That doesn’t sound like a very good job, does it?
I would not want to be a detention lady.
But maybe that’s not her job? Maybe she just likes being the one to hand out detentions.
Sometimes a lady comes into the classroom, usually just before lunch. She has long dark hair and a piece of paper in her hand, and the green lanyard that all the teachers wear, but I know she isn’t a teacher because she would be teaching, wouldn’t she? Everyone in the room cranes their neck to look at her as she walks in.
‘Hello? Can I help you?’ says the teacher, from the front.
‘Yes,’ The lady pauses to glance at her piece of paper. ‘Is Peter * in this class?’
Peter looks up.
‘Yes,’ he says warily, ‘that’s me.’
‘You’ve got detention in room B:3.02 at lunch.’ The lady raises her eyebrows and looks back at the piece of paper, then leaves.
There is a snigger from the back of the class, from a boy next to Peter.
Peter glares at him and pokes him with a pencil.
‘You started it! Anyway, I’m just glad I’m not the one missing my break.’
Peter growls and starts to sulk, but his mood lifts as the lady reappears and points at the sniggering student.
‘You,’ She says.
The boy stops laughing.
‘You’ve got a detention too. Half an hour after school.’
‘I didn’t do anything!’
Peter nudges him and points to the puddle of slime on the floor.
The detention lady smiles and walks off.
I smile as I pick slime off my ruined jumper.
*I don’t actually know anyone called Peter. I just made it up.