I taught them to cook vidya4 - Flipbook - Page 8
6
Autumn Term
not I might be mistaken for the school cleaner and may be told to
wash up the coffee cups.
Before we start any cooking, they must obey my chant.
‘Hair, hearings and hands – tie your hair back, and remove all
jewellery except wedding rings. No-one is married, including me,
so bring me your precious things to lock up.’
When my classes find out I’m single, I hear a collective
‘Ah’. Prying into the private life of young teachers is a popular
diversion in most lessons.
‘Have you got a boyfriend, Miss?’
Carol loves gossip – it’s a happy time waster. Carol and Vicky
wander around school as a pair, and I wonder how I’m going to
get them to do any work.
‘Carol, it’s none of your business – aprons on please.’
‘Will you make your own wedding cake? There are cake tins
in the cupboard.’
Carol persists in digging for clues.
‘Class, and that includes you, Carol, let’s see your hands.’
They hold them out for inspection.
‘Vicky – take off the nail varnish – the remover’s in my desk
drawer.’
Vicky tuts with disgust. She’ll pay me back for making this fuss.
Vicky wants to cook and I’m stopping her with my stupid rules.
The class is checked so we can begin. Once they know I mean
business, we speed through the hair, hearings and hands eager
to get on with making something to eat.
The TV cooks of the day never obey my hygiene rules. That
fancy Fanny Cradock sparkles in her diamond necklace and
dangly earrings and even wears an evening dress to cook in. She
pokes long red fingernails into pastries and pies and I cringe at
the thought of spitting out slivers of red varnish if I ever have to
taste her cooking.
One morning, Jim the caretaker is taking down the Housecraft
sign on the outside door of my cookery room.