1403: Part 18

“Don’t forget that Parents Evening for Year 11 is at the start of next week,” said Rhodes, who was delivering the staff briefing today. Kristina knew that his name was Tom, but given the age difference between them she couldn’t help but think of him as “Mr Rhodes”. “You’ll need your students to make appointments with you. Please try and see as many parents as you can, it’s important that they’re kept abreast of their children’s progress.”

A stack of appointment sheets was passed from one teacher to another in the staffroom. Kristina took her copy and passed the stack on, then looked down at it glumly.

She hated Parents Evening. She always felt afraid that the parents were going to accuse her of not doing her job properly, or that her students had been telling them what a bad job she’d been doing. She knew from past experience that this was an irrational fear, and that, for the most part, parents seemed to like her, but she still couldn’t help thinking those things.

At least in the case of her GCSE group, there weren’t that many sets of parents to see given the relatively small size of the class. And she felt pretty confident about what she was going to say to most of them — all except one, in fact.

 

*  *  *  *

“Miss,” said Edward. Kristina looked up from her desk with a start. She hadn’t heard him come in.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, quickly composing herself. “Sorry, Edward, I didn’t hear you come in. What can I do for you?”

“I need an appointment,” he said, sullenly thrusting a sheet similar to Kristina’s own in front of her. “My Dad wants to talk to you.”

Kristina felt the familiar, anxious knot in her stomach. After what Sian had told her the previous night, she was curious to meet Edward’s father, too, but she was also wary of what sort of person he might be. She didn’t know whether or not what Edward had said to Sian should be taken seriously — or even if she should know it at all. She decided not to broach the topic right now, and instead to seek advice from the team down at the special educational needs unit. After all, it was their job to know what to do in situations like this.

“Okay,” she said. “What time would you like?”

“Seven,” he said.

“All right,” said Kristina, writing his name in the appropriate slot. It was just her luck — Parents Evening ran from immediately after school until 8 in the evening, and all the other appointments she’d made so far had been much earlier in the day. Still, she thought, a big gap in the middle would give her the opportunity to drink some coffee and mentally prepare herself for whatever might happen with Edward and his father — assuming they showed up at all, of course.

“Edward, is everything all right?” she said.

“Yes,” he said bluntly, then turned and walked out without another word. She was growing accustomed to his peculiar behaviour, and was glad that he, for the most part, seemed to be responding to her in a much more positive way than he had done in the past. There had been no angry outbursts, no threats of violence, nothing that had made her feel scared.

Of course, a lot of this was because — she freely admitted this — she had been pandering to his whims somewhat by allowing him to come and work in the classroom when he had been kicked out of other lessons, but she figured it was better that way for a quiet life than running the risk of further confrontation. He was, at least, getting the work done for her class, after all.

After Edward left, Kristina looked at the clock. There was still a good 30 minutes of the lunch break left, so she decided to walk down to the special educational needs unit to get some advice.

A few students milling around the hallways greeted her as she walked past them, and she nodded politely in response. She found herself wondering where Sian was and what she was up to; she’d seen her earlier to make a Parents Evening appointment, but aside from that, she’d seen no sign of her.

As she pondered, she ended up at the unassuming door to “the Unit” as most people on staff called it. She knocked on the door and waited for someone to come and answer; as it happened, it was the kindly teaching assistant who had helped her out with Edward on those couple of previous occasions.

“Oh,” said Kristina. “Hello.”

“Hello, Miss Charles,” said the teaching assistant.

“Kristina, please,” said Kristina. “I’m so sorry, you’ve been in my classroom several times and I’m completely unsure of your name.”

The teaching assistant laughed.

“Millie,” she said. “Millie Miller. And yes, I know.”

Kristina smirked, then remembered that she was here on serious business.

“May I come in?” she asked politely. “I need to talk to someone about a few things, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” said Millie. “Please, come on in. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Kristina had never been inside the Unit before. Behind the door was a corridor with two doors on either side. On the right, large windows looked into rooms that each had a few chairs and tables, plus a selection of cushions, soft toys and boxes of games and activities. On the left, the wall was decorated with what Kristina assumed was the work of the children who came to work in the Unit on a regular basis.

Longmore was unusually well-equipped to deal with children who had special educational needs thanks to the Unit, so the proportion of children who came there with such needs was significantly higher than the national average. A lot of these children were significantly behind in terms of attainment and would more than likely struggle to attain the same qualifications as their peers, but the Unit provided them with a supportive environment in which they could feel safe and supported.

The Unit didn’t just cater to children with disabilities; it also dealt with children who were struggling with difficult personal circumstances or emotional and behavioural difficulties such as Edward. Kristina greatly respected the work that the staff of the Unit did, even if she didn’t quite understand how they put up with what they had to put up with every day.

Millie led Kristina through one of the doors on the left wall, which led into a spacious office-cum-staffroom. Several other teaching assistants were sitting back in chairs drinking coffee, and one staff member was typing something up on the computer.

Millie sat down and gestured for Kristina to do the same.

“I wanted to talk about Edward Jennings,” said Kristina. “I have a few concerns.”

“Oh, don’t we all,” said one of the other assistants with a jocular tone. “That poor boy.”

“Um,” said Kristina, looking around. “Is it all right to talk here like this?”

“We all know the deal here,” said Millie. “We wouldn’t be able to do our jobs if we didn’t know what was going on with the kids we have to work with.”

Kristina nodded. “Okay, um, so. Can I ask what you know about Edward already?”

“Specifics are on a need-to-know basis,” said Millie, “But what was said in the staff meeting was accurate; he’s having some trouble at home, which might be reflected in his behaviour. When he wasn’t showing up to school, that was less of an issue — truancy is a different matter to deal with — but now he’s seemingly coming along a bit more regularly, we have to be careful.”

“Okay,” said Kristina. “Well, I’m not entirely sure how to bring this up, so I’ll just say what I’ve heard.”

Kristina explained what Sian had told her, taking care to leave out the fact that she had done so via text message and instead making up a little white lie that Sian had just come to tell her after school one day. She explained how Sian was worried about Edward, and that she had promised not to tell anyone his “secret” but had felt like she had to inform someone. She explained the fears that they both had that Edward’s father might be hurting Edward, and Kristina admitted that she was feeling somewhat nervous about the prospect of meeting Edward’s father at the upcoming Parents Evening.

After Kristina finished talking, Millie chewed thoughtfully on the lid of a pen she had pulled out of her pocket.

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, this is a concern, and something we’ll have to take very seriously. As for Parents Evening, you’ll be in the hall with all the other teachers, so you should be safe. I doubt that he’ll do anything — assuming he wants to try anything, that is — while that many other people are around.”

“What should I do in the meantime?” asked Kristina.

“Keep doing what you’ve been doing,” said Millie. Edward’s told me in private that he feels like he’s safe in your classroom, and that he likes to come there when he feels like he can’t cope. If you don’t mind him coming in and doing what he’s been doing on the computer, then keep doing that.”

“What about the inspectors?” said Kristina. “Edward barged into my Year 7 lesson yesterday, and I was being observed.”

“You should be fine,” said Millie. “In my experience, they’re mostly interested in you delivering a good lesson without interruptions, so if you can get him straight in with minimal disruption, that should be fine.”

“Okay,” said Kristina. She started to feel a little better — more confident, even.

Then the bell went for the start of afternoon classes, and that confidence instantly dissipated as she remembered she had her worst year 9 class to cap off the day with.