Full Marks

Andrew woke with a start and sat bolt upright. He was soaked in perspiration and gasping for breath. He’d been in the middle of a dream about a set of unmarked books. He looked at his bedside clock – six am. What a relief! If he got up straight away he’d have time to mark them and still get to school on time.

Ever since he was a young teacher, he’d taught, on average, eight different classes of at least thirty students in each. This meant, even if he marked each studentl’s work only once a week, over two hundred and fifty exercise books to look at. On top of which there was lesson planning, writing school reports, attending meetings, being observed and inspected, dealing with stroppy teenagers and their stroppy parents, and being made to jump through hoops at the whim of each successive and increasingly batty Education Minister. The work was never ending, especially the marking. He used to say it was like painting the Forth Rail Bridge. Hardly surprising, then, that since an OFSTED inspector had once spotted a rogue unmarked book, Andrew had had recurring dreams about marking.

Neither was it surprising that marking had been a bone of contention in his marriage. Evenings, weekends, and even during the school holidays, while the rest of the family were eating their meals, watching TV or enjoying the sunshine in the garden, Andrew would always seem to be sitting surrounded by piles of exercise books.

Mary, his wife, had drawn the line at the bedroom.  ‘The bedroom is for sleeping, and… well… you know.’ Not that Andrew ever seemed to have the time or energy for intimacy very often. This meant, however, that she’d  usually go up to bed first, give up waiting for Andrew and fall asleep, only to be woken by him creeping into bed at 2 a.m. having stayed downstairs to finish his work.

Andrew’s sudden movement now caused Mary to wake up.

‘What time is it?’ she mumbled.

‘Six’clock.’

‘Oh good.’ she sighed, turning over. ‘Another hour in bed at least.’

‘Sorry, love, got to get up. Got a set of books to mark before school.’

Mary yawned, looked puzzled, then smiled. ‘Andrew, have you been dreaming again?’

Andrew thought for a second. The dream had been so real, making him forget that, worn down by workload, OFSTED, targets, testing, and the constant climate of change, his request for early retirement had at last been granted, and he was now a man of leisure.

‘Sorry, love. I must have been… I’m wide awake now.’

‘So am I!’ said a disgruntled Mary.

‘You stay here and I’ll pop down and put the kettle on. Tell you what - I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.’

Thirty minutes later, Andrew returned with a tray of two plates of egg, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, and tomatoes with orange juice, tea, toast and marmalade.

‘Well, what do you think of that, then, love?’

‘Mmm!’ said Mary, forgetting all about her rude awakening and licking her lips. ‘Full marks! 10 out of 10!’