Star Teacher by Jack Sheffield

a ‘safe pair of hands’ as our supply teacher.
    She was chatting with Pat and recalling that, at six feet tall, she had been an enthusiastic netball player in her younger days. Valerie was an elegant figure in a beautifully tailored trouser suit, her favoured style of dress. While the traditional Vera still frowned at female staff wearing trousers, Miss Flint had become a firm ally of mine on my first day at Ragley when I had ended this particular outdated restriction on female clothing implemented by my predecessor.
    Finally it was time to leave for the headteachers’ meeting.
    â€˜Good luck, Mr Sheffield,’ said Vera and I wondered just how much she knew. Her husband, Rupert, mixed in higher circles and was familiar with local politics.
    It had been difficult not to reveal the professional confidence shared by Richard Gomersall. The possible amalgamation of Ragley and Morton would have a huge impact on our school and community. However, soon I was driving along the Ripon Road in the hope that all could be resolved.
    The wheels of my car crunched along the winding gravel driveway towards a magnificent Georgian mansion set in five hundred acres of the finest Yorkshire countryside. High Sutton Hall was a distinctive country house with a lake and a walled garden, and was a superb venue for meetings. It provided a welcome retreat for teachers to talk and share ideas, and the cuisine was always excellent.
    The room was filling with men and women in grey suits and sombre expressions. I collected my package of booklets and leaflets and wondered how many trees had been sacrificed to facilitate this gathering. I found a seat and it wasn’t long before Rufus Timmings, the headteacher of Morton Primary School, sought me out.
    Rufus was a short, squat, barrel-chested man, more a bulldog than a greyhound, although he moved at a surprisingly fast pace through the crowd when he spotted me. Although only in his early thirties, he was balding prematurely and reminded me of the irrepressible Gerald Campion, the actor who played the part of Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School.
    He immediately engaged me in conversation. ‘Hello, Jack, how are you?’
    I noticed that his smart grey three-piece suit made me look a little shabby in comparison. ‘Fine, thank you, Rufus,’ I said. ‘So, have you settled in?’
    â€˜Yes, of course,’ he said with confidence. Then he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘But Miss Tripps had let things slide rather badly and I’m restoring order.’
    I wasn’t happy about him criticizing his predecessor, a dedicated lady who had always given her best for the children in her care. ‘Miss Tripps was a wonderful servant to Morton village,’ I said, ‘but change is inevitable, I suppose.’
    â€˜Too true, Jack, and never more than now. My school will almost certainly be closed with such a small number on roll.’
    â€˜That’s difficult news for the village,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, but it doesn’t make
economic
sense to keep it open.’ He tapped the cover of his spiral-bound booklet. ‘That’s why we’re here today.’
    His candour puzzled me. There was an obvious vibrancy and vigour about this young man. He spoke with an outgoing confidence, clearly comfortable in his own skin. I was surprised at his relaxed manner.
    â€˜You don’t seem too concerned,’ I observed.
    He sniggered rather than laughed and tapped the side of his nose with a stubby forefinger. ‘Well, the Morton headship is just a stepping stone for me … simply the first rung on the ladder towards a bigger headship.’
    â€˜I see,’ I said. The bell rang to signal the commencement of the conference. ‘Well, good luck, I hope it works out for you.’
    We shook hands and he hurried off to claim a seat in the front row.
    Richard Gomersall introduced the agenda for the afternoon and began by