Restorative Justice...PAH!!

Hello, loyal fans!!

This is Mrs Miggins, speaking to you through the interwebbly ether. I have taken charge of the keyboard today 1) because I have finally passed my Pitman typing course (68 worms per minutes) and 2) because Denise has had a bit of a week and is currently lying motionless on the sofa, a copy of The Writers' and Artists' Yearbook splayed across her face and a mug of ground-up paracetemol and codeine dissolved in neat vodka in her hand. We're not going to disturb her for an hour or four at least. And then I might send Mrs Slocombe in with a pointy stick to see what kind of a mood she's in once the drugs and alcohol have taken hold.

So, the subject for today is 'restorative justice'. No, I've never heard of it either. But apparently it means something along the lines of if someone does something nasty/ bad/ illegal to you/ your property/ your collection of novelty egg cosies, then, instead of that bad, bad person being sent to prison/ beaten roundly with a stick/ fined a huge wodge of cash, you both - victim and perpetrator - get together over a cuppa and cake and a police officer/ headteacher/ other random mediator-type person, and the victim tells the bad, bad person how their bad, bad behaviour made them feel, then the bad, bad person says 'sorry', and the victim says, 'that's okay, just don't do it again, would you like another fairy cake?'

Personally, if Mrs Slocombe pecks me in the head, I find a good peck back twice as hard does the trick and a) is more satisfying b) delivers instant karma and c) saves wasting a lot of cake on a chicken who, quite frankly, should know better than to mess with her elder and better.

But that makes me a vicious despot with not an ounce of compassion in her tastes-like-chicken body. (According to the woolly-minded libertarian pom-pom hat, tank top wearing people who run our schools these days - bring back the Victorians, that's what I say.)

Ah, so now we see where you are heading, I hear you cry. Denise is having another school rant through a poulty-related medium. No, I say. Mrs Pumphrey is the poulty-related medium; I am Mrs Miggins. Pay attention, please.

But you're right about the school theme. Denise came home on, well, even she can't remember what day it was now (but she thinks probably Thursday). One of her Year 8 boys had sworn at her teaching assistant in the lesson previous to the one she was about to teach. The Year 8's arrived, along with the swearee, who, since half way through primary school has been plaguing teachers with his ADHD, ADD, ODD and general refusal to behave in a civilised manner. Even a special needs Womble would be able to see that this lad needs to be educated someone other than mainstream school. He just can't cope with it.

Denise was surprised to see the lad arrive in her class. She thought, because of the swearing, that he'd be being dealt with by someone from the Senior Leader Team. But no. Despite a rumour abounding that he would be collected at some point during the lesson, and despite the fact the teaching assistant was still with the class and feeling very frazzled and understandably upset, the lad remained in the class for the whole lesson, using his mobile phone, swearing, refusing to work, arguing the toss about EVERYTHING. Understandably, the other Year 8's, who are no angels themselves, felt this was unfair. 'If one of us had done that, we'd be sent out,' they said. Denise agreed.

Later, fuelled by the distress from her TA and the whole inappropriateness of it all, Denise fired off a strong and determined e-mail. She used words like 'disappointed' and ' professional' and 'consistency.' She also used the phrase 'P****d off with the whole pathetic set-up,' but deleted it when she edited the draft before sending it off.

Almost immediately came an apology from the Deputy, saying that the lad would not be back in school for the rest of term. Within an hour, the decision was overturned by the Head, with the message that we must make a bigger effort to 'understand' this lad's needs, and employ 'restorative justice.'

Well, that sounds like a load of rubbish to me, and I'm just a chicken.

Oh, hang on, she's stirring. What's that? More vodka? Is that wise? You do remember you don't drink, don't you?

Mrs Pumphreeeeeeeeeeeeey!!!! Top her up, will you? On second thoughts, just leave her the whole bottle and a drinking straw. Shut the door, and we'll come back to check on her later...