Mr Majeika and the School Inspector

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL INSPECTOR

  Humphrey Carpenter was born and educated in Oxford and worked for the BBC before becoming a full-time writer in 1975. He has published award-winning biographies of J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, W. H. Auden, Benjamin Britten, Spike Milligan and others, and is the co-author, with his wife, Mari Prichard, of The Oxford Companion to Children’s Literature. From 1994 to 1996 he directed the Cheltenham Festival of Literature. He has written plays for radio and the theatre, including a dramatization of Gulliver’s Travels (1995), and for many years ran a young people’s drama group, the Mushy Pea Theatre Company. He has two daughters.

  Books by Humphrey Carpenter

  MR MAJEIKA

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE DINNER LADY

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE GHOST TRAIN

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE HAUNTED HOTEL

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE LOST SPELL BOOK

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE MUSIC TEACHER

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL BOOK WEEK

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL CARETAKER

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL INSPECTOR

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL PLAY

  MR MAJEIKA AND THE SCHOOL TRIP

  MR MAJEIKA ON THE INTERNET

  MR MAJEIKA VANISHES

  THE PUFFIN BOOK OF CLASSIC

  CHILDREN’S STORIES (Ed.)

  SHAKESPEARE WITHOUT THE BORING BITS

  MORE SHAKESPEARE WITHOUT THE

  BORING BITS

  HUMPHREY CARPENTER

  Mr Majeika and the School Inspector

  Illustrated by Frank Rodgers

  PUFFIN

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA), Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell,

  Victoria 3124, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

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  New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, Cnr Rosedale and Airborne Roads, Albany, Auckland,

  New Zealand

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  www.penguin.com

  Published in Puffin Books 1993

  Published simultaneously in hardback by Viking

  21

  Text copyright © Humphrey Carpenter, 1993

  Illustrations copyright © Frank Rodgers, 1993

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-0-14-194435-7

  With thanks to the Wolvercote First School for the idea of the lobster

  Contents

  1. It’s not in the book

  2. A fishy business

  3. A model pupil

  1. It’s not in the book

  It was a wet, dreary Monday morning at St Barty’s School. ‘Get out your maths books, everyone,’ said Mr Majeika to Class Three. They all groaned. Having a teacher who’d once been a wizard could be fun sometimes, on days when Mr Majeika forgot he wasn’t supposed to do magic any more, and spells and other odd things happened. But most of the time, nothing strange went on at all, and Mr Majeika just taught the usual boring lessons like every other teacher. Today looked like being that sort of day.

  ‘How do you divide 36 by 7?’ asked Mr Majeika. ‘Does anybody know?’

  Hamish Bigmore, the bad boy of Class Three, put up his hand. ‘That’s easy,’ he sneered. ‘You just use a calculator.’ He took one out of his pocket and pressed the buttons. ‘The answer is –’

  ‘No, no, Hamish,’ sighed Mr Majeika. ‘You’re not supposed to use a calculator. You’re meant to…’ He froze, staring at something at the back of the classroom.

  Everyone turned to see what it was. A face was peering in through the window: a long thin face, with a moustache that

  was dripping wet, because the rain was pouring down hard. ‘How odd,’ said Mr Majeika. He went to the window and opened it. ‘Can I help you?’ he said to the man outside.

  ‘Postlethwaite,’ snapped the man. ‘Inspector of Teachers. From the Government.’ He had an official-looking briefcase under his arm.

  ‘Oh?’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Well, nice to have met you, Mr Postlethwaite. If you don’t mind, I must get on with my lesson. Goodbye.’ He started to shut the window.

  ‘Stop,’ said Mr Postlethwaite, holding up his hand like a policeman directing traffic. ‘Let me in. If door not handy, window will do.’ He spoke in a very dry, clipped voice, as if he did not like wasting words.

  ‘I’d rather you saw Mr Potter, the head teacher, first,’ said Mr Majeika.

