Pandemonium at School

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘We’ve been doing a topic on birds, miss.’

  ‘Have you? That sounds like fun.’

  ‘We’ve done finches and ducks and gulls so far,’ Mark went on, rather listlessly.

  Miss Pandemonium now had her head buried deep inside one of her bags. ‘If you carry on like that,’ a muffled voice said from the bottom of the bag, ‘you should have covered the whole bird kingdom in about two years’ time. Ah, that’s what I was after. Paul, give a sheet of this paper to everyone. Now, who can tell me what origami is?’

  ‘Is she a pop star, miss?’ asked Kerry.

  ‘That’s brilliant! What a wonderful name! Actually origami is a Japanese word and it means the art of folding paper. Paul’s just given you a sheet of origami paper and I want you to fold it into a triangle, like this.’

  Everyone busily folded their sheet. The door whizzed open. ‘Maths?’ inquired Mr Shrapnell, glaring suspiciously.

  ‘Hold up your shapes, Class Three,’ cried Miss Pandemonium. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Triangles!’ shouted the class.

  Mr Shrapnell frowned, growled, shut the door and went away. The children looked at each other and grinned. This was great.

  ‘Now fold here. Bend that tip like so. Good, now squash the square section, turn it over and push in this angle here and there – you have a bird. Easy, wasn’t it?’

  There was a whisper of excitement as Class Three realized what they had just done, but Miss Pandemonium hadn’t finished. ‘Take the legs that are hanging down and pull gently – there!’

  ‘Wow!’ cried Karen. ‘It flaps! It flaps its wings when you pull the legs!’ Thirty-two origami birds were flapping about over the desktops. A rising chorus of bird calls began to fill the classroom. Miss Pandemonium joined in enthusiastically, climbing on to her desk and making her bird dive down.

  ‘I’m a kestrel,’ she cried. ‘Keeaw! Keeeaw! Look out, John, you’ve just laid an egg!’

  John smiled. ‘Are you, sort of, well, mad, miss?’ Violet stood up straight, thought for a moment and then jumped down.

  ‘Quite possibly,’ she told him. He smiled again.

  ‘I thought you were,’ he said happily.

  ‘OK, birds down for a second,’ Miss Pandemonium called. ‘Who can tell me how birds fly?’

  ‘Someone pulls their legs, miss!’ shouted Wayne.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she laughed. She dug into her bag again and pulled out more origami paper. ‘Make a paper dart that will go as far as possible,’ said Miss Pandemonium.

  Lee shifted uneasily. ‘We’re not allowed darts.’

  ‘Has anyone told you not to make paper aeroplanes?’

  ‘Only darts, miss,’ grinned Jackie, hurriedly beginning to fold her paper into a supersonic mach-twelve aeroplane.

  A few minutes later, darts were whizzing around the classroom and Miss Pandemonium called a halt. She took the class through to the hall where there was plenty of room, but throwing them across the hall was not good enough for Miss Pandemonium.

  ‘We need more height. Pull those wall bars out. Seabirds launch themselves off clifftops, so the wall bars can be our cliff. That’s it, smashing! Come on, everyone.’

  Miss Pandemonium clambered up the side of the climbing frame and a host of children swarmed after her, clutching their darts.

  ‘I always wanted to be a seabird when I was small,’ said Violet. ‘I wanted to be an

  albatross. I wish I’d been born an albatross.’

  ‘Did you, miss?’ Theresa looked at her teacher quizzically. Miss Pandemonium seemed ever so strange, but there was something nice and comfortable about her too. Theresa was prompted to say something she had never told anyone. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a rabbit,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh, how lovely! And here we are. Right everybody, one at a time – launch your aeroplanes.’

  One by one the children threw their darts. Some did splendid nosedives straight into the hall floor. Some curved upwards at high speed and then slowly twirled round and round and down. Only two or three actually flew some distance, and as each throw took place it was carefully measured with a long tape.

  Miss Pandemonium had made a dart of her own. It whizzed straight back over her shoulder and crashed into the wall behind. ‘Oh dear, mine’s gone backwards.’ Class Three were laughing.

  ‘Miss Pandemonium! What is all this noise?’ Mr Shrapnell stood at the other end of the hall, glaring angrily at the floor which was covered with darts of all sizes. ‘What on earth is going on here? Children, you know darts are NOT allowed.’

  Miss Pandemonium grabbed a nearby rope and slid down to the bristling Headteacher. ‘Mr Shrapnell, we are making a serious investigation into the nature of flight. How can we do work on Birds without understanding the principle of flight? Look at my one. It’s just flown backwards.’ She thrust the dart into Mr Shrapnell’s hands. ‘Now, can you tell me why it went backwards? Watch.’ She snatched it back, threw it, and once again it vanished over her shoulder. ‘See? I told you so.’

  Mr Shrapnell picked up the dart. He began to smooth one of the wings. ‘I think it’s because the …’ He stopped suddenly and frowned angrily. ‘Miss Pandemonium, this is not on the timetable and I don’t think you should encourage children to –’

  ‘This is Science, isn’t it?’ interrupted Violet, watching the Head with those bright, grey eyes again. ‘I think Julie’s dart has gone the furthest, so she’s won. We’ll go back to class and see if we can discover why her dart worked best. Would you like to come and help, Mr Shrapnell?’

  The Head stepped back in horror and muttered something darkly about far too much work. Miss Pandemonium smiled and took the children back to class. As they went, Rebecca whispered to the others, ‘I hope Miss P stays for ever and ever. She’s brilliant!’

  But Glenn was more thoughtful. ‘She won’t last long. You saw the way Shrapnoodle looked at her. He’s going to get rid of her as soon as possible and then it will be back to the old boring ways. You wait and see.’

  3 To Fly Like A Bird – Almost

  ‘Miss Pandemonium,’ began Mr Shrapnell, pacing back and forth behind his desk. ‘You must understand the importance of rules. The children must do what you tell them to do.’

  Violet smiled. ‘That’s why I’m so pleased, Mr Shrapnell. They’re lovely children and they did exactly as I asked.’

  Mr Shrapnell stopped pacing, stared at the ceiling as if it had just blown a raspberry at him, then turned to the new teacher. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Pandemonium?’

  ‘Please, call me Violet. I was named after the flower you know. Mother always thought of me as a shrinking violet. I can’t imagine why. I’ve always thought of myself as more like a dandelion, although of course that wouldn’t sound quite right would it – Dandelion Pandemonium?’

  ‘Miss Dandymonium!’ yelled the Head. ‘Please pay attention. Are you telling me you actually asked the children to make paper darts, climb the wall bars and fly them across the hall?’

  ‘Yes, of course!’

  ‘But there is nothing on the timetable about using the hall at that time. You were supposed to be doing English.’ Miss Pandemonium gave the Head a curious glance. What a strange person he must be to let life be ruled by a timetable. ‘You were supposed to be doing English. Instead, you asked the children to deliberately break the school rules and fly paper darts round the hall!’

  ‘There wasn’t enough room in class,’ said Miss Pandemonium.

  ‘You asked them to make paper darts! You might just as well have got them making helicopters or something equally stupid!’

  Miss Pandemonium leaped to her feet. ‘Helicopters! Mr Shrapnell, you are so clever. Here am I, sitting right in front of you and thinking what a silly old man you are, going on about paper darts, as if it mattered, and that silly old timetable too! And all the time you were thinking why waste time on darts when you could be making helicopters!’

  ‘But Miss –’ started Mr Shrapnell in horror.
However, Violet Pandemonium was now in full flow, and not to be stopped.

  ‘Of course it will be difficult. Making the rotors won’t be easy, and the flap angle will be vital. Oh Mr Shrapnell, you’ve opened my eyes. Why should we bother with silly old darts when we could really fly? We could really fly!’ she repeated, and almost ran from the Headmaster’s office.

  Mr Shrapnell slumped back. He could not understand how she got away with it. Every time he pointed out what was wrong, it got twisted round until he didn’t know what she would do or say next. What on earth was she up to now? He groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands.

  Out in the secretary’s office, Mrs Bunt heard the groan. She had caught all the conversation before as well. Now she was sitting in front of her typewriter and smiling quietly to herself. All her instincts

  about Miss Pandemonium were proving true, and Mrs Bunt was enjoying every minute of it.

