren’t listening, so he pulled out his favourite trick.

“All right!” he bellowed, slamming a hardback dictionary down on the desk as hard as he could. His Internet-connected computer in the corner of the room had made physical dictionaries almost obsolete, but he kept the bulky volume around specifically to bang on the desk when he needed to restore order. “And stop.”

The chattering gradually subsided, a few disgruntled-looking boys in the corner continuing to whisper for a few seconds longer than anyone else. Benson frowned at them, but said nothing, and they too fell silent.

“I want to just check you’re all getting on all right,” he said. “And to do that, you’re going to tell me what your group is going to talk about.”

Benson methodically questioned each group in the room on what they were covering. He weeded out those who were slacking and made a mental note to have a quiet word with them once discussion started once more, and publicly praised those who had taken on ambitious books.

When he came round to Erin, Danielle and Berri’s group, he actually applauded when Erin claimed to have read Pride and Prejudice.

“I watched the TV series,” admitted Erin. “And I thought it might be fun to read it. You know how people always say that books are always better than films, right? I wanted to see if it was true with a TV series.”

“Loser,” muttered a boy in the corner. Darren Jackson, Benson’s least favourite student. He tried very hard not to have favourites — and, for that matter, least favourites — but when a child was as obnoxious as Darren was, it was difficult not to dislike him. Benson knew there were extenuating circumstances — a broken home life, some possibly-spurious medical condition, a brother in prison — but he didn’t felt that excused poor behaviour.

“Darren,” said Benson coolly. “What you have done there is made a choice. You have made a choice to be rude and unpleasant to someone we should be making feel welcome. You can wait behind after class, if you please.”

Darren tutted, but didn’t argue further. He’d learned long ago that Benson was impossible to argue against. Benson only raised his voice when he was banging his dictionary on the table, and even then only to get the students’ attention. He certainly never did it in anger.

Erin looked around at everyone who was staring at her after what she had said, and Darren’s outburst. She blushed and sat down again.

“Wow,” said Berri. “You’re smart. Don’t mind Darren, he’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” said Danielle. “Stick with us and you’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Erin absently, but she wasn’t really listening. Her hands were shaking and she felt more nervous than she had ever been in her life. She’d spoken up, and someone had ridiculed her. It was going to take a while to recover from this one.