My first fire drill
Sincere congratulations to those who manage to make their posts

a)interesting for other people.
b)amusing.

The odds seem stacked against it this week. Again.

I had the opportunity to demonstrate what I would save from a fire in my second week of primary school.
As a five year old, I, naturally, inhabited a blessedly safe and restricted universe. It was, however, the age at which incipient self-awareness first hints that a house-fire would bear small relation to the adventures of Fireman Sam.

It could kill your Mummy and Daddy.

And burn all your toys. Apocalypse.

For our first term at school we were permitted to bring one toy on fridays, for playtime. I habitually brought a white plush pussycat with dangly feet, given to me by my Gran.

With hindsight, I must have failed to take on board some of the more important details patiently explained by Mrs Twaddelle (really) relating to our upcoming first fire-DRILL. The alarm in that school sounded with an monotone

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It made your eyeballs buzz very slightly. It was quite the most frightening noise I'd ever heard. I had never experienced anything so LOUD, so perfectly calculated to make your deepest monkey-brain flap loose in a senseless maelstrom of panic. My palms are sweating now when I think about it.

It went off as we were lining up to be walked, crocodile fashion, to morning assembly. Dumbfounded with terror, I snatched my fluffy cat off the toys and lunch-box table as were were hurried out. She would not burn.

No one noticed me clutching her until we were all lined up for a head-count on the playing field. The older girls tittered. Mrs Twaddelle's face thundered.

We were not returned to our classrooms but marched straight in to have assembly when the drill was completed. I was sternly pulled aside and throughly berated for flaunting the FIRST RULE OF SCHOOL FIRE DRILL:

YOU DON'T BRING ******ANYTHING***** WITH YOU.

Having brought shame on myself, my teacher and my class I was required to stand at the front of the hall, with the cat held in front of me. Primary one sat cross-legged in the first row. I had to stand and *turn around* to face the 300 little girls who were delighting in my first public humiliation*, my back to the teaches on the dais, while I sobbed uncontrollably.

School Motto: The Gateway to Knowledge is Humility.
I never forgot this.

I didn't expect this QOTW to be cathartic. Thank you for reading.

Afraid I can't even give you a 'boom-boom-chh' ending to this tale of infant woes. When I started a real fire in my student kitchen (microwave fish-cakes, don't bother) I couldn't get out at all, never mind bring anything with me. It seems we all underestimate the power of smoke to disorder and disorientate us. When my friend opened the door to the hall and rescued me I thought: Golly, I'm never going to neglect the smoke detector. I was lost in a 7 foot square room. True.


*Post scriptum: Actually not my *first* public humiliation, now that I think about it. Until that's the Question, I'm not telling.
(hahasnakes, Thu 8 May 2008, 22:32, 5 replies)

Primary school teachers
enjoy humiliating you and hate stuffed toys. On my first day of school mine took my cuddly Sweep off me shouting "we do NOT allow toys at school!" and put him on top of the tall cupboard :( I never ever forgave her for that...

Sympathy clicks!
( Maladicta, Thu 8 May 2008, 23:06, closed)

treasure
almost ditto but with a pencil sharpener in the shape of a happy frog. no WAY the fire was getting my happy frog sharpener.
(nck-nck, Fri 9 May 2008, 0:58, closed)

That teacher was just plain cruel
Many times I had children bringing in toys or wearing their favourite shoes (wellies or jellies strangely)/cape/superhero outfit/fairy dress to school and mostly their parents talked them out of it...but sometimes it was left up to me. Being confrontational with anyone, regardless of their age is not my style, so I always told them that their toy/shoes/cape/outfit was lovely and I wished I had one just like that...but it would be terrible if it got ruined here at school, wouldn't it? Maybe it's best if it stays at home then, where it's safe.
Nine times out of ten that worked.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 9 May 2008, 12:54, closed)

I know *exactly* how you feel...
I went back for my Barbie, my new, shiny "Woo, first day at school Barbie". And did I ever get bollocked for it.
And was I ever allowed to forget it? No. That was 18 years ago, and friends from primary are still reminding me of it. Even though most of them wet their pants/cried for mummy/called the teacher mummy at some point.
Bastards.
(sarcasticgirl, Wed 14 May 2008, 16:58, closed)