My first teacher was called Mrs Pitts. Never was someone so aptly named.She was a miserable soul of a woman, a sergeant major figure determinedto keep us five-year-olds under control.
But I've always been a bit exuberant, sometimes unable to control mylust for life. And on one particular day I remember singing in class atthe top of my voice, probably at some inappropriate moment, like whenthe milk monitors were handing round the freebies.
Mrs Dragon Drawers came storming towards me and yelled in my ear sofiercely I could feel spittle hit my cheek: "Claire, you're not in thisclassroom to enjoy yourself - you're here to learn and if you don't likeit you can take that smiling face of yours outside of this room andstand in the corridor." All my classmates fell silent, as did I,completely mortified. And I didn't laugh in class for a long timeafterwards.
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