Cooling caps and Capulets
I was a bit of a shit in school. I wasn’t absolutely awful to the extent of getting suspended or expelled because that is mainly because I’ve always had the gift of the gab and could sweet talk my way out of most situations.
Like a husband that has been caught cheating “I promise, I can change” was one of my most repeated phrases at school.
In year 10 and 11, my mum was having treatment after being diagnosed with Breast Cancer. The whole period of chemotherapy is a bit of a blur to me. I can only really remember a few things from those two years (yay for unhealthy coping mechanisms) but getting kicked out of the majority of my core subjects was one.
I wasn’t stupid at school, I was a solid B student without having to put in any effort. Every single school report I ever had said “I had so much potential but I was too distracting.”
I know that I could have achieved straight A’s, but I was more interested in the sixth formers and MSN.
My English Literature teacher had started off as a substitute teacher at our school. By the time he became permanent - he’d already judged us from how we treated him as a sub, so our class was fucked.
The day he was hired permanently all of my essays went from A/B grades to D. I was called in by the Head of English for a quick discussion about how they didn’t feel I was capable of continuing English Literature, and this time my gift of the gab didn’t help me.
Within a few days, my parents had another letter home saying I was being removed from my class.
Nobody ever really believes the kid that mucks around a bit too much though, but my parents knew I was capable… so for the first time ever, my mum played the cancer card.
When my parents rang the school to say they wanted me to continue the subject, they were invited for a meeting with the headteacher, probably so he could tell my parents in person that I'm a disappointment... but he obviously hadn’t been briefed about my mum having cancer.
But even I was quite shocked when she turned up to school wearing a headscarf.
My English Literature teacher had started off as a substitute teacher at our school. By the time he became permanent - he’d already judged us from how we treated him as a sub, so our class was fucked.
The day he was hired permanently all of my essays went from A/B grades to D. I was called in by the Head of English for a quick discussion about how they didn’t feel I was capable of continuing English Literature, and this time my gift of the gab didn’t help me.
Within a few days, my parents had another letter home saying I was being removed from my class.
Nobody ever really believes the kid that mucks around a bit too much though, but my parents knew I was capable… so for the first time ever, my mum played the cancer card.
When my parents rang the school to say they wanted me to continue the subject, they were invited for a meeting with the headteacher, probably so he could tell my parents in person that I'm a disappointment... but he obviously hadn’t been briefed about my mum having cancer.
But even I was quite shocked when she turned up to school wearing a headscarf.
My mum had been wearing the cooling cap (something that prevents some hair loss) throughout chemotherapy but had lost some hair. My mum’s hair is absolutely amazing though - I’ve never met anyone with such thick, healthy hair - so although she’d lost about 50% of her hair by this point - she now just looked like the rest of us.
But you couldn’t tell if she had any hair or not with the scarf - sneaky Sazzy!
I was already in the office with the Headmaster, who was adamant that I wasn’t clever enough to continue the class, before my parents arrived. My dad shuffled in behind me and then… silence.
The meeting was supposed to be an hour-long but within about 5 minutes, Mr H had decided that I should be able to continue my course and I would be allowed straight back to my lessons.
But that wasn’t quite enough, my mum had plucked up this brand new courage and nobody was going to mess with the Williams crew anymore.
She demanded that all of my previous coursework was remarked and that I was moved English Literature classes because this teacher wasn’t the right fit. I think if my mum had demanded the English teacher was fired he would have been clearing his desk that afternoon. Mr P - you should be counting your lucky stars she felt generous that day.
All of my coursework was re-marked within the next few weeks by an independent teacher and the school admitted it wasn’t fairly marked and all of my coursework went back up to a solid B grade.
The schools I went to never valued creativity and thinking outside of the box. I agree that rules are essential, but I have never shied away from bending them and seeing how I can test them. Although now I’m in a job where if I act up too much I would get fired and not be able to afford my mortgage I definitely bend them less.
I passed the exams, obvs. But more importantly, my mum made a full recovery.
When my mum was first diagnosed I never imagined that we’d ever have used it for our advantage, but sometimes… you have to play the cards you’re dealt.
But you couldn’t tell if she had any hair or not with the scarf - sneaky Sazzy!
I was already in the office with the Headmaster, who was adamant that I wasn’t clever enough to continue the class, before my parents arrived. My dad shuffled in behind me and then… silence.
The meeting was supposed to be an hour-long but within about 5 minutes, Mr H had decided that I should be able to continue my course and I would be allowed straight back to my lessons.
But that wasn’t quite enough, my mum had plucked up this brand new courage and nobody was going to mess with the Williams crew anymore.
She demanded that all of my previous coursework was remarked and that I was moved English Literature classes because this teacher wasn’t the right fit. I think if my mum had demanded the English teacher was fired he would have been clearing his desk that afternoon. Mr P - you should be counting your lucky stars she felt generous that day.
All of my coursework was re-marked within the next few weeks by an independent teacher and the school admitted it wasn’t fairly marked and all of my coursework went back up to a solid B grade.
The schools I went to never valued creativity and thinking outside of the box. I agree that rules are essential, but I have never shied away from bending them and seeing how I can test them. Although now I’m in a job where if I act up too much I would get fired and not be able to afford my mortgage I definitely bend them less.
I passed the exams, obvs. But more importantly, my mum made a full recovery.
When my mum was first diagnosed I never imagined that we’d ever have used it for our advantage, but sometimes… you have to play the cards you’re dealt.
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