Posts tagged ‘Sheila MacKintosh’

April 29th, 2012

Jane’s Choice

Facing a visit to the headmistress’s study, Jane is offered support by a friendly teacher.

By Sheila MacKintosh

Jane Pearson was always a quiet girl. Slim, pretty in an ordinary way, her medium brown hair usually fastened back in a ponytail, not good at games; it wasn’t that Jane was unpopular, it was just that few seemed to notice her. Miss Clarke was different though. Miss Clarke recognised Jane’s undoubted talent at Mathematics and Physics, subjects they both enjoyed and excelled in, one as pupil and the other as teacher.

It wasn’t surprising, then, that Miss Clarke was the one to spot Jane was quieter than usual. Nor, considering their good relationship, was it surprising that Miss Clarke should call Jane to her desk at the end of the double Physics lesson, as all the others filed out of the classroom and on to their afternoon break.
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April 19th, 2012

Mr Lewis Steps In

A girl is caught shoplifting and her teacher helps her out of a predicament

By Sheila MacKintosh

“Is everything okay, Fiona?”

I’d gathered my books together pretty quickly but even so half the class were already through the door and most of the other half were pushing in front of me despite my wanting to be away promptly. I’d decided to take the long way home through the woods to give me time on my own to think and try and work something out, however impossible that seemed.

“Fiona?”

“Eh? Oh, sorry sir.” So deep was I in my thoughts, I’d completely failed to hear my form master, Mr Lewis, trying to attract my attention. I paused by the side of his desk and within moments we were alone in the classroom.
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April 19th, 2012

Camilla’s Story

A schoolgirl seeks the help of her form master – with painful consequences!

By Sheila MacKintosh

It was a warm spring day which made it feel especially perilous loitering in the cloakroom since virtually none of us had brought coats. The school seemed to take forever to clear, although when I finally left the cloakroom it was still only twelve minutes past four.

I peered round the corner and saw the corridor was empty. However hard I tried to walk quietly, my shoes seemed to make an awfully loud clicking sound on the hard concrete floor and I was sure I would be discovered at any moment. Nonetheless, I made it safely up to the first floor and hovered outside Mr Peters’ door. I read and re-read the little sign that said ‘D. Peters – Senior Form Master’ over and over again before finally tapping gently on the dark blue painted timber door.
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