Drama Lesson Learned

TedGooda

by TedGooda

Story

I was coming to the end of my secondary teaching exchange in Australia, having spent the best part of a year in a school in Western Victoria. It had been a real year of ‘firsts’: first time of sleeping out in a swag under the stars, a largely unsuccessful attempt to surf, a more triumphant try at rock-climbing, seeing a koala in the wild; the list went on and it was a world away from my real-life job back in Sussex.

On Friday afternoon it was Drama. I had planned a lively lesson with lots of physical activity to end the week. The twelve-year-olds arrived and launched into their teamwork challenges. Jack’s team were in the lead. He looked like one of the robust farming boys who might take days off during sheep-shearing.He’d been kneeling on a chair, but had slipped off during one of the games.

“Miss, it really hurts,” he pointed at his shoulder from his prone position on the floor, not lifting his head.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous – you didn’t fall far!”

Suddenly, Jack’s eyes seemed to fill and he winced in pain.

“But I’ll call for the nurse, just to make sure,” I said, indicating to another boy to run to reception. By the time she arrived just a few moments later, Jack’s face had drained of colour and he was releasing regular, prolonged yells of pain. “Perhaps an ambulance?” I suggested.

I enjoyed the weekend, only giving occasional thought to the little incident that had marred the afternoon. Until I received the summons to the head-teacher’s office on Monday morning. I felt like a pupil myself, accused of some misdemeanour.

“Sit down.I’ve some news and I’m afraid it’s rather unpleasant.” He was smiling sympathetically but his tone did little to alleviate my anxiety. “Jack was air-lifted to the city at around midnight on Friday night. The specialist here in the local hospital could do nothing more for him. They even thought he might lose his arm. His shoulder-ball shattered and pieces of the splintered bone had entered his blood-stream. The prognosis wasn’t good. They had the best people on it though, and with any luck he should regain full use of his arm by next year. Mr and Mrs Wise – Jack’s parents – have requested an interview with you.They could be here in just a few minutes.” He picked up the phone, holding the receiver out as a question mark in the air between us.

“Right.” I gulped as he put the call through. For the first time in nearly a year of being away from home, I felt the isolation of being on the other side of the world, far away from family and loved ones. I was fearful of meeting Jack’s parents. But the ‘interview’ did not go quite as I had expected. I found myself in the bear-like grip of a rough hand-shake.

“I just wanted to say thank you and shake the hand of the teacher who acted so swiftly in helping my son. The surgeons say it was the prompt action of the school which saved my son’s arm. Well done there, girl.”

It was an experience I would never forget. It had certainly been a ‘first’ for my drama teaching, but I couldn’t help wondering who had been given the biggest lesson.

© TedGooda 2021-06-07

Hashtags