  But Mr Postlethwaite had already pushed the window fully open and climbed into the room. ‘First part of Inspection of Teacher now finished,’ he snapped. ‘Time to begin second.’

  ‘W-what was the first part?’ stammered Mr Majeika, very flustered.

  ‘Checking appearance of teacher,’ said Mr Postlethwaite. ‘Is he dressed tidily? Are his shoes polished? Is he wearing any unusual items of clothing.’ He pushed his long thin face towards Mr Majeika, who stepped back in alarm. ‘Have you ever worn any unusual things?’ he snapped.

  ‘I-I used to wear a long pointed hat with peculiar signs on it,’ answered Mr Majeika nervously. ‘But that was when I was a wiz… I mean, before I became a teacher.’

  Mr Postlethwaite opened his briefcase and took out a notebook and pencil. ‘Used to wear a long pointed hat with peculiar signs,’ he repeated, writing in the notebook. ‘One penalty point.’

  ‘What’s a p-penalty p-point?’ asked Mr Majeika anxiously.

  ‘Penalty point is black mark. Get ten and you lose Teacher Licence. Not allowed to teach any more. Thrown out on street.’

  ‘Thrown out on street?’ echoed Mr Majeika, looking rather white.

  Mr Postlethwaite took a large stopwatch from his briefcase. ‘No more time-wasting! Ten minutes gone already. Only twenty left. Got to complete required amount of maths in time.’ He started the stopwatch. It made a bleeping noise every ten seconds.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika in a panic. ‘But I’ve forgotten what we were doing.’

  ‘You told us to divide 36 by 7,’ said Thomas.

  ‘And Hamish Bigmore wanted to do it with a calculator, but you wouldn’t let him, Mr Majeika,’ said Jody.

  ‘I’ve done it without a calculator,’ said Thomas’s twin brother Pete. ‘The answer is –’

  ‘Shut up, cleversticks,’ said Hamish Bigmore, sticking out his tongue at Pete. ‘I bet you didn’t really do it without a calculator. I bet you had one hidden under the table.’

  ‘Hamish Bigmore, be quiet,’ said Mr Majeika.

  ‘Shan’t,’ said Hamish. He threw his maths exercise book at Pete.

  ‘Hamish, if you don’t behave yourself this instant,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘I’ll – I’ll
–’ He stopped. He could think of a lot of

  things to do which would keep Hamish quiet, but none of them was likely to go down well with Mr Postlethwaite.

  ‘Second part of Inspection of Teacher now beginning,’ announced Mr Postlethwaite. ‘Checking ability of teacher to keep order. How does his class behave? Are there any badly behaved girls or boys?’

  ‘Do they get penalty points?’ asked Mr Majeika hopefully.

  ‘Not at all. Teacher gets penalty point for being unable to keep order. Or for using wrong methods to keep order. What are your methods?’ he barked at Mr Majeika.

  ‘My m-methods?’ Mr Majeika scratched his head. ‘Well, it’s a little difficult to explain.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ shouted Hamish Bigmore. ‘When he gets cross with me, he turns me into a frog.’

  In fact this had only happened once, during Mr Majeika’s first term at St Barty’s School, but no one had ever forgotten it, and they were always expecting it to happen again.

  Mr Postlethwaite opened his notebook once more. ‘Keeps order by turning children into frogs,’ he noted. ‘Two penalty points.’

  ‘Two?’ gasped Mr Majeika. ‘I only got one last time.’

  ‘Use of magic by teacher strictly forbidden,’ Mr Postlethwaite snapped. ‘Not in Official Curriculum. Anything not in Official Curriculum carries two penalty points if used or taught by teacher.’

  Mr Majeika looked stunned. ‘Please, what’s an Official – whatever you said?’ he asked.

  Mr Postlethwaite took a big black book out of his briefcase, and held it up for everyone to see. On the front, it said:

  OFFICIAL CURRICULUM

  What Is To Be Taught In Schools As Decided By The People In Charge Nothing Else May Be Taught By Order

  ‘No magic in Official Curriculum,’ he repeated.

