Star Teacher by Jack Sheffield

Author:Jack Sheffield
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780593075074
Publisher: Transworld

Chapter Eleven

Driving Ambition

School reopened today following the half-term holiday.

Extract from the Ragley School Logbook:

Monday, 3 March 1986

The season was changing and, in spite of a bitterly cold wind, the first signs of a distant spring crept over the high moors. The raucous calls of curlews announced the end of winter as a pale sun touched the land with warmth and light. It was Monday, 3 March, the first day after the half-term holiday, and I felt a new optimism as I drove out of Kirkby Steepleton. Beneath the frozen earth new life stirred and lifted the spirits of the folk of North Yorkshire – with the exception of Victor Pratt.

He lumbered out of his untidy garage as I pulled up on the forecourt alongside the single pump. ‘Fill her up please, Victor,’ I said, ‘… and how are you?’

Victor’s face was bright red and he wiped his brow with the back of his oil-smeared hand. ‘Ah’m sweatin’ cobs, Mr Sheffield,’ he said. ‘Ah think ah’m comin’ down wi’ summat.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Ah get ’ot when ah bend down an’ dizzy when ah get up,’ he elaborated. ‘Ah don’t know if ah’m comin’ or goin’.’

‘Perhaps you need a pick-me-up from the chemist,’ I suggested, more in hope than expectation.

‘Mebbe so,’ said Victor, brightening up, ‘but first ah’m goin’ t’Ruby’s mother for a bottle of Uncle Billy’s tonic. That’ll put me right.’

‘I could ask Ruby to collect it for you and then I’ll drop it in when I’m passing,’ I said, trying to be helpful.

‘Thanks, Mr Sheffield, but ah’ve got young Kenny Kershaw comin’ to ’old t’fort for me later this morning. ’E’s a good lad and ah’m thinkin’ o’ trainin’ ’im up t’be a mechanic. You’ve got t’give young uns a chance.’

‘Very true,’ I agreed.

‘Ah’ll sithee,’ he said and took out a dirty handkerchief to wipe his brow.

‘Get well soon, Victor,’ I said as he gave me my change.

As I drove away I thought about Victor’s words and the cycle of life in the village. A new generation was finding employment in a difficult world.

Meanwhile, in the High Street, Heathcliffe Earnshaw was finishing his paper round and he gave me a wave as I turned into school. I paused before driving through the school gate. The willow had come back to life on the village green and at the base of its trunk the spears of narcissi were forcing their bullet heads through the dense layer of leaf mould. It was a sight to refresh the soul and I felt encouraged as I drove up the cobbled drive.

Ruby was sweeping the entrance porch and leaned on her broom as I approached.

‘Good morning, Ruby,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

‘Fair t’middlin’,’ she replied.

‘Better weather now,’ I remarked.

‘Mebbe so, Mr Sheffield,’ said Ruby, ‘but on t’news this morning it said we were in for adverb weather conditions … so it dunt look promising.’

‘Oh well, here’s to a good day,’ I said, trying to be cheerful, but Ruby was in one of her sombre moods again.

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