Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

The silence that fell immediately was beyond explanation. Why did they respect him so much, fear to be caught talking, behaving badly? Tony O'Brien didn't remember their names, for heaven's sake. He barely marked their work, he lost not an hour's sleep over their examination results. Basically he didn't care about them very much. And yet they sought his approval. Aidan couldn't understand it. In sixteen-year-old boys and girls.

You always heard that women were meant to like men who treated them hard. He felt a flicker of relief that Nell had never crossed Tony O'Brien's path. Then it was followed by another flicker, a sense of recognition that somehow Nell had left him long ago.

Aidan Dunne went into the Fourth Years and stood at the door for three minutes until they gradually came to a sort of silence for him.

He thought that Mr. Walsh, the old Principal, may have passed by behind him in the corridor. But he may have imagined it. You always imagined that the Principal was passing by when your class was in disorder. It was something every single teacher he ever met admitted to. Aidan knew that it was a trivial worry. The Principal admired him far too much to care if the Fourth Years were a bit noisier than usual. Aidan was the most responsible teacher in Mountainview. Everyone knew that.

That was the afternoon that Mr. Walsh called him into the Principal's office. He was a man whose retirement could not come quickly enough. Today for the first time there was no small talk.

'You and I feel the same about a lot of things, Aidan.'

'I hope so, Mr. Walsh.'

'Yes, we look at the world from the same viewpoint But it's not enough.'

'I don't know exactly what you mean?' And Aidan spoke only the truth. Was this a philosophical discussion? Was it a warning? A reprimand?

'It's the system, you see. The way they run things. The Principal doesn't have a vote. Sits there like a bloody eunuch, that's what it amounts to.'

'A vote?' Aidan thought he knew where this was going, but decided to pretend not to.

It had been a wrong calculation. It only annoyed the Principal. 'Come on, man, you know what I'm talking about. The job, the job, man.'

'Well, yes.' Aidan now felt foolish.

'I'm a non-voting member of the Board of Management. I don't have a say. If I did you'd be in this job in September. I'd give you a few bits of advice about taking no nonsense from those louts in Fourth Year. But I still think you're the man with the values, and the sense of what's right for a school.'

'Thank you, Mr. Walsh, that's very good to know.'

'Man, will you listen to me before you mouth these things… there's nothing to thank me for. I can't do anything for you, that's what I'm trying to tell you, Aidan.' The elder man looked at him despairingly as if Aidan were some very slow-learning child in First Year.

The look was not unlike the way Nell looked at him sometimes, Aidan realised with a great feeling of sadness. He had been teaching other people's children since he was twenty-two years of age, over twenty-six years now, yet he did not know how to respond to a man who was trying hard to help him; he had only managed to annoy him.

The Principal was looking at him intently. For all that Aidan knew Mr. Walsh might be able to read his thoughts, recognise the realisation that had just sunk into Aidan's brain. 'Come on now, pull yourself together. Don't look so stricken. I might be wrong, I could have it all wrong. I'm an old horse going out to grass, and I suppose I just wanted to cover myself in case it didn't go in your favour.'

Aidan could see that the Principal deeply regretted having spoken at all. 'No, no. I greatly appreciate it, I mean you are very good to tell me where you stand in all this… I mean…' Aidan's voice trickled away.

'It wouldn't be the end of the world you know… suppose you didn't get it.'

'No no, absolutely not.'

'I mean, you're a family man, many compensations. Lots of life going on at home, not wedded to this place like I was for so long.' Mr. Walsh had been a widower for many years, his only son visited him but rarely.

'Utterly right, just as you say,' Aidan said.

'But?' the older man looked kind, approachable.

Aidan spoke slowly. 'You're right, it's not the end of the world, but I suppose I thought… I hoped that it might be a new beginning, liven everything up in my own life. I wouldn't mind the extra hours, I never did. I spend a lot of hours here already. In a way I am a bit like you, you know, wedded to Mountainview.'

'I know you are.' Mr. Walsh was gentle.

'I never found any of it a chore. I like my classes and particularly the Transition Year when you can bring them out of themselves a bit, get to know them, let them think. And I even like the parent teacher evenings which everyone else hates, because I can remember all the kids and… I suppose I like it all except for the politics of it, the sort of jostling for position bit.' Aidan stopped suddenly. He was afraid there would be a break in his voice, and also he realised that his jostling hadn't worked.

Mr. Walsh was silent.

Outside the room were the noises of a school at four thirty in the afternoon. In the distance the sounds of bicycle bells shrilling, doors banging, voices shouting as they ran for the buses in each direction. Soon the sound of the cleaners with their buckets and mops, and the hum of the electric polisher, would be heard. It was so familiar, so safe. And until this moment Aidan had thought that there was a very sporting chance that this would be his.

'I suppose it's Tony O'Brien,' he said in a defeated tone.

'He seems to be the one they want. Nothing definite yet, not till next week, but that's where their thinking lies.'

'I wonder why?' Aidan felt almost dizzy with jealousy and confusion.

'Oh search me, Aidan. The man's not even a practising Catholic. He has the morals of a torn cat. He doesn't love the place, care about it like we do, but they think he's the man for the times that are in it. Tough ways of dealing with tough problems.'

'Like beating an eighteen-year-old boy nearly senseless,' Aidan said.

'Well, they all think that the boy was a drug dealer, and he certainly didn't come anywhere near the school again.'

'You can't run a place like that,' Aidan said.

'You wouldn't and I wouldn't, but our day is over.'

'You're sixty-five, with respect, Mr. Walsh. I am only forty-eight, I didn't think my day was over.'

'And it needn't be, Aidan. That's what I'm telling you. You've got a lovely wife and daughters, a life out there. You should build on all that. Don't let Mountainview become like a mistress to you.'

'You're very kind and I appreciate what you say. No, I'm not just mouthing words. Truly I do appreciate being warned in advance, makes me look less foolish.' And he left the room with a very straight back.

At home he found Nell in her black dress and yellow scarf, the uniform she wore for work in the restaurant.

'But you don't work Monday night,' he cried in dismay.

'They were short-handed, and I thought why not, there's nothing on television,' she said. Then possibly she saw his face. 'There's a nice bit of steak in the fridge,' she said. 'And some of Saturday's potatoes… they'd be grand fried up with an onion. Right?'

'Right,' he said. He wouldn't have told her anyway. Maybe it was better that Nell was going out. 'Are the girls home?' he asked.

'Grania's taken possession of the bathroom. Heavy date tonight, apparently.'

'Anyone we know?' He didn't know why he said it. He could see her irritation.

'How would it be anyone we know?'

'Remember when they were toddlers and we knew all their friends?' Aidan said.

'Yes, and remember too when they kept us awake all night roaring and bawling. I'll be off now.'