  ‘Well, what is in it?’ asked Jody.

  ‘ “What is in it, sir?” ’ said Mr Postlethwaite crossly. ‘Pupils should address Inspector as “sir”. Pupils should also address teacher as “sir”, or, if female, “Miss”. Teachers not being addressed as “sir” or “Miss” earn penalty point.’

  ‘We never call him “sir”,’ laughed Hamish Bigmore, pointing rudely at Mr Majeika. ‘Nobody’s ever called silly old Mr Majeika “sir”.’

  ‘Never been called “sir” by his pupils,’ muttered Mr Postlethwaite, making another note. ‘One more penalty point.’

  Mr Majeika sat down, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ he said. ‘Anyway, you never answered Jody’s question. What is in the Official whatever-it’s-called?’

  ‘The Official Curriculum,’ answered Mr Postlethwaite briskly, ‘consists of items which the People in Charge have decided that schoolchildren must learn.’

  ‘I suppose, sir,’ said Pete to Mr Postlethwaite, ‘that means things like the dates of the kings and queens of England?’

  ‘And knowing your thirteen times table, sir?’ asked Jody.

  Mr Postlethwaite nodded. ‘Exactly. And much more like that. All very hard work. No shirking. No fun. No amusement. Work, work, work.’

  ‘No school trips?’ asked Thomas, forgetting to call Mr Postlethwaite ‘sir’.

  Mr Majeika jumped to his feet. ‘Goodness,’ he said, ‘I’d quite forgotten. I’m taking you all on a trip to Barty Castle today. The bus must be waiting. Come along!’

  Everyone cheered, packed up their things, and hurried out of the classroom, forgetting for the moment all about Mr Postlethwaite. Outside, the weather had cleared, and the sun was beginning to shine.

  Mr Postlethwaite followed Mr Majeika across the playground to the bus, looking very cross. ‘School trips firmly discouraged

  by Official Curriculum,’ he snapped. ‘Penalty points for teachers who arrange trips for fun.’

  ‘Ah, but this isn’t for fun,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘It’s a history lesson.’

  Mr Postlethwaite took out his stopwatch. ‘Nearly forgot,’ he said, ‘Maths lesson not completed. One penalty point.’

  Mr Majeika sighed. ‘How many have I got left before you take away my Teacher Licence?’ he asked.

  ‘Five gone,’ snapped Mr Postlethwaite. ‘Five to go. At this rate,’ he added with a nasty smile, ‘it won’t take you long to lose them.’

  All the way to Barty Castle, Class Three sat gloomily in silence. They were glad to be going on a trip, but the sight of Mr Postlethwaite sitting stiffly next to Mr Majeika at the front of the bus made everyone depressed. Only Hamish Bigmore kept chattering away, in the hope of making Mr Majeika lose his temper and get into more trouble with Mr Postlethwaite.

  He kept saying things like: ‘Please, Mr Majeika, sir, can we have the window open, sir?’ And then a moment later, after it had been opened: ‘Please, Mr Majeika, sir, it’s awfully cold now. Could we have the window shut again, please sir?’

  ‘Do shut up, Hamish,’ whispered Jody. ‘If Mr Majeika loses his Teacher Licence, and isn’t allowed to teach any more, we’re bound to get someone really boring or horrid as our new class teacher.’

  ‘There couldn’t be anyone more boring or horrid than Mr Majeika,’ sneered Hamish, but for the time being he shut up.

  When the bus arrived at Barty Castle, the man who sold the tickets said: ‘You may not want to go inside the Castle today. Something has gone wrong with the electricity, and there’s no heating and no lighting.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Still, as we’ve come all this way, we’d better go in.’ He led Class Three across the drawbridge into the castle, with Mr Postlethwaite following behind.

  They went through a doorway into a dark room with a stone floor and roof. ‘We’ll start our visit here,’ called Mr Majeika to everyone. ‘Gather round and listen.’

