‘Let us never forget what a precious resource we have in our care.’
These were the lines of my second Headteacher, at the time a rather stern and distant-seeming character, but in retrