Page 87 of Serenity Falls

I like stacks of notes, curriculums, lesson plans. I like them because I like to dismantle them and reshape them into how I want to teach my class.

‘That is music to these ears,’ Lockhart beams. ‘Shall we?’ He holds out an arm.

We walk down a wide, shiny corridor lined with brightly painted, rainbow-coloured lockers.

‘They used to be grey,’ Lockhart says. ‘But a student suggested we repaint them for Pride month.’

I look around in appreciation. ‘That’s great.’

Lockhart glances at me. ‘Not what you were expecting?’

‘Well,’ I say a little awkwardly, ‘I didn’t really know what to expect.’

Lockhart nods. ‘I think you’ll find we’re very inclusive here in Serenity. Harold Winsom was a keen proponent of diversity and equality.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ I say even as I think the words might carry more weight were they not coming from the middle-aged white man in charge.

It takes us another half an hour to walk around the school. Lockhart takes me through the various departments as well as the cafeteria and gymnasium. Everything is clean, spacious and modern.

‘And this will be your classroom,’ Lockhart says with a flourish.

I stand and take it in for a moment. Tall windows overlook the playing fields outside. The desks and chairs are all shiny and graffiti-free. There’s a projector with a pull-down screen, a sleek flatscreen TV and the walls are lined with bookshelves brimming with books.

‘This is … amazing,’ I stutter.

‘I’m so very glad you like it,’ Lockhart replies.

I walk into the room and place a hand on the teacher’s desk. My desk. Not a scratch, a pen mark, a scuff. I wander over to the bookshelves.

‘We try to ensure every teacher has exactly what they need,’ Lockhart says.

I stare at the books. Back in Manchester I bought a lot of books myself, second hand, to lend to students who wanted to read stuff outside of the curriculum.

Don’t get me wrong – I love Of Mice and Men; there’s some mileage to be got out of understanding Shakespeare, and Dickens is brilliant in his depictions of poverty (and still relevant today). But a lot of school reading material for teens is dry or a bit worthy. If you want young people to get into reading, give them books that make them want to turn the pages.

My personal recommended library included King, James Herbert, Denis Lehane, Margaret Atwood, S. A. Cosby, Toni Morrison, Michael Marshall Smith, Alice Oseman, Angie Thomas, cult classics like Catch-22 and The Dice Man, even some graphic novels. I used to keep them on a table near the door, stacked in haphazard piles, the spines cracked, the pages yellow and water-stained.

I run my hands along the spines of the books here. Unblemished, unbroken. The titles are familiar, some of them. Classics mostly, some newer teen fiction, most of which seems to feature stars, rainbows or flowers on the cover. I take one from the shelves – The Magical Girls’ Bakery – and open it. The pages smell brand new. Like it’s never been read. In fact, all the books here look new. I think about what Lockhart said about ‘constructive positivity’ and I determine to eventually clear out this whole library and replace it with more interesting reading material.

‘Anyhow,’ Lockhart says, checking his watch, ‘we should probably move on. We still have that paperwork to look at.’

‘Sorry. Just a lot to take in.’

‘In a good way, I hope?’

I laugh. ‘You have no idea.’

He beams again. ‘Well, I hope you’ll be very happy teaching here.’

‘I’m sure I will.’

‘Excellent. Onwards then.’ He turns and sets off down the corridor. I follow him.

‘This will be your daughter’s form class,’ Lockhart says as we pass another modern, cheery room. ‘Her teacher will be Mrs Andrews. A lovely lady.’

‘Great.’

‘You can rest assured we’ll do our utmost to make Sadie feel welcome. Any questions she has about anything, just let me know.’