Pitter Patter Pitter Patter

Remember those days at school, when at playtime, the bell rang twice instead of it's usual once, and you were confined to the classroom for the 15 minute duration.  

I never understood the looks that Teachers gave when they heard it; never quite understood exactly what Playtime meant to teachers and pupils alike. 

It wasn't that the teachers didn't get their break, of course they did - they headed to the staff room, had their cuppa and their digestive and caught up on the gossip.   The "Prefects", those big "Primary Sevens" came to your classroom to supervise.   

When you were in Primaries 1, 2 and 3, that seemed like a big responsibility and those P7's were old, and mean.   Sitting in your seat, being screamed at if you stepped out of line.  Asking to go to the toilet, and then pleading to go to the toilet. 

Primary four, five and six it became less intimidating for them, more intimidating for the Primary seven.  How did you control a class-full of kids only a year or so younger than you. 

But then the teacher would come back, and there in front of her, would be a class of children full of pent up energy and frustrations.  

Wild and crazy with excitement because that moment of release when the bell rung only once and they were allow to run at top speed into the playground, scream and shout until their hearts were content had been taken from them.  

And so the poor teaching staff had twice the job on their hands, trying to keep them under control and praying that the rain would dry up by lunchtime and let them get rid of the pent up energy.  

Failing that, the pent up remains, and the Scout Leaders get to deal with it in the evening :-)