The year nine pupils weren't as badly behaved as their reputation suggested. They were moderatly behaved, and mostly kept in check by the ever loud-mouthed Christian, and John realised that he had definitely dealt with worse. At the end of class he felt proud of himself and sat in his chair to watch the pupils leave. Christian walked up to the desk and stared at the door, waiting for the last of his peers to leave. John sat up staright in his chair and adressed him.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Christian?" He asked.

"Well...sir...I...nah, it's fine..." The boy stuttered, having magically lost his voice.

"What's wrong? Is it my class, I have to say I am a little rusty...I'm terribly sorry."

"Nah, sir, it aint you...I...'ave never been good at English, you know. Wot wif Sally being a shite-"

"Christian." John raised his eyebrow.

"I just...don't get it. I need...well 'elp. I mean I like English but, you know, I cannt understand it. You get it?"

"Yes. I understand you. Are you saying you want extra help?"

"But I'll look like a right swot."

"No you won't. It's okay to need a little help, Christian." John looked into his bag. "Now I know I'm new and my ways of teaching are different to what you are used to but you should be okay with this work. Get it back to me as soon as possible please." John handed him the sheets of paper and Chrisitan raked a beefy hand through them.

"Aye. See ya later sir." He shoved the papers in his bag and started for the door. "Will you not tell anyone 'bout this? I've got a reputation to keep up, you know?"

John nodded and Christian left.

John looked over his timetable and saw that he, gladly had a break, so he made for the staffroom. The staffroom was possibly the biggest room in, what John had seen, the whole school. It was light and filled with comfortable couches and coffee makers. There were only a few teachers in the room that were marking last-minute papers. John took his big satchel and sat on a comfortable looking white couch in the corner by himself.

He was sat there for about half an hour until somenbody bothered him. "Watson? John Watson? Is that you?" John looked up from his lesson plan for the year elevens and at the small chubby man that he hardly recongnised. "It's me, Mike."

John felt his face soften when he realised who the stout man in the glasses was. "Oh...wow..." He looked him up and down. "You've...changed...a little." He smiled to himself at the sly dig.

"Unlike you, you old bugger! What are you doing here at St. Baker's? Got lost on your way to the private school?"

"No...I'm the new English teacher here."

"I heard that Sally quit. Poor girl, she didn't last five minutes oh and we all saw it coming. She was in tears; she just couldn't cope, bless her soul. I heard one year seven class locked her in a cupboard and let her out at the end bell. Whether that was true or not..."

"I highly doubt that, Mike, you shouldn't believe everything you hear." John told him.

"I know, I know." Mike shook his head. "God you really haven't changed have you? How's...er...Sarah and you?"

"Oh...we aren't together anymore...She wanted too much and I just wasn't ready."

"My gal wanted the same thing and we were ready to split but then she got pregnant, didn't she? They always know how to tie you down..." Mike paused for a bit. "Not you though! No girl can tie old Watson down, you old rascal."

John smiled nervously. "Sure..." He said.

"Well anyways, we'll have to do some catching up soon anyways I'll see you later. I've got a class of rowdy year seven's to teach...I'll let you know if I survive."