A New Reception Class

Looking through some old writing I came across this short piece from 1994. I'd been working part-time for a while, and trying to turn myself into a writer. I'd just started the novel which became my first book, TROUBLEMAKERS, and my wife, Ellie, had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Then the headteacher of the school where I was working asked me to take on a new Reception class for two terms, and I said yes.

When I saw it just now, I realised that this piece of writing catches something important about the way I felt about my job and the way I approached it.  Here it is.

RECEPTION CLASS 1994

It starts slowly.
There are fifteen children in the morning,
Another fifteen children in the afternoon.
We look after them,
Give them good things to do,
Crack jokes, read stories,
Learn their names.

One at a time,
We put the balls into the air.
By the end of the week,
Thirty balls spinning, flying.
We weave a pattern with our hands and minds
To keep the whole complex tracery of interaction
From ending in a great bouncing
Of very bouncy balls,
Breaking things, rolling everywhere,
Getting lost.

The pattern becomes so complex,
So demanding
That night and day it fills my mind,
Running along beneath everything I do:
Get this done!
Remember that!
Do this!
Until even sleep is exhausting.

Why do I do it?

Because one day, magically,
I will put my hands in my pockets,
Take two steps backwards,
And gaze up in wonder
At the maze of spinning balls
Suspended by their own energy 
And the energy we’ve given them,
Weaving patterns in the air. 

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