The lesson is cruising along on the cusp of Ofsted “unsatis”, after 45 years at this lark, it’s all I can manage. Stress is high. Blood pressure is through the roof. I seem to be reading Of Mice and Men for the trillionth time. I don’t need the book anymore, I know it by heart. Suddenly things go dim, crepuscular. I am bereft of breath. I turn pale, then a bit blue. I pass out across a desk. The reading seems to have ceased.
The few pupils following think I’m enacting Lennie’s death. I’m not. I’m enacting my own – for real.
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