Leave it to the Caretaker

The staff room at the Academy School had been moved twice in the past ten years. At one time it was adjacent to the Head Teacher’s office which made it convenient for the secretaries, Bursar and Registrar but less so for the teachers whose rooms were at the other end of the building.  

When the Board of Governors introduced a residential program, and the enrollment increased by 30 students, and more administrators were required, the staff room was requisitioned for an office.

The staff room was then moved to an empty space which had previously been used by the science people for storage as they themselves had resettled in the new science-technology center. While the space was adequate, there was a lingering scent of formaldehyde and the faint odor of rotten eggs. Teachers avoided the lounge and took their tea in their own offices. Some of the younger teachers ignored the rules and surreptitiously sipped their morning coffee right in their classrooms.

With no comfortable place to meet, staff morale, friendships, gossip, weekend stories, complaints about the endless paperwork, anecdotes about students, carping about the Inspectors, disparaging comments about pushy parents and every other topic that teachers talk about, went into decline.

Without a proper, convenient staff room, there was no focal point for the teachers. The previous Headteacher held a briefing each Monday morning at 7:45 when he greeted everyone and announced the significant events of the coming week. Although the meeting was very short – everyone stood around with mugs in hand – it created a sense of camaraderie and team work.

Teaching is a lonely business. When the classroom door shuts, it’s you and 25 pupils for the next hour. This lack of a staff room was starting to grate on everyone as a general sense of isolation and abandonment set in. 

The new Headteacher was determined to sort out the problem. She started work well before the autumn term and after she had organized the back-to-school inset training days. She informed the Board of Governors that finding a staff room was one of her top priorities and if there was a generous donor in the community, the extra money could be used to knock out a wall or two or renovate an underused space.

The Board appeared less than enthusiastic about the project in light of the recent raises that everyone had received. The pay scale was now one of the best in the county. One Board member quipped that the teachers should just get on with it and they should be thankful for their jobs.

The Head then pulled together a ‘blue ribbon’ committee of teachers, support staff and a few parent volunteers (the Parents Association was always willing to help). The Head was acutely aware that her own office was huge. There was a large table that could seat 12 people, a long bookcase, a coffee table covered with the school’s new prospectus, several easy chairs and an old, decorative fire place that could no longer be used because of insurance concerns. Her desk was sizeable and the view out of her floor-to-ceiling window looked at the flower gardens. Her office would never do for a staff room, but it caused her some unease before the meeting began.

In order to facilitate conversation, the Head had two pots of tea prepared as well as a plate of biscuits and chocolate digestives. For good measure, she brought out a bottle of sherry. After all, the meeting was being held in the late afternoon and she wanted everyone to relax.

Since her arrival, the Head had sensed there was a very high level of collegiality at the school. However, teachers, level coordinators and academic department chairs were very territorial and she knew in advance that no one group would be willing to sacrifice space for another.

Right on cue, the teacher representing the primary years suggested that the old lecture hall, used by the senior school, be refitted for a spacious lounge. She pointed out that secondary teachers had their own classrooms, offices and use of their own library. The lecture hall was basically redundant. 

The secondary representative, one of the ‘old guard’ at the school, replied that the lecture hall was used weekly as a backup instructional space. Additionally, it was a perfect area for the speech and debate team which he supervised on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.  He then contemptuously remarked that there appeared to be a conveniently sited vacant primary classroom that could be put to better use while everyone waited for the enrollment to increase.

Another teacher, third form, mentioned that there seemed to be an extra science lab in secondary. There were specialized labs for biology, chemistry and physics but what exactly was the fourth room used for? There wasn’t even a sign on the door, she quipped.

One of the parents mentioned that the school had two art rooms and two music rooms and that both areas had separate storage rooms. Surely the art materials and musical instruments could be stored in one space?

And, so it went for the full hour. The Head took notes and nodded appreciatively as everyone had an opinion. She tried to stay out of the fray and was determined not to favor one idea or another. At the end of the meeting, the Head said that she would take all the suggestions under advisement and would report back in a few days.

A week later, the problem was unresolved. None of the suggestions really sorted out the staff room issue and, as the Bursar pointed out, any solution would be a classic case of “robbing Peter to pay Paul.” Solve one problem and create another.

