Monday is staff meeting evening at my school. Monday is purposefully chosen because it is a shitty day anyhow. Not climb up a clock tower and sing Boomtown Rats songs shitty. Not that shitty. But everyone still hates Monday. It is a thief that has stolen the weekend away.
Monday isn’t a patch on its better-looking, fun-loving sister; Friday. Friday is the girl everyone wants to know. She is full of anticipation and promises of good things to come. Friday is beautiful but lazy. Friday procrastinates. Friday chucks her dirty knickers at her uglier, hated sister and says, “I will leave that for Monday.”
Monday always cleans up Friday’s mess; the problems left to fester over the weekend. Therefore, I always make Monday the night for staff meetings. It is already loathed.
But there is never a good time for a staff meeting.
I am usually the first to arrive for such gatherings. There are things to be learned just by watching the staff file into the room. There are certain characters which seem to be present at every school where I’ve worked. The names are changed but the character attributes remain the same.
The Elaines
The Elaines are the first to arrive. They are the first to arrive because they do little during the rest of the day and therefore have nothing to delay them getting to the meeting early. They hover near the door, not wanting to be the first into the room because it means they will be alone with the boss. Elaines fear that the boss will then ask them a question which could throw a spotlight on their apathy. When the Elaines finally enter they sit right up against a wall. It forms some strange security blanket.
The Angelas
Next in are The Angelas. They do not pause at the door but rather walk quickly, straight to the front seats right under my nose. Angelas are brown-nosers, apple-polishers; they arrive early to suck up. “You work so hard, we are so lucky to have you.” Angelas have no opinion of their own. If an issue is debated they will turn to all and suggest that ‘We all support the Head.’ Their body language betrays their true intentions as they seek to make eye contact with me whilst saying their piece.
The Melanies
The Melanies enter. They sit together in a block which is fitting because they are blockers. They put up kinaesthetic, physical and metaphorical barriers to anything that is happening. They sit; arms folded and say things like “The old Head would never have done that. That will never work”
The Barbaras
Barbaras will arrive 30 seconds after the meeting starts. Every. Single. Meeting. They have a mug of coffee in one hand. The mug must have a cute kitten or maybe Garfield on it with a slogan along the lines of ‘Hang in There, baby.’ Trailing behind is a long piece of toilet paper stuck to the heel of their shoe. By now all the easily accessible seats have been taken so they have to climb over The Elaines and the tutting Melanies.
The Fionas
Last to arrive are The Fionas. Fionas are from middle or senior management. They mime their apologies as they enter, gesturing they have been taking an important phone call. Fionas need everyone to know they are busy, busy, busy.
There is never a good time for a staff meeting.
All the groups: Fionas, Barbaras, Melanies, Angelas and Elaines always sit together in tribes. It is security, an illustration of their power in numbers. They never mix with other groups but only with their own.
The Staff Meeting begins with what I call Housekeeping. It is all the important news that is too complex to communicate in written memos. This is when I have to pitch the critical stuff that the staff needs to hear. I know their attention spans are limited and I won’t be able to hold their focus for long.
One of the Elaines will be the first to muffle a yawn. This is the signal for another of their number to start staring the clock down, like a dog eyeing a pork chop. A Barbara has started doodling a picture of a flower on her note pad. She continues to add hash mark etches to it for the rest of the meeting.
The Housekeeping session ends with a discussion of what will be the venue for the end of term staff party. Suddenly everyone in the room has perked up to Angela-like levels. It takes 15 minutes to determine we need to find someplace inexpensive (The Melanies want someplace not too inexpensive; it attracts riff-raff and hoodies). Another 10 minutes ascertains that the Elaines want someplace where we can have a dance and The Barbaras want it to be no more than two stops on the train. Half an hour more and we now know that The Angelas want a vegetarian menu and the Fionas are miming that it can’t be on Friday the 22nd.
There is never a good time for a staff meeting.
Sleepy, bleary-eyed, not focussed, The Barbaras are now a million miles away, toying with the handle of their coffee mugs with outstretched index fingers. One of the Elaines thinks I can’t see her texting her boyfriend. The Melanies cross their legs in unison like a line of disapproving Rockettes. The Angelas are writing down every word I say; I trip over one of them, they have pulled their chairs up so close.
It is time to inject a bit of physical activity.
There is an audible gasp as I tell the group to get up and form a group with colleagues not sitting near them. Large sheets of sugar paper, blu-tack and a range of felt tips are distributed as the groups shuffle around the room forming new, uneasy alliances. All are asked to write down their ideas and one of the new group is to volunteer to be the scribe.
One of the group to be a scribe?!! Yeah, right. It is always The Angela of the group who volunteers to be the scribe. She always has that over immaculate handwriting that hasn’t changed since she was 14 years old. She dots every i with a smiley face and outlines each suggestion in a cloud. She can’t spell very well. She doesn’t want the humiliation of letting me know her secret but equally does not want to let on to the group she has been forced to join. One of the Melanies will take great pleasure in correcting her; “There is a double c in accident.” The embarrassed Angela will laugh it off and say, “I thought it didn’t look right. I have a mental block! What’s wrong with me today?!” as she takes the lid off a different colour marker and crosses out the mistake with precision-like lines.
I stroll around the room as the groups undertake the activity. At least one of the bands has completely disengaged and instead of the task at hand, is discussing who will get voted off Strictly Come Dancing. Another is still arguing about the choice of party venue for the end of term shindig. The doodled flower has now grown a long vine which completely reaches around the margain of the notepad.
There is never a good time for a staff meeting.
One person is asked to report back for the group. A mandatory 30 seconds must pass as all the groups eye each other to see who will go first. Eventually one of The Angelas pipes up (Angelas will always be the spokesperson as well as the scribe).
The group who have carried on discussing the party venue start to panic. They have nothing written down. They choose to report their ideas not second or third, or fourth. Instead they opt for a strategic last and reply with, “We had the same ideas as the other groups.”
Finally, the clock strikes 5 and it is time to wrap it up.
The Elaines are out of the door and into the car park as they ‘don’t get paid after 5pm, you know’.
The Melanies are mumbling something under their breath about the whole session being a waste of time.
The Barbaras are asking everyone what was said as they are sure they missed something; “Was it Chinese Buffet we decided on for the party? I hate Chinese. I am not going if it is Chinese, I am telling you now”
The Angelas are tidying up the sugar paper scribe sheets and lingering, asking if I have lost weight.
The Fionas…The Fionas are gone, in fact I haven’t seen them for half an hour. They force their way through the doors, against the departing tide of colleagues and mime towards heaven that they have been called to some emergency in the main office.
I decide to go straight home.
There is never a good time for a staff meeting.
Keep the Faith,
The Head
