School life

It all started when I arrived to school late, on a Monday morning. Whilst I was signing in at Pupil’s Office, the head of Pupil Service, who was called Ms Fella, she complained at me as usual, saying how constantly late I usually am. She went into her office and called a teacher called Mrs Whiteing. As they were talking, I over-heard the conversation, Ms Fella told Mrs Whiteing to bring me to Mr Clifton Goldson. Mr Clifton was a Jamaican. Well at least he told me he was. He always tied a scarf of a shirt over his head. He had a long beard with some strikes of grey hair. Really…if you looked at him, you’ll think he is a ruster. After that as Mrs Whiteing dragged me to Mr Clifton, I asked, “Why am I going to him for”. The response I heard was “Because your lateness is becoming major concern.” Well…fair enough. Mr Clifton was a mentor. The school never told me that they were bringing me to a mentor. I only found out when at the end of my first session, when I had a target sheet it said ‘name’ in caps, and next to it, it had ‘mentor’ in caps as well.

During the first session, he was acting as if he didn’t know me; yet all this time teachers were informing him about me. He tried to pull out very personal information; he spent a long time talking to me about rubbish, which lasted me for a bad three hours. He would ask me questions that were really irrelevant ton ever I had a point that was contrary to what he wanted, he got angry. His mouth shook viciously, his eyes wore wide-open windows; and to me… it seemed like he was to grawling, like a wild animal, instead of talking and not swearing…with his favourite word… ‘bullsh**. And whenever he asks me a question, he doesn’t even give me a time to answer. He explains for another 20 minutes. Then he tells me to be quicker in answering next time.  That very session he tried to squeeze out from me what my dad works for.