The Schoolboy

By the end of Michaelmas Term every boy in the first year could do it. They may not have read Lord of the Flies. They may never have heard the term “pecking order”. But given the names of any group of boys in the school they could instantly identify who deferred to whom.

They might not be able to articulate it in those terms. You may have to present it to them in a practical scenario – if Appleton, Playford and Margetts got on the bus together, which of them would take the only vacant seat; or if Graves and Butler confronted each other at the church yard gate, who would stand aside.

But perhaps more important than this, for this life and their next, they would know exactly where they were positioned in the pile, who to avoid eye contact with in the corridor and from whom they could take sweets with impunity.

Such a computation involving a complexity of factors was at once organic and dynamic, subjective and intuitive.  Weighing sporting ability against academic achievement counterbalanced or enhanced by looks, wit and articulacy. The calculation must be fine tuned – ball sports score more highly than track and field; a sharp wit can compensate for quite serious facial flaws. Adjustments are made with age as boys mature. Success – reputed or otherwise – with the opposite sex, dress sense, musical taste and instrumental proficiency come to bear. Brass over woodwind; percussion over strings, the electric guitar trumps all – though a budget brand can be a severe handicap. A little rebellion within reasonable bounds can reinforce a boy’s standing even with the authorities.

What constitutes a serious challenge to the wise and learned and the social scientist may be processed in nanoseconds by an eleven year old with no formal training and with barely 2 months exposure to the population. Such is the effectiveness and efficiency of a selective education system.

From time to time nature throws out one of those creatures – a rogue, a misfit, a runt. Someone who knows neither their own nor anyone else’s place. They even may not know that the structure of which they are a part exists.  These too have their place and importance. Not so much to the elite, but they shore up the lower orders and provide them with the relief and confidence of knowing they are, at least, not at the bottom.

Andy Cook was one of these.

Andy Cook had challenges in every department. He wore spectacles with 1950’s NHS style frames and bulls-eye window lenses.  His granddad trousers were nearly up to his armpits. At 12 years of age his hair was already receding and thin on top. He had “What’s up Doc?” teeth. His left foot was just past ten to the hour, his right at five past. When spoken to he grinned to one side as if sharing a joke with an invisible friend. He lacked basic motor skills and hand-eye co-ordination. He could not catch a ball or throw, let alone fold, a paper plane. His writing was like that of a four year old. The letters strayed above and below the lines and to emphasise a point he would write bigger, just one or two words on a page. He either had a speech impediment or was hiding a golf ball in his mouth. It was discovered early on that he could not properly dress himself. For though his vintage ensemble was in order when he arrived at school, after games his buttons were misaligned, his tie was round his neck in a simple overhand knot, and his laces were trailing behind him undone.

Andy had his own language of guttural sounds. He was an endless source of amusement. Boys drew cartoons of him on the black board. He spent an entire maths lesson bound and gagged under a heap of coats at the back of the class. He walked up and down in front of a wall while boys threw tennis balls at him.

Andy obviously loved it. He loved being the centre of attention. He loved being included. He loved being part of the crowd, one of the boys. After all, we could have ignored him.

People like Andy are the ballast that steadies the ship, the concrete and steel underpinning a great building. Someone has to fulfil that roll affirming and reinforcing the order and symmetry. Andy had meaning and purpose and a place, his place, a unique place in the scheme.

The new teacher was more temporary than new. He was covering for one of the games masters who had been liberally fractured during a rugby match.

He seemed to take a special interest in Andy from the start. He spent time with him at lunch break and after school. The usual stories were cast but no one seriously believed his interest was of that kind. Besides, the teacher was popular with all the boys. He was with it, without pretensions, compared to the other teachers. It was said he had come to teaching from industry. Though still relatively young he had been teaching for several years but had yet to have the freshness and enthusiasm wrung out of him.  There were rumours he had done time at a special school for children with learning disorders developing new techniques and methods to assist them.

First, we noticed a change in Cook’s handwriting. It became vaguely legible and more restrained. Then, when he was not receiving coaching from the new teacher, Cook became markedly less compliant when told to do things by other boys.

Before he left, on the return of the games master, the teacher requested additional time for Cook in the end of term examinations which was, of course, refused. But nothing prepared us for the results or the year rankings. No team goes from being Accrington Stanley applying for reselection to near the top of League One in a season. Neither do boys go from being a D minus student to a B plus in one term. Cook went from absolute bottom of the year to somewhere around the top of the middle order. It was obvious to everyone that there had been foul play.

You have to appreciate the impact this had on the boys on the lower academic rungs. There were some key players here, boys whose overall status was high and well established due to sporting proficiency or character and good looks. For someone of Cook’s standing to, apparently, outclass them at anything was a considerable blow, not just to their morale but to the whole of the status quo. Little squeaks in the pecking order were emboldened and made fun of them – “can’t do better than Cookie, eh?”

Of course there was an enquiry prompted by the complaints of outraged parents. We were not supposed to know what was going on. But Spackman of the lower 3^rd proved to be a steady and reliable source of intelligence. His mother was on the board of governors and discretion was not one of her strengths.  Cook had been interviewed by a panel of teachers and governors about the learning techniques he had used. His parents too were summoned, but they failed to speak up for him, having another son at the school who was, shall we say, in the game, they did not want to jeopardise his position by sticking up for Andy.

There must have been some contention or doubt because Cook was finally cross questioned by the full board of governors. We heard that, uncharacteristically, he put up a robust defence including the fact that he had not taken anything into the exams other than the required equipment. This had been checked by the invigilating staff and none of them had been found to be at fault.

He also had the audacity to ask why - if there were techniques that could help someone like him to read and write more quickly and clearly and to do so much better in exams - the school had not made these available to him before?

The persuasiveness of his defence was minimised because the tension of the situation intensified his stammering. Most of the governors could not understand what he was saying. They thought he was gibbering and this reinforced their view that a person with so many debilitating features could not possibly have done so well in the exams. Though they could not see how he did it, he was suspended for cheating and expelled from the school. 

So order was restored and we all breathed a sigh of relief. We heard that the new teacher sought out Cook and put him in touch with one of those schools he had worked in before. Cook was never going to be a player, his appearance alone put paid to that. He was never going to be anything more than an insignificance in the world. He knew his place, he was happy, he was content. What did that teacher think he was doing raising his expectations, giving him false hope? But it still niggled that we could not see how he managed to swing the exam.