Read Crappily Ever After for Free Online Page B

calling the teachers by their first names and all going out for lunch together. The reality couldn’t have been further from my expectations. It was exactly like school had been, but now the lecturers -good choice of name for them I thought – would inform us that we were supposed to be College, not High School students. Tardiness and bunking off was not acceptable in College. Funny that, my High School teachers used to say the same about not being in Primary School any more. What next? Due to my bad behaviour, my employer saying did I still think I was in College? I really expected people to have stopped bossing me around by the ripe old age of 18, and was most indignant. We had four tortuous weeks of College before our placements began. Did we need to know so much before being let loose on the children of the world? Or perhaps they were so awful that we needed to be educated on how to deal with them before we even met.
     
    The day finally arrived when Miss Smith, the Senior Lecturer, handed out the slips of paper with the name of our nurseries on. Jan leaned forward in her seat and delivered a sharp punch to my shoulder blade. I tutted and turned to glare at her.
    ‘Oi, frizz-head! What nursery you got?’
    ‘Do you really need to punch me to get my attention?’ I scowled.
    Jan ignored me and studied the name of my nursery.
    ‘Hey, Cragtonhill! You got lucky, one of the nicer nurseries, jammy bugger.’
     ‘Oh, great!’ I beamed my relief at her. ‘I was so worried I’d get a rough one where you have to check the kids for knives on the way in. Well, thank God for that.’ I turned back and smiled at my piece of paper. This would be a doddle.                                                                         
    Monday arrived. Placement day one. I waited anxiously at the bus station. It’ll be fine, I reasoned. Jan said it was a nice nursery. All of them are, our lecturer had said. Dundee is a decent city, friendly people. Apart from the dodgy mob of three at college, everyone else had been nice to me. No reason not to believe her. There are one or two places with more ‘challenging’ children, Miss Smith had added cautiously (she did love to do those air inverted commas), but she had given those to the girls with previous childcare experience. I should be safe then; apart from babysitting my cousin Craig, I didn’t have any prior experience. Craig was fairly feisty but nothing three tubes of Smarties and Button Moon on repeat couldn’t control.
     
    My bus arrived. I explained to the driver it was my first day and could he please shout me when we got to Cragtonhill School. He glanced behind me:
    ‘You on your own, are you?’
    I nodded blankly. The driver gave a throaty chortle. ‘No problem, I’ll shout you when we get there.’ He gave another hearty laugh as if he found himself hilarious and shook his head. I walked to the back of the bus. This being my first mistake.
     
    ‘Missus. Oi, Missus. Yeh you, wifie, wi’ the nice hair.’ A snort from the other boy caused me to turn around. ‘You got a smoke we can have?’
    I stare in shock at the two seven-year-old boys on the back seat.
    ‘No! Indeed I do not, and if I did, I certainly wouldn’t give it to two young boys like you.’ Ten minutes pass by ‘til the bus lumbers halfway up a steep hill.                    
     
    ‘Cragtonhill School,’ bellowed the driver, followed by yet another chortle. I get off the bus and walk up the remainder of the hill. Nervous, and now cigarette-less too. Seven- year-olds can be so cruel. Took my two pounds lunch money too, for another pack. It was my fault really; I should have had more than three smokes on me. I walk past a group of teenagers watching a rubbish bin blaze as they discussed possible accelerants for the next one, and into the school. The corridor was long and eerily quiet. The smell of disinfectant and