It feels like home
Today is my first day back to school. Pupils changed a bit. Some of them are grown up, especially the youngest. This wee boy who was smiling at me six months ago and was so cute, so fragile is now a tall teenager, his face covered with spots, frowning at anyone most of the time. This is just the way things should be, the normal process towards adulthood. I know there can be real hardness in those youngsters’ lives, but most of the time their school life is ok. Problems don’t come from school, teachers, or their mates, but from their families, society: all the expectations they’ve got to match. I have never thought things could be that way. When I was a teenager, everything at school was hard, sharp, and the others were hostile and mean. Well, I may have been the hostile one after all. And the process towards adulthood isn’t a smooth one when you don’t know yet where it goes.
“Hi Miss!” I would like to hear « bonjour » one day, just looks like they are learning nothing. The thing is, I’m not sure I’ve convinced them that learning French is useful anyway. So we start over again “Bonjour les enfants” “Bonjour madame”. Ok not bad. I’m showing them pictures of myself at school. “Oh you’re not wearing uniforms!” No we don’t in France. But when you see how short skirts are in this school, you just don’t understand why there is a uniform. Teachers are complaining about those short skirts, and most of them are indeed even shorter than anything I would wear in a club. And those girls are eleven. Maybe in the UK school is a clubbing training for girls? You see them going out half naked even in January in their twenties, but it’s just what they’ve been doing their whole school life.
End of classes for today. “I’m on my way out, see you tomorrow.” I am heading to the next bus stop, I’m going back to Claire’s place. It’s half three, maybe she won’t be at work yet. I’m checking my phone, I’ve got a text. Steven, who wants to have a drink tonight. So weird, he hasn’t been that quick to suggest anything last year. What does he want to see me for? See me as friends? This is something I can’t understand. Have a drink, for the old time’s sake? Please, this is just crazy, what would he like to speak about? The night when, very drunk, I dumped him and told him that I didn’t have time to lose with him? – I always say brilliant things in those cases. Surprisingly enough, I always find the words that hurt. Maybe I am mean after all. – I just don’t get why he wants to see me. And I still don’t have time for this.
The bus arrives in the West End, Glasgow’s coolest part. I get off and soon I’m at Claire’s flat. “Hi Amy how was school?” She is so nice and cheerful. I let her know about the school, the pupils, all those things I’m glad to have back. It feels like home.