Chapter 40. A Bit of a Problem
Chapter 44. Stupid Old Oakcroft
Chapter 47. A Very Strong Word
Chapter 55. One More One-more Thing
Bracket Wood School had never, since it was opened all the way back in 1983, received an OFFHEAD ranking of Outstanding. Nor had it received one of Good. There was a very brief golden period, in the early 90s, when it received one of Satisfactory. But then that was found to have been a mistake – the inspector had ticked the wrong box, for which he himself got marked down to Not As Good As We Thought – and it went back to its usual ranking: Inadequate.
It was, in fact, a running joke in the OFFHEAD offices – not a place where you’d have thought there’d be much joking, but at least on the subject of Bracket Wood you’d be wrong – that one day they might have to create a new ranking for this particular school: Rubbish.
This was a problem for Bracket Wood because OFFHEAD, as I’m sure you all know, is a government organisation which checks that schools aren’t rubbish. Parents, as you also might know, pay a lot of attention to their reports. Some parents, in fact, spend far too much of their time reading OFFHEAD reports, and discussing them with their friends who are also parents, and worrying all the time about which school to send their children to, based on OFFHEAD reports. Some parents worry about this so much they ruin their child’s childhood. But that’s another story.
This story begins with the staff and governors and parents and even some of the pupils at Bracket Wood in something of a panic. Because OFFHEAD was coming. In a month’s time. Which was even more worrying than usual. For two reasons:
1 Bracket Wood Council, Education Department, had announced, on hearing that OFFHEAD was coming again, that if the school got another Inadequate rating it might be time to think about closing the place down, and …
2 Ryan Ward.
“Right, Six B!” said Mr Barrington, moving the TV monitor into place on top of his desk. “It’s good news. Today we are going to watch a TV For Schools documentary.”
A groan went up from the class.
“Stop groaning!” said Mr Barrington.
Another groan went up from the class.
“I said, stop groaning. I didn’t say groan again.”
“Is it A World Without Lead?” said Barry Bennett.
“No. Although that was very good,” said Mr Barrington, putting the DVD into the player. “Especially the bit showing what a problem that would be for cable sheathing.”
“Not that one about dust! Please!” said Sam Green.
“It Gets Everywhere! you mean? I’ll have you know that won a DAFTA!”
“Do you mean a BAFTA?”
“No, it’s an award from the Dust And Filth Trackers Association.”
“Please not A Shepherd’s World …”
“Just be quiet and turn the lights off, Malcolm Bailey – and don’t tell me you didn’t love the twenty minutes in that documentary about how various types of grass taste to a sheep.”
Malcolm shook his head quite certainly – as if he really knew about that – and turned off the light. A menu appeared on the screen. It showed a large metal bucket. And the words: “How Buckets Are Made”.
“What’s this one about, sir?” said Morris Fawcett, the head teacher’s son, who frankly had little hope of following in his father’s footsteps academically.
“Well, Morris, I’m glad you asked me that. It’s about how— Hold on, are you being sarcastic?”
“I wish he was,” said his twin sister Isla wearily.
“Hmm,”