  When the children returned to class after lunch they found Miss Pandemonium up to her knees in a pile of junk and looking very excited. There were bits of balsa wood and thin steel rods. There were wheels, cogs, wires, batteries and bulbs. There were thin sticks, thick sticks and bits of string and tape.

  Mr David’s class stared at the jumble and whispered to each other. Miss Pandemonium suddenly stopped talking to herself and noticed the class for the first time. ‘Ah! There you are! Afternoon, everyone.’

  ‘Good Arf-ter-noon-Miss-Pan-dee –’

  ‘Just call me Superwoman,’ laughed Miss Pandemonium.

  ‘Superwoman?’ giggled Caroline.

  ‘Yes, Superwoman, because this afternoon we are going to fly!’

  ‘FLY!!’ chorused Class Three.

  ‘Exactly. Now, how many of you have a bicycle at school?’

  Several hands went up. Violet counted and nodded at the same time. ‘That’s fine. OK’, if you’ve got a bicycle bring it over to the wall outside the classroom.’

  Cheryl looked at her feet and began to mutter that bikes had to stay in the bike shed at all times. Miss Pandemonium ran a hand through her bird’s nest of hair and fixed Cheryl with a twinkling pair of eyes. ‘My dear, don’t worry. Only a little while ago the Headmaster himself was telling me that children must do exactly as they are told. So, please fetch your bikes over to the wall there. Off you go.’

  The children did not need to be told again and shortly there were nine bicycles propped up against the wall. They looked at them gravely. Kerry spoke up first.

  ‘Please, miss, if we’re going to fly, why do we need bikes?’

  ‘Very good question, Kerry,’ said Miss Pandemonium. ‘Now I shall ask you one. How does Man get himself into the air?’

  ‘He jumps!’ shouted Luke.

  ‘Not quite the answer I expected but yes, he could jump. But how does he manage to stay up there if he wants to?’

  ‘He goes in an aeroplane,’ said John.

  ‘Or a rocket, or a balloon,’ Kelly added.

  ‘Or a helicopter,’ murmured Paul.

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Miss Pandemonium.

  ‘He doesn’t usually go on a bicycle,’ Rebecca pointed out.

  ‘That is where you are quite wrong. What we are going to do is turn those bicycles into helicopters. You will climb on board, pedal quickly and the helicopter rotor blades will turn round and up you will go.’ Miss Pandemonium spoke so confidently she could have persuaded a bumblebee that it could fly to Mars.

  There was a moment’s silence. The whole class looked through the window at the ordinary everyday bicycles leaning against the wall. All at once they gave a yell of delight and dived into the pile of bits and pieces at Miss Pandemonium’s feet, while she called out helpful bits of advice.

  A great noise of hammering and sawing began. Some children got huge sheets of paper and began to draw out strange plans for their flying machine. Miss Pandemonium got so involved in answering questions that she could not sit back and watch. She was soon down on her hands and knees, helping one of the groups sort out a tricky problem with the rear cog and chain on the bicycle wheel.

  Slowly the flying machines began to take shape and the children moved outside to get the rotors fixed. There were some

  difficult problems to overcome and there was glue and tape everywhere. You couldn’t put a foot down anywhere without treading on something which stuck to it for the next ten minutes.

  Five of the children seemed to have somehow got themselves completely tied up with string. It was most strange because all the knots were right behind their backs where they could not possibly have reached for themselves.

  ‘It was Wayne!’ cried Amy ‘He did it on purpose.’

  ‘They were no help. They kept getting in the way. I had to tie them up to keep them out of trouble.’

  ‘I think you can release them now,’ suggested Miss Pandemonium. ‘There, I think we’ve finished. It’s time to put them to the test.’

  The bikes made an odd collection. Everyone had found a different way of fixing the rotors above the pilot’s head. Some had used thin sticks. Others had used wire rods and string. Now the pilots carefully wheeled their helibikes into the playground, the long rotor blades drooping and bouncing gently as they took up position. The rest of the class watched in silence, wondering if their machines would really fly. Even Miss Pandemonium was holding her breath.

  The pilots climbed on to the saddles. One by one, very slowly and carefully they began to pedal round the playground. The rotor blades circled slowly above their heads, making a low whooshing noise as they sliced the air. The pilots strained over the handlebars to get up speed.

  It was hard work pushing those pedals round. They not only drove the rear wheel of the bike but the rotors as well.

  ‘Come on!’ cried Miss Pandemonium. ‘Pedal faster!’ Her words started the rest of the class yelling.

  ‘Faster! Get moving! Come on, Concorde, faster, faster!’

  The poor pilots were puffing and panting. Now they stood hard on the pedals. Sshwish, sshwish went the rotors. Round and round went the helibikes.

  ‘Take care!’ cried Miss Pandemonium. ‘Don’t let your rotor blades touch one another.’

  There were nine very red faces out on the playground. One helibike was almost up in the air. Its front wheel kept lifting from the ground as if it wanted to take off

  but couldn’t quite make it. Unfortunately, having one wheel half off the ground made it difficult to steer and very soon one helibike had got too close to another.

  The blades met. There was a sharp crack and a large bit of rotor went slicing across the playground and smashed against the school wall. The bikes fell sideways and knocked down another two machines. The other helibikes swerved away violently to avoid the pile-up and smashed head-on into each other. Within seconds the playground had become a major disaster area.

  ‘Oh dear,’ murmured Miss Pandemonium, looking anxiously at the pile of wreckage. ‘Is everyone all right?’

  ‘Wow!’ breathed one of the pilots. ‘That was great!’

  A loud voice bellowed across the playground and made everyone (except Miss Pandemonium, of course) freeze on the spot. ‘Miss Pandemonium! What on earth is going on out here?’

  ‘We’ve been making helicopters, Mr Shrapnell.’

  ‘Helicopters? Helicopters! What an utterly ridiculous idea!’

  Violet Pandemonium turned and fixed Mr Shrapnell with a pair of innocent grey eyes. ‘Oh but, Mr Shrapnell, surely you haven’t forgotten? It was your idea!’

  The Headteacher’s jaw dropped open. Once again he was speechless.

  4 The Very Friendly Cake

  Mrs Bunt no longer felt a twinge of fear when she walked through to the Headmaster’s office the next morning. She did not quite know why this was, but she did notice and it sent a little warm glow around her insides. She knew Mr Shrapnell was angry. She realized he might well do one of his volcanic eruptions at any moment, but somehow it no longer worried her. She calmly waited for him to speak, and speak he did.


  ‘It is quite dreadful, Mrs Bunt. Surely you can find someone to replace Miss Pandemonium. She is causing chaos.’

  ‘I shall try, Mr Shrapnell. By the way, how is poor Mr David?’

  ‘I’ve told you before not to call him poor. As far as I understand he is lying in bed with his feet up. He ought to be ashamed of himself. Now, Mrs Bunt, would you please get on the telephone and find someone quiet and sensible instead of that madwoman in Class Three, before she has the whole school falling down round our ears. We must get rid of her as soon as possible.’

  Mrs Bunt had to bite her lips to stop a smile spreading across her face. ‘I shall see what I can do.’

  The sound of a wailing siren came nearer and nearer. A few moments later the ambulance careered down the drive and screeched into the car park. The driver’s door opened and a pile of plastic tubs, bowls, spoons and knives clattered on to the tarmac, closely followed by Miss Pandemonium herself. Her hair looked more like an entire heronry now. She saw Mr Shrapnell watching iron-faced at his window, gave him a massive wave and knocked the wing mirror off the ambulance.

  Mr Shrapnell hurried through to the secretary’s office. ‘Have you got a replacement yet, Mrs Bunt?’ The secretary put one hand over the telephone mouthpiece as if she was talking to someone and shook her head.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Shrapnell. Not yet.’

  The Head grunted and went back to his office. Mrs Bunt put down the phone and giggled. She had no intention of ringing anyone. She felt that Miss Pandemonium was the best thing that had happened to Dullandon Primary School for ages, and she was not going to bring it to an end if she could help it.

  ‘What are we going to do today, miss?’ asked Wayne.

  ‘Help empty my ambulance first of all. Come on everyone.’

  There was a long procession out to the van to help unload. They found it quite fascinating. Violet let them all have a go at making the lights flash and the siren wail. Then Rebecca tried out the stretcher bed. Wayne discovered all the bandages and was all for plastering Rebecca there and then, but Miss Pandemonium said she felt there had been enough tying up the day before.