At that time, the school employed both a handyman and a caretaker. The handyman was a young chap who was good at fixing plumbing and electrical problems and could even tinker with the new computers when their screens were blinking and nothing else appeared.

The caretaker was an older gentleman who had been at the school for close to 35 years. He looked after the grounds, the playing fields, the big lawn and the kitchen garden behind the lunchroom. The staff called him ‘the ghost’ as he disappeared for days, working somewhere in the sizeable campus but would suddenly appear in the main hall carrying a parcel or two that had been dropped off at the outer gate. Occasionally, he’d help the handyman with a big job.

The caretaker’s base was a shabby, rundown structure known as ‘the garage’, located behind the secondary wing but out of sight of the classrooms. At one time, the school’s large tractor, grass mowers, gardening tools and other implements were stored there. The school had a van that shuttled students to off-campus activities and it was parked there overnight. Long ago, when the school was a country estate, the ‘garage’ had been a barn and there was an empty loft over the parking area. There was also a very small flat, with a kitchenette, toilet and room for a bed. Mr. Porter used it from time to time if there was an evening event at school that went late, and he didn’t want to drive home in the dark.

The caretaker usually dressed in a tweed jacket with a blue sweater underneath. He wore a maroon, club tie. You could easily wonder if he had attended a posh school or perhaps was a member of a hunting club out in the country? He wore rough work pants tucked into his wellies – to keep dry while tending his duties out in the damp, wet weather.

One morning the Head looked up from her papers and saw the caretaker standing at her door.

‘Might you have a moment, Miss?’

‘Come in Mr. Porter – and very nice to see you. What’s on your mind?’

‘It’s none of my business direct but I know the teachers are a bit unsettled.’

‘Well, we haven’t solved the problem of the staff room. We just can’t seem to find a new location without upsetting the proverbial apple cart.’

‘If it’s any consolation, Miss, the staff room issue has been a problem since I came on board many years ago. The Head then, Major Plunkett-Jones, just retired from the Royal Wessex Rifles, was appalled that there was not a comfortable accommodation for the staff. He had a reputation for taking care of his men in the war and he insisted that his teachers be treated as such. He converted the sitting room into a spacious lounge with large windows looking out at the meadows. Tea was served just after school was let out.’

‘How civil,’ said the Head. ‘But what went wrong, do you think?’

‘It was the expansion of the school. Each time the enrollment went up, the staff were moved about. Obviously, the financial health of the school took precedent over the well-being of the staff. I can see the argument, of course. But in the end, you have disgruntled teachers, which acts as a collective brake on the school’s progress.’

‘Miss – if I might – has no one suggested taking a look at the ‘garage’? It’s rather shabby and neglected at the moment but it has great potential. I believe you could renovate the whole thing and make it into a spacious and comfortable place, almost a retreat, for our staff. There would be room enough for tables, chairs, a comfy settee or two, a fridge, maybe a cooker, and quiet areas for these new boxy bits – the computers where teachers could do their preparation. There would be enough space for holiday parties. You could even convert the old hay loft into a small, modern flat for a caretaker. If done correctly, you might attract a family man with small children, after I retire. Wouldn’t that be nice? I dare say, done properly, the Governors might save money if they invest wisely – a matter of short-term pain for long term gain’.

‘Why, Mr. Porter, that’s an intriguing idea. Brilliant, really. Might the Bursar and I come around tomorrow morning to have a look? Then we could invite the committee to do a walk about and have a think. It might just work. Thank you, Mr. Porter. It’s very generous of you to give up your space’.

‘Well, you see, Miss, my mum was a teacher. When I was a lad, she would regale my sister and I with stories of her favorite students, the naughty ones, too, and her workmates. She loved the place, the old grammar school in the village, where she taught for 25 years. She told us that she thanked the good Lord each evening for having the best job in the world. When she retired, the school principal gave her a small certificate of appreciation which she hung in our hallway until she passed. However, it was the stories that she told us that stick in my mind to this day, and the dedication and passion that she felt about teaching.’

‘Well, Mr. Porter, I’m feeling better about things now that we’ve spoken. Imagine the time and effort that has gone into this staff room muddle. By the way, the Governors are meeting tomorrow evening. Would you like to come around and have a chat with them about your thoughts?’.