Henrietta Adams’ reputation preceded her. I was at my last year in the sixth form college when we first met. We were warned by the jungle telegraph that our new head of History was a strict disciplinarian.
I also had a reputation. As I grew older I realised that my wilfulness and disobedience could gain the admiration of my peers and I played regularly to my devoted audience. Miss Adams, however was another matter.
During her first history lesson, I tried my luck and ignored the lecture as I talked to my neighbour. Several times Miss Adams told me to keep quiet and on each occasion I ignored her. Finally her patience snapped and I realised that I had pushed my luck too far. Miss Adams stared across the classroom and our eyes met.
“Jennifer, how many times have I told you about talking in class?”
“I don’t know miss.”
“If you hadn’t been talking, perhaps you would have been able to keep count.” A ripple of sniggers passed through the class. “Quiet.” The giggles ceased as quickly as they began.
“Stand up, Jennifer.” I did as I was told, unaware of what was to come next. I had been expecting a scolding or detention, something like that. “I’m tired of your persistent disobedience and disruptiveness,” Miss Adams was saying. “Are you listening?”
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