Eight Thirty

 Eight thirty

This is a true story. During my teaching career I held a post deemed 'Teacher in charge of the nursery and remedial education.' There were two nursey classes of twenty five children, each having two nursery trained nursery assistants.. 

I soon realised that as far as the Head Teacher was concerned my post was in name only. Her ideas were, how shall I say? Old fashioned. As I was recently qualified my were somewhat different. 

I did try to engage the nursery staff in new ideas but failed miserably. I suggested that I could arrange exchanges for a day or even half a day with other nurseries. These were nurseries that I had visited and found them to be innovative. My suggestions were met with blank refusals. The staffs stubbornness to change was evident to me when I discovered that the wall displays were taken down at the end of each term, placed in the store room and taken out and reused the following year. The furniture in the rooms was never, I mean never, moved or re-arranged. One member of staff was away on maternity leave and the other teacher and the temporary supply teacher re-arranged the tables and cupboards. The new mother returned and after two weeks I asked her how she was coping with the new arrangement. She said that it took all her control to stop herself from screaming for the first few days but she had gradually become used to it.

One Autumn term, in  late in September we were notified that some poisonous fungi had appeared suddenly as fungi is wont to. I forgot to mention that the school had a large, very large playing field. All the classrooms had a door which lead via a flagged patio onto the field. Most classes this was mainly used at dinner time. 

However when the weather was warm and dry the nursery children used the field frequently. We, that is the whole staff were warned about the poisonous fungi which, we were told resembled edible mushrooms. As theoretically I was 'in charge of the nursery' I walked down the corridor to the nursery classrooms. The first was empty as I thought it would be as all the children were out on the field. I went to the second and found one member of staff and a child sitting on a chair. 'Why is Johnny sitting there when all the others are outside.' 

 Unbelievably the answer came. 'He is a very naughty boy. I told him not to eat the toadstools.' 

I picked Johnny up and was out of the door as I heard.  I told him that they are not mushrooms even if they look like mushrooms.'

I ran with him to the office where the Head Mistress rang for his parent. I suggested that an ambulance would be quicker. To be honest I don't remember how he got to the hospital but the head had the forethought to send a sample of the fungi to the hospital where poor little Johnny had his stomach pumped. 

The next day I rang Johnny's Mum to ask about visiting times at the hospital. She said, 'Ate thirty.' 

I said, ' That can't be right. Do you mean eighteen thirty?'

'No, I mean yes ' she said visiting times are eighteen thirty to eight thirty.  But Johnny ate thirty toadstools. That's why he had his stomach pumped.'

When I asked what happened the next day it was his Mum who said. 'He absolutely loves mushrooms. He is lucky to be alive because he ate thirty.