  ‘Brr, it’s cold,’ said Jody.

  Mr Postlethwaite took a thermometer out of his briefcase. ‘Temperature only

  three degrees above freezing,’ he said crossly, peering at it. Then he took out the Official Curriculum and read from it: ‘Teachers shall ensure that all places where they teach are properly heated and lit.’ He shut the Official Curriculum. ‘This is not properly heated or lit. One more penalty point.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘I don’t seem to be able to do anything right. We must start our lesson. This castle was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth the First. Does anybody know when she came to the throne?’

  There was silence. Class Three weren’t good at remembering dates.

  Mr Postlethwaite took out his notebook. ‘Teacher has failed to teach dates to children. One penalty –’

  He broke off, because Class Three had suddenly gasped aloud. Then, as one person, they all called out: ‘1558.’

  What had happened was this. Behind Mr Majeika and Mr Postlethwaite was a dark passage. While Mr Postlethwaite had been making his note, the date ‘1558’ had appeared out of nowhere, glowing in mid-air in the darkness.

  ‘Correct,’ called out Mr Majeika.

  Mr Postlethwaite stopped writing in his notebook and looked cross. ‘Teacher seems to have managed to teach one date,’ he muttered.

  ‘And do you know who came to the throne after her?’ called out Mr Majeika.

  Again, the answer appeared in glowing letters in the passage behind Mr Majeika and Mr Postlethwaite. ‘James the First,’ everyone called out.

  ‘In which year?’ asked Mr Majeika.

  Once again, there was the answer, glowing in the dark. ‘1603,’ they shouted.

  Mr Postlethwaite seemed to suspect some sort of trick, for he spun round and looked behind him. But before he could see them, the magical letters had vanished.

  ‘There you are,’ said Mr Majeika cheerily. ‘They really do know their dates. Shall we go further into the castle?’

  He led the way down the dark passage, and soon they emerged into a gallery which looked down into a big hall below. Mr Majeika stood with his back to the railing of the gallery, with Mr Postlethwaite alongside him. ‘Now, everyone,’ M
r Majeika called out, ‘this is the Great Hall. Can anybody tell me what sort of things used to happen here in the old days, when the castle was first built?’

  ‘They used to watch TV,’ giggled Hamish Bigmore.

  Mr Postlethwaite looked pleased. ‘Just as I guessed. Teacher hasn’t taught children anything about historical customs. One p –’ But again he was interrupted, this time by a forest of hands going up.

  ‘Yes, Jody?’ said Mr Majeika, pointing at her.

  ‘They had enormous banquets,’ said Jody, ‘which began with one of the servants carrying in a boar’s head on a big gold dish.’

  ‘And they didn’t have knives and forks,’ said Thomas. ‘They used to eat with their fingers, and throw the bones to the dogs, who lay about on the straw which covered the floor.’

  ‘And sometimes one of the knights challenged another one to a fight, and they had a duel with swords, usually over which of them was going to marry a fair lady,’ said Pete.

  ‘Well done,’ said Mr Majeika.

  ‘It was easy,’ grinned Jody. And so it had been. Behind Mr Majeika and Mr Postlethwaite, in the Great Hall below the gallery, everything Jody, Thomas and Pete were describing had been happening, acted out silently by glowing

  people whom Class Three supposed must be ghosts.

  ‘Now,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘can anyone tell me what happened in this castle during the Civil War, in the seventeenth century?’

  Again, there was a forest of hands, because everyone could clearly see the answer being acted out in front of them. ‘Hamish, you tell us this time,’ said Mr Majeika.

  ‘Well,’ said Hamish, with a wicked grin on his face, ‘there was fighting between two lots of men. One group had long hair and looked silly, and the other had short hair, and looked even sillier.’

  ‘What were they called?’ asked Mr Majeika, and the answer flashed up over the men whom Class Three could see fighting each other in the Great Hall below: ‘Roundheads and Cavaliers.’