'The New Masters'

The letter from the Ministry was perturbing. Herbal tea flowed hotly in the staffroom along with most available beverages. The sweet smell of smoking pipes was in strong evidence too. Mr Holroyd drew on his pipe although he did not light it always. The Dundee cake was drawn and quartered. Miss Marriott continued her sewing while Miss Harper sipped her cup of tea thoughtfully over the newspaper headlines. Mrs Johnstone rose before them and waited for silence. ‘Thank you. I have had word from the Ministry apropos our future: the future of the school,’ she began. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the nineteen-forty-four Education Act beckons. We are to become a secondary modern by order of the Ministry.’ Miss Marriott stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea; she rarely did so on account of rationing. ‘This school cannot possibly accept such wholesale change or reorganisation,’ a bemused mathematics master protested from his armchair. ‘It sounds rather exciting,’ smiled Miss Harper, ‘perhaps it is the fresh start we require.’ ‘The pupils’ welfare is our concern. If the Ministry is proposing anything rash we should make it plain,’ said Mrs Johnstone. ‘They can’t hope to get away with it,’ the mathematics master persisted, ‘it’s a hare-brained scheme if ever I saw one.’ He started to wring his hands together. Miss Marriott supped her tea thoughtfully as though she was trying to hide behind the teacup. Perhaps she was half-hatching a plot behind it to undermine the new plans of the Ministry. Her round steel-rimmed spectacles masked a keen eye. ‘I remind you all,’ Mrs Johnstone intervened, ‘we should support the proposals or not according to their merits.’ Perhaps Miss Marriott had realised the futility of the present situation. ‘But the Ministry’s instructions must be followed,’ she offered, munching a scone, ‘what else can we do?’ ‘Are we going to resist the sweep of change on a mere whim?’ Miss Harper said, ‘the plans ought to receive our due consideration at least.’ ‘I doubt the Ministry can simply ignore our feelings,’ said Mrs Johnstone, ‘a child’s education is not some game of roulette: that’s the way it was before the war.’ Miss Harper drank a great swig of tea from an elegant teacup. ‘None of us wishes a return to those days, of course. The plans from the Ministry will take us far beyond what is passed,’ she said. ‘No cause to overreact. I’m sure the Ministry knows what they’re about,’ said Mr Holroyd drawing on his pipe, ‘the Ministry won’t come here to lay down the law: if they do so they shan’t get far.’ ‘The business of the school is now my priority. The Ministry can wait: the pupils themselves cannot,’ Mrs Johnstone said. ‘What will you tell them?’ Mr Holroyd enquired. ‘I’ll ask the Ministry to wait,’ Mrs Johnstone replied, ‘we will do likewise.’