“The play’s the thing…”
18 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in Blogroll, Random Musings, Struggling Scribblings, Uncategorized Tags: play, supply teaching, teaching
So, after deciding quite deliberately that I was going to write something every day, I started a play script since it was something I’ve never tried. I know we all have a story inside of us, we all have different ways of telling it, and since the short story angle dried up for me yesterday, I thought I’d venture into the unknown.
I did end up getting very distracted at first. I was contacted by 3 supply agencies about going in for interviews for supply work, which clearly has to be done if I’m going to get a job, earn some money and generally stop being a lay-about. It’s amazing what agencies ask for these days; everyone goes on about doing supply because it’s somehow easier to get into than getting a permanent job, because the maxim, “Anyone can do supply” has somehow become woven into the fabric of what is education. The reality is far from this; it’s not enough to be a qualified teacher who has worked in a school for more than three years, now you have to provide proof that you’re British (something I find quite offensive) proof that you live where you say you do, proof that you’re a real person and not a cyborg and proof that you’ve never hit a child.
The last one is completely understandable, but I don’t see why, just to get day-to-day supply anywhere you have to undergo checks akin to those conducted by MI5 and MI6. I don’t think my brother working for the Ministry of Defence went through such rigorous checks. So the rumour that “Anyone can do supply” is actually quite false; it’s easier to gain employment anywhere than it is in teaching. Understandably schools need to be safe, but considering that the country is apparently “crying out for teachers” it’s not made a simple process.
Anyway after digging out all of my documents, my membership to the union, to the General Teaching Council, proof of address, proof of humanity and other such things, I thought I would be ready to write my script. I thought wrong. Apparently, I have to account for the few months I have been out of work since moving to Leeds, and this needs to be done through a letter from a government agency regarding benefits or through a character reference. Well, this is the part where I kick myself for not applying for Jobseeker’s Allowance since moving to Leeds since January 2010; I’m actually being punished for not taking money and just getting by on what I could with my husband’s help. Furthermore, the issue of a character reference poses a problem, in my time in Leeds, I’ve managed to meet hardly anyone who is not a relative, so aside from my husband and his family, I don’t know many people at all. This is not just to do with me being an anti-social recluse who does not play well with others, but also because I’ve sought employment pretty much everywhere and have not yet managed to gain it – hence I’ve been stuck in the cycle of spending all of my time inside, applying for jobs I’m never going to get.
So I started a play script and did not get further than the opening stage directions and the first three lines of dialogue, but I figure it is better than nothing. I think it’s kind of lame and probably going to be a sorry and clichéd attempt at “Beckettian” postmodern drama; a play where nothing happens but keeps the audience riveted until the very end; except in my case it will probably be a play where nothing happens and makes the audience very bored indeed.
I think sometimes we need to give ourselves time to write very badly and allow ourselves the freedom to made gross and horrendous mistakes. It is only in the world of writing that such horrendous mistakes can be overlooked and accredited to inexperience; which other vocation or profession allows for such a thing without consequences? I can’t think of one. Even teaching, where you would assume there is space to be creative, flourish, fall off the horse and get back on is a harsh mistress, where any mistake, any shortcoming is subject to scrutiny and disciplinary action. Mistakes in writing are the safest mistakes to make.
Without rubbishing it too much, I present the opening of my play script:
Photocopier
ACT ONE
The staffroom is a drab, grey with grey chairs arranged around small grey, plastic coffee tables. Books litter the seating areas and the English department’s “territory” is immediately apparent from the piles of poetry anthologies, exam papers and general teaching paraphernalia.
Garishly bright lights in yellow and orange light the stage, creating a harsh atmosphere of oppression and imprisonment. A set of shelves/trays/pigeon holes are located to the back of the stage, acting as staff trays. A photocopier sits to one side of the seating area, a noticeboard and a table beside it; lit with the same harsh yellow light, it glows ominously, almost pulsating with its own life.
Enter three characters; stage left
TEACHER 1: She’s fucking mental she is.
TEACHER 2: Can you believe there is only one photocopier for all of us? Do you know how many members of staff are in this school?
TEACHER 3: Yeah, I know, it’s ridiculous.
Teacher 1 uses the photocopier and it whirs to life. At the same time, the staffroom starts to fill up with other teachers from different departments. Some file in and sit on the chairs, others go to the trays and check their mail, sorting it, sitting down and generally milling around the room.
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