Last year my tutor group came 6th in the sports day. There are six groups in the year.
Never mind, I thought, optimistically. There is only one way to go when you start at the bottom. We will do better next year. And this with a group which includes a number of keen footballers in local teams, an eaerly-morning swimmer, a skier who competes for the county and a shotokan karate 2nd dan who has been picked for England already.
I forgot.
In year 8 all the girls refuse to run in front of Boys. They bargain. They plead. And they know a pregnant form teacher does not want to fight this one. And boys forget their PE kits. At least they do in my form. One lad turned up in non-uniform today by mistake as his friend had told him to.
And the swimmer was on holiday.
And as it happens, the other five forms in the year take sport a lot more seriously than we do. While my form ate ice-creams and ignored the school’s bid to become ‘healthy eating’ the rest warmed up and cheered each other on.
Which is a shame, because at the end of the afternoon we learnt that we had not improved on our position in the tables.
I won’t be at next year’s sports day, so I am not inclined to ‘do better’ any more. I may buy sweets for those who gallantly took part, however. I am convinced sport is bad for one’s health.
jam and giraffes 