any thanks for it.”
Pandora lowered her head and concentrated on her cereal. When their mother was in a mood, it was best just to let her get on with it. Probably, she was concerned that her daughters would let her down and that this would reflect badly upon her. Her mother placed great emphasis on public appearances.
Pandora continued to squirm as she buttered her toast. The new skirt was finding all sorts of embarrassing places to irritate. Did the manufacturer deliberately make it to be so uncomfortable against the skin? She resolved that before she left the house, she would slip a pair of shorts underneath the itchy green fabric.
As arranged, Mrs Laskaris got the girls to the headmistress’s office at a quarter to nine. Despite the warmth of the day, Miss Hill was wearing a rather heavy, old-fashioned dress.
“I have your files here,” said the headmistress, placing a hand on three brown folders on her desk. There was another pile of similar brown folders at her elbow. “I have your test results and assessments from your previous school.” Her eyes flickered over the three girls as though she did not approve of her new pupils. She only softened when she looked back at the files on her desk. Her hand gently caressed the topmost report.
“No problems, I hope?” warbled Mrs Laskaris.
“These test results are profoundly unsatisfactory,” snapped Miss Hill, finally showing some emotion. “All are well below the standard we expect here at St Hilda’s.”
“I’m afraid their old school wasn’t very good, academically,” began Mrs Laskaris, before being cut off by Miss Hill.
“The results speak for themselves. The government-approved curriculum is the yardstick by which we measure and define the progress of the students and thus determine which students are falling behind the predetermined, authorised, acceptable standards. Your daughters, I’m afraid to say, are well behind the predetermined, authorised, acceptable standards.”
“I’m sure now that they’re in a better school,” twittered Mrs Laskaris, her cheeks glowing red with shame, “that their grades will improve.”
“I certainly hope so,” replied Miss Hill, who seemed to trust the paperwork more than she trusted people. “We have excellent academic standards at this school, and we do not tolerate any students pulling down the average by getting poor results in their exams. I have organised a schedule so that the girls can have extra work, both in the evening and at weekends, so that they may catch up with the rest of the school.”
“Extra work?” gasped Pandora. “We never had any complaints at the old school about our work!”
Miss Hill looked shocked that Pandora had spoken. “We do not talk back to teachers at St Hilda’s,” she snapped. “Such behaviour is outrageous and unacceptable.”
“I’m not talking back,” protested Pandora in astonishment. “I’m simply saying—”
“That will do!” yapped Miss Hill, her composure almost shattered by Pandora’s behaviour. “I have never known such reprehensible manners from a new student before! I see there is much work to be done. It is nine o’clock. You will all report to your form tutors for your weekly schedules. I shall be writing notes to your tutors warning them of your insolence.” She got up, marched to the door and wrenched it open.
Mrs Laskaris gathered the girls up and pushed them out of the office, squeezing Pandora shoulder as she did so in warning against saying anything else.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Hill,” said Mrs Laskaris as the office door shut behind the three girls. Pandora strained her ears, hoping to hear a little bit more, but the school receptionist collected the three girls together and marched them down the corridor.
“Oh, great, thanks a lot, Pan,” said Sarah. “Our first day here and we’re already in trouble.”
“Yeah, thanks to you, we’ve made a bad impression,” complained Anne.
Pandora looked in hurt
Pandora lowered her head and concentrated on her cereal. When their mother was in a mood, it was best just to let her get on with it. Probably, she was concerned that her daughters would let her down and that this would reflect badly upon her. Her mother placed great emphasis on public appearances.
Pandora continued to squirm as she buttered her toast. The new skirt was finding all sorts of embarrassing places to irritate. Did the manufacturer deliberately make it to be so uncomfortable against the skin? She resolved that before she left the house, she would slip a pair of shorts underneath the itchy green fabric.
As arranged, Mrs Laskaris got the girls to the headmistress’s office at a quarter to nine. Despite the warmth of the day, Miss Hill was wearing a rather heavy, old-fashioned dress.
“I have your files here,” said the headmistress, placing a hand on three brown folders on her desk. There was another pile of similar brown folders at her elbow. “I have your test results and assessments from your previous school.” Her eyes flickered over the three girls as though she did not approve of her new pupils. She only softened when she looked back at the files on her desk. Her hand gently caressed the topmost report.
“No problems, I hope?” warbled Mrs Laskaris.
“These test results are profoundly unsatisfactory,” snapped Miss Hill, finally showing some emotion. “All are well below the standard we expect here at St Hilda’s.”
“I’m afraid their old school wasn’t very good, academically,” began Mrs Laskaris, before being cut off by Miss Hill.
“The results speak for themselves. The government-approved curriculum is the yardstick by which we measure and define the progress of the students and thus determine which students are falling behind the predetermined, authorised, acceptable standards. Your daughters, I’m afraid to say, are well behind the predetermined, authorised, acceptable standards.”
“I’m sure now that they’re in a better school,” twittered Mrs Laskaris, her cheeks glowing red with shame, “that their grades will improve.”
“I certainly hope so,” replied Miss Hill, who seemed to trust the paperwork more than she trusted people. “We have excellent academic standards at this school, and we do not tolerate any students pulling down the average by getting poor results in their exams. I have organised a schedule so that the girls can have extra work, both in the evening and at weekends, so that they may catch up with the rest of the school.”
“Extra work?” gasped Pandora. “We never had any complaints at the old school about our work!”
Miss Hill looked shocked that Pandora had spoken. “We do not talk back to teachers at St Hilda’s,” she snapped. “Such behaviour is outrageous and unacceptable.”
“I’m not talking back,” protested Pandora in astonishment. “I’m simply saying—”
“That will do!” yapped Miss Hill, her composure almost shattered by Pandora’s behaviour. “I have never known such reprehensible manners from a new student before! I see there is much work to be done. It is nine o’clock. You will all report to your form tutors for your weekly schedules. I shall be writing notes to your tutors warning them of your insolence.” She got up, marched to the door and wrenched it open.
Mrs Laskaris gathered the girls up and pushed them out of the office, squeezing Pandora shoulder as she did so in warning against saying anything else.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Hill,” said Mrs Laskaris as the office door shut behind the three girls. Pandora strained her ears, hoping to hear a little bit more, but the school receptionist collected the three girls together and marched them down the corridor.
“Oh, great, thanks a lot, Pan,” said Sarah. “Our first day here and we’re already in trouble.”
“Yeah, thanks to you, we’ve made a bad impression,” complained Anne.
Pandora looked in hurt
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