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Miss Stickler at the School for Young Lovelies

Discussion in 'Personal' started by cherryaimless, Oct 17, 2006.

  1. cherryaimless

    cherryaimless New commenter

    Chapter One: Miss Stickler Begins Her Day

    Almost as soon as the alarm began ringing, Miss Stickler leapt out of bed and began her morning Yoga routine. It was the first day of the second week of the new academic year, and Miss Stickler was ready for anything. She threw open the sash window of her spacious, minimalist bedroom and slid open the Japanese style doors that separated her sleeping space from the rest of her loft style appartment. Yes! She sighed, as she breathed in the fresh September air. Today was the day. Today was the day that Kyle Reeves would truly understand what was meant by authorial intent.
    Almost in no time at all, she had driven the three miles to school. No need to worry about living within the catchment area of the School for Lovelies. How Miss Stickler had recoiled from horror stories told her by colleagues from other schools; stories about eggs at Halloween and...gosh, even swearing at teachers on bus stops! As Miss Stickler stepped out of her car, she was greeted with a hearty "Good morning" from a lad in Year 10. He was lounging against the wall of the Sports Hall, engrossed in a much loved copy of "Pride and Prejudice".
    "Good morning, Warren," sang back Miss Stickler, juggling her satchel and her TES.
    "Oh, Miss Stickler," came another voice from behind her.
    "Yes, Chelsie?" answered Miss Stickler, recognising the voice of an insecure Year 11 girl, and turning swiftly.
    "I've got that essay on the Omniscient Author transferred to disk for you, like you asked." Chelsie went red as she addressed her teacher, mostly out of respect but also because she was still bursting with pride at having been asked to complete a task by Miss Stickler.
    "Thank you, Chelsie," said Miss Stickler. "Would you mind awfully bringing it to my room at break time? You could take me through it so I don't do your work an injustice!"
    And thus the day began. Miss Stickler hummed as she strolled along to her classromm, a large, airy room, with enough space for 45 pupils in it, even though her largest class consisted of just 23 students.
    First lesson was Project X with Year 8. Miss Stickler set up her interactive whiteboards and plugged in the laptops along the ledge at the back of the room. Year 8 were quietly lined up expectantly outside the room. On the dot of 8.55, Miss Stickler went to greet them. Without one word from her, they silently filtered in and got themselves ready.
    Allana Rosepetal put up her hand. Miss Stickler invited her to speak.
    "Miss Stickler, I was wondering whether I might not sit next to Dwayne today? We had a row at the weekend for which I've still not forgiven him," explained Allana, politely. Dwayne looked slightly perturbed, but didn't say a word.
    "Well, now, Allana," began Miss Stickler, "don't you think you should put this disagreement behind you, and get on with it? After all, you aren't in my lesson to socialise, merely to broaden your horizons and strengthen your knowledge."
    "Fair comment, Miss Stickler," replied Allana. "Point taken."
    "Thank you, Allana," said Miss Stickler, and she and Allana shared a smile. Dwayne offered Allana his hand of friendship. Allana looked at Miss Stickler, who nodded imperceptibly. Allana shook Dwayne's hand and the lesson began in earnest.


    Continue this vomit inducing fairy tale in your own way while retaining the author's personal style and tone.


     
  2. cherryaimless

    cherryaimless New commenter

    Chapter One: Miss Stickler Begins Her Day

    Almost as soon as the alarm began ringing, Miss Stickler leapt out of bed and began her morning Yoga routine. It was the first day of the second week of the new academic year, and Miss Stickler was ready for anything. She threw open the sash window of her spacious, minimalist bedroom and slid open the Japanese style doors that separated her sleeping space from the rest of her loft style appartment. Yes! She sighed, as she breathed in the fresh September air. Today was the day. Today was the day that Kyle Reeves would truly understand what was meant by authorial intent.
    Almost in no time at all, she had driven the three miles to school. No need to worry about living within the catchment area of the School for Lovelies. How Miss Stickler had recoiled from horror stories told her by colleagues from other schools; stories about eggs at Halloween and...gosh, even swearing at teachers on bus stops! As Miss Stickler stepped out of her car, she was greeted with a hearty "Good morning" from a lad in Year 10. He was lounging against the wall of the Sports Hall, engrossed in a much loved copy of "Pride and Prejudice".
    "Good morning, Warren," sang back Miss Stickler, juggling her satchel and her TES.
    "Oh, Miss Stickler," came another voice from behind her.
    "Yes, Chelsie?" answered Miss Stickler, recognising the voice of an insecure Year 11 girl, and turning swiftly.
    "I've got that essay on the Omniscient Author transferred to disk for you, like you asked." Chelsie went red as she addressed her teacher, mostly out of respect but also because she was still bursting with pride at having been asked to complete a task by Miss Stickler.
    "Thank you, Chelsie," said Miss Stickler. "Would you mind awfully bringing it to my room at break time? You could take me through it so I don't do your work an injustice!"
    And thus the day began. Miss Stickler hummed as she strolled along to her classromm, a large, airy room, with enough space for 45 pupils in it, even though her largest class consisted of just 23 students.
    First lesson was Project X with Year 8. Miss Stickler set up her interactive whiteboards and plugged in the laptops along the ledge at the back of the room. Year 8 were quietly lined up expectantly outside the room. On the dot of 8.55, Miss Stickler went to greet them. Without one word from her, they silently filtered in and got themselves ready.
    Allana Rosepetal put up her hand. Miss Stickler invited her to speak.
    "Miss Stickler, I was wondering whether I might not sit next to Dwayne today? We had a row at the weekend for which I've still not forgiven him," explained Allana, politely. Dwayne looked slightly perturbed, but didn't say a word.
    "Well, now, Allana," began Miss Stickler, "don't you think you should put this disagreement behind you, and get on with it? After all, you aren't in my lesson to socialise, merely to broaden your horizons and strengthen your knowledge."
    "Fair comment, Miss Stickler," replied Allana. "Point taken."
    "Thank you, Allana," said Miss Stickler, and she and Allana shared a smile. Dwayne offered Allana his hand of friendship. Allana looked at Miss Stickler, who nodded imperceptibly. Allana shook Dwayne's hand and the lesson began in earnest.


    Continue this vomit inducing fairy tale in your own way while retaining the author's personal style and tone.


     
  3. The thirty minute cardio-aerobic workout at the staffroom's newly installed fitness annexe was just what Clint Thrust had needed that morning. He was still eleated after the Fifth XV girls' lacrosse squad had beaten the Canadian national side 23-0 last night in an exhbition match at the school stadium.

    But now Clint knew he had to focus on his Sixth Form World Improvement and Fluffy Puppy A-Level group - they were sitting their mock practical paper this morning and he was keen to set up the replica United Nations forum in the hall.

    Amanda Pleasant, the subject prefect, was waiting for him as he reached the foot of the grand staircase.

    "Good morning sir" she trilled, "Would you like one of these strawberry muffins I baked this morning whilst I was waiting for my shoe polish to dry?"

    Clint looked in the hall and was delighted to see that the Yr 9 girls had done their needlework homework. The flags of all nations looked splendid against the oak hammer-beam roof supports.
     
  4. Meanwhile, just along the leafy lane, Mrs. Eliza Zoological walked along to the local primary school, St Peacefuls. As she approached the front door the school secretary thoughtfully pressed the buzzer so that she could walk through without putting down the box of books that she was carrying.

    She smiled her thanks and went on into her roomy classrom. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, Eliza went over and pressed the switch that automatically closed the blinds. The ICT technician had already set up her interactive whiteboard and the days lessons were planned and ready. She sighed, the bell rang and her class of 25 pupils came in and settled down quitely. Each taking a book out of their book bag and quickly becoming absorbed.

    Assembly started promptly, the head already waiting at the front of the huge hall to give yet another inspiring talk about caring for the environment. Mrs. Moneypenny, the school's resident musician, sat at the grand piano, the school orchestra looked up expectantly. Assembly began, but Eliza could think only of Clint.


     
  5. And how lovely it was that they had both been able to air their views on personalised learning at that mornings staff briefing, over freshly gound coffee beans from the Himilayas and strawberry muffins.

    Meanwhile, Miss Stickler proceeded to assess and comment mark every pupil's book in Year 8, whilst they diligently researched their project. It was nice to see such beautiful examples of penmanship in these modern days of computers. It was also nice to see that all pupils had not only carried out the corrections to their previous work, but found some extension questions, carried them out, peer marked them and given oral feedback to one another. Ho hum, that meant another evening watching DVDs whilst sipping Moet and Chandon for Miss Stickler whilst she daydreamed of Warren from year 10...
     
  6. And yet into each life some rain must fall...

    Miss Diligent, the Head's secretary, spent the morning individually visiting all members of staff to inform them that the OFSTED inspection scheduled for later that week had been cancelled.

    This was a major disappointment as the school looked forward to the opportunity to share best practice, assimilate the latest teaching and assessment techniques and to allow others to observe their well planned, thoughtfully structured and meticulously detailed lessons.

    The lead inspector, Dr Terribly-Nice, had written the following:

    Dear All at the School for Young Lovelies

    I am very sorry that my team and I cannot now visit your super super school. We have read your lovely lovely SEF and we particularly enjoyed the illuminated manuscript work on the header page of each section - plase pass on our appreciation to Mr Rembrandt and his Yr 7 art class.

    We feel sure that your school is as lovely and super as you relate in the report and feel it would not be fair to your super and lovely children to cause any disruption to their scheduled performance of "Return to Blood Mountain" in the school open-air theatre.

    Lots of love

    Dr Terribly-Nice
     
  7. Over at St Peacefuls, Eliza sighed once more. Her class had walked quietly back to class. Butch, the door montitor opened the door for her, Chantelle gave out the pristine Literacy books, and the pupils began to copy out the date and learning objective immediately as they had all remembered to store their fountain pens carefully in thier drawers the evening before.
    After the lesson was over, Eliza dismissed the children quickly as the delicious smell of roast beef drifted from the kitchen. How did Jamie manage to create the delicious menu day after day on only 35p per pupil?
    Uninvited, Clint drifted back in to her mind, and she looked forward to meeting him outside school at 4pm for tea at the local olde worlde tea shoppe. She hoped he would be able to stay longer than the night before when he had rushed off to check the tapestry that he had been working on with his after school embroidery club.
     
  8. sp. their
     
  9. The disapointment was heavily felt in the staff room at lunchtime. The PTA at the last minute, having heard of the distress of the cancelled OFSTED quickly contacted Fortum and Mason and sent over a fine spread of hot buttered crumpets, cucumber sandwiches and an array of tea cakes for the consumption of the melancholic staff. Revitalised by the repast, Miss Stickler returned to her spacious classroom for a free period, as was the custom for all female teachers directly after refreshment. She turned on the in classroom surround sound stereo to the soulful and soothing tunes of Vivaldi and switched on the "Autograde 2000" - a beautiful piece of wizardary that graded all work by placing a light pen over the work in question. With 100% acuracy and direct wireless feed to the parents email, it meant that Progress Reports were a thing of the past as the parents were constantly kept up to speed with their darlhing's progress. One hundred papers and 10 minutes later, the tea lady arrived with a refreshing cup of herbal tea. The Year 9 Cultural Environments class lined up outside of the door. Having studied the context of the Chinese Education System the week before, the class were contesting to see who would fit best into this system while chanting soothing karma as they took their seats.
     
  10. cherryaimless

    cherryaimless New commenter

    Miss Stickler could hear the pleasant sound of controlled, balanced, heated debate filtering through her wall from the classroom next door. She guessed that Mr Thrust had once again successfully initiated his United Nations scheme of Work, which had made the Inspectors so thrilled during last term's inspection. Good old Mr Thrust. Miss Stickler smiled to think of the virile young teacher who had made his mark so definitely at the school for Young Lovelies - and not just academically!
    "Miss Stickler?"
    One of her Year 9s looked up from the third draft of her essay she'd been crafting for the past five lessons, never once tiring of making it better in order to get that all important Level 8.
    "Yes, Leesha?"
    "Have I enough time to look up an alternative word in the Thesaurus? I've used conscientious twice already."
    Miss Stickler nodded her approval.
    Suddenly, the door opened and in walked Amanda Pleasant and the Head Boy, Ryan Cool.
    "Sorry to disturb, Miss Stckler, but Ms Efficient needs your signature on a Pozzitificate forthwith, and Ryan and I are to look after your class for the interim." Amanda smoothed her slimline grey skirt that showed off all her maturity.
    "Certainly, Amanda," said Miss Stickler, gathering her Waterman fountain pen and a paperclip from her desk. "Thank you."
    Not a student stirred as Miss Stickler left the room. Amanda and Ryan walked around the room, glancing at the students' work and smiling.
     
  11. feeling totally outclassed now!
     
  12. cherryaimless

    cherryaimless New commenter

    Oh, but Pasty! You are doing brilliantly! Come on, don't lose it! Let's see if we can't earn you a Pozzitificate!
     
  13. A meeting is called at St Peacefuls at lunchtime. The staff gather in the delightful staffroom, each helping themselves to a speciality belgian chocolate before settling into the comfy designer sofas that lined the room.
    "I have some news" announces the head beaming, "As you may of heard, the OFSTED inspection at Miss Sticklers School for young Lovelies has been cancelled..."
    The staff gasp collectively in disappointment for their colleagues with whom they had such a close bond. Nobody was surprised last year when the two schools had won the "Perfect Transition Y6-7" Award.
    "It's fantastic news.." the head goes on, bearly hiding his excitment. "They are coming to us instead."
    A collective roar of pleasure erupted. At last St Peacefuls would be able to go through the thrill and educationally fulfilling experience of OFSTED. Something the staff had all been desperately hoping for.
    "There's more," breathed the head , when the cheering finally stopped. " It's not going to be 3 days...they've decided to come for a full week!"
    The staffroom erupted once more. But how would Miss Stickler take this? She was already bitterly disappointed at the cancellation. Would this damage the fantastic relationship they had? Would the joint Christmas party at Moisimans new restaurant be cancelled?

     
  14. cherryaimless

    cherryaimless New commenter

    Having signed the Pozzitificate for Ms Efficient, Miss Stickler made her way back to her room. She could see a shadow ahead of her, leaning backwards against a wall outside a classroom. As she drew closer, she recognised the familiar face of Chantelle Almost-Perfect, a student from out of catchment who had just arrived this year when the standard number for her local school had been massaged to exclude undesirables. Not that Chantelle was an undesirable; it had been most unfortunate that, with the school's approval, she and her family had been on a fact-finding mission for UNICEF when the transition documents were dispatched.
    "Chantelle," said Miss Stickler, softly. "Why are you out of your lesson?"
    "Mr Thrust chucked me out," said Chantelle, abruptly, quite forgetting herself in her obvious distress.
    "Chantelle, is that the correct way to address a teacher? Or indeed, anyone who asks you a question?"
    Miss Stickler motioned for Chantelle to stand up straight.
    "Sorry, Miss Stickler. I'm just...it's just..It's so UNFAIR!!"
    To Miss Stickler's horror, the girl burst into vocal sobs. Her shoulders heaved and she sniffed appallingly loudly.
    "Now, come, come, Chantelle," soothed Miss Stickler, handing Chantelle a freshly-laundered, lace-embroidered handkerchief. "It can't be all bad! Explain, please. Concisely..."
    Chantelle took a huge lungful of air and began her sorry tale.
    "All I said was that if Tracy couldn't remember where the Baltics were then she should jolly well make her parents take her on a fact-finding holiday! Mr Thrust said I was being unfair and asked me to get out."
    "I'm sure Mr Thrust woud have employed alternative vocabulary," said Miss Stickler, secretly shocked that Mr Thrust had seen fit to place a child outside of his immediate jurisdiction.
    "Sorry, Miss Stickler. You're right. He told me to cool off outside for a moment or two and he would talk to me in five minutes when I'd had time to reflect on my comment."
    Chantelle sniffed. Miss Stickler motioned politely for her to use the hanky.
    "And have you reflected? We can't all be as lucky as you to be invited by UNICEF to go on fact-finding missions!"
    Chantelle paused a second, before answering in a considered fashion.
    "Oh, gosh, Miss Stickler, yes, I know. Yes, now you've said that I can see it so clearly. What I said was unjust. Tracy doesn't even have a folding ruler! How could I have been so insensitive!"
    Chantelle was clearly sincerely sorry.
    "When Mr Thrust comes to talk to you, just tell him what you've told me, Chantelle, and all will be well, I'm sure."
    "Yes, Miss Stickler. Thank you. Oh thank you so much!"
    "And Chantelle?"
    "Yes Miss Stickler?"
    "Try not to think of this as a disgrace, but more of a chance to learn more about yourself," advised Miss Stickler, and she carried on back to her classroom, where Amanda and Ryan had made sure everybody had peer assessed someone else's essay.
    "Thank you, Amanda, Ryan," said Miss Stickler.
    "Ready to be formatively assessed by you, Miss Stickler. Everyone's done a final draft," explained Amanda.
    "Thank you again," said Miss Stickler, and she settled down as Year 9 quietly read "War and Peace" to fill the remaining seven minutes of the lesson.
     
  15. Clint Thrust caught a glimpse of his strong jawline reflected in the beautifully French-polished desk behind which he was seated. His lightly tanned face was delightfully complemented by the burnt ochre silk detailing on his academic gown - how fortuitous that St Pendulous, oldest and most prestigious of the Cambridge colleges, allowed its alumni a choice of colours.

    In front of him Harriet Pure, vice-dominatrix of Doily House, was reading her speech on the emancipation of Kenyan slugs to the other UN candidates. Her voice, each syllable hanging in the air like a crystal dragonfly, soared beautifully in the cathedral-like opulence of Great Hall.

    But Clint was not listening to the finely-crafted words, nor the eloquent points of order and firm but caring rebuttals.

    His mind was irresistibly, and perhaps inevitably, drawn towards a certain primary school mistress who, at that very moment (he knew this as he kept an embroidered silk copy of her timetable in his waistcoat pocket) was about to start a lesson in Latin Fencing to her charming Year 4 class.

    He had regretted his sudden departure the previous night as soon as he had turned the ignition key of his vintage Smoothly-Gliding Throbber, the throaty purring of its twin Stromberg carburetors reminding him, in some primordial yet modern way, of the thwish-thwish-thwish of his beloved's courderoy basketweaving skirt.

    His mind was in a tumult. How, he mused, could he have been so foolish? How had he become infatuated with such a lissome beauty before he had discovered an honourable resolution to his dark and shameful dilemma.

    His hand moved to the inside pocket of his cashmere tweed sports jacket.

    Yes, the envelope was still there, the crimson sealing wax still bearing the imprint of the seal that both damned him and offered him his sole chance of redemption.
     
  16. Eliza walked slowly down back to her classroom, pausing only to admire the exquisite landscapes that Mr Rembrandt at Miss Stickler's School had donated last term. Her head buzzing with the excitment of the impeding inspection. As she entered the classroom she smoothed down her hand made silk blouse and reached out for her clinically clean lab coat that hung on the door.
    "The Learning Objective for today chidren, is to be able to give a clear and concise explanation of nuclear fusion." The children looked up and smiled as one. Wayne and Kayleigh, the Science monitors, prepared the experiment.
    The lesson went perfectly as usual. It was hometime, the usual groans rang out as the bell trilled. Eliza led her class out to the playground where mothers and fathers waited eagerly for their offspring. Many handing over a healthy end of day snack as a reward for another good days work.
    Mr.Tidyman, the school caretaker waved cheerily at her as he collected horse chestnuts from under the awesome tree, and distributed them to the ever smiling children. He should have retired last year, but he just couldn't bear to be away from the children. Many of whom called him "Grandad Tidyman"
    Eliza, went back to class once more, finding that Gloria, her TA had already cleared away the experiment and marked all the science books.
    She was free to go. At last, she would be able to share the marvellous news of the inspection with HIM. She shuddered with pleasure. He would be here soon to pick her up in his Smoothly Gliding Throbber. She checked her gucci handbag. Did she have them? Yes. Thank goodness she hand remembered the long velvet evening gloves that Clint had given to her last weekend. He had specifically asked for her to wear them tonight. She stroked them thoughtfully before heading out of the hand made ancient oak doors of the school.
     
  17. Dreft Thrust had always hated his brother. Just because Clint had been born three minutes earlier, Dreft had always felt he was in Clint's shadow. There was none of the mythical bond that twins were supposed to have. They had always fought as children, but now they were adults, there was only a bitter gnawing resentment.

    Ironically, Dreft had always been the cleverer twin - it was Dreft that had invented the solar hovercraft at prep school, Dreft who had transcribed the lost Albinoni harmonica concerto for piano and bar-stool, Dreft who resolved that pesky Middle East conflict.

    And yet it was Clint who stood to inherit the title, the house and the collection of Byzantine pickles.

    The familiar, dark, bubbling rage once again rose to taunt and mock Dreft.

    "Oi, Thrust, come 'ere"

    It was Grunt Knucklebleeder, recently returned from a three-day exclusion for that incident with the gerbil and the guillotine.

    "Yes Grunt?" asked Dreft - he had learned that it never profited to correct the coarse speech patterns of pupils at Pete Doherty Comprehensive, the worst school in Dullbridge.

    "D'ya still want that knife? Me bruvver 'as let me 'ave 'is spare 'un"

    Suddenly, the dark plan that had been formenting in Dreft's for years started to coalesce and take on a sinister but tangible form . . .

    "Soon, dear brother, soon . . ."
     
  18. silkywave

    silkywave Occasional commenter

    As she looked back at the children still playing lacrosse and those quietly filing onto the school bus to a cheery smile from the driver, she reflected that it was still only Tuesday. As her students waved her fondly out of sight, slightly embarrassed because they had loosened their ties a little, she thought how the week seemed to go so slowly! She was hard put to fill the day! So as she thought about the long evening of pleasure ahead of her she wondered if she might have a duvet day tomorrow! No one would mind.
     
  19. Eliza quickened her step. She could see Clint's Throbber in the distance. But who was that sitting beside him? She had dared to dream that today was the day that he would propose. He had certainly murmured about "something special" that he wanted to do tonight. How marvellous a diamond ring would look placed carefully on top of those velvet evening gloves. But no, she must not allow herself to think this way. The excitment of the impeding Ofsted was enough for one day.
    She seemed to recognise the intricate but horrifying tattoo on the back of the bald head of the person sitting next to Clint. Surely it was Grunt Knucklebleeder! Her previous "friend". Grunt was rough and uncouth but he had taught her everything she needed to know about wildflowers, and his knowledge of seventeeth century poetry was truely remarkable. He had awoken something raw and passionate within her. It had ended when she had refused to go to an exhibition of "etchings" that he apparantly kept in his council flat.
    What on earth was he doing in Clints Throbber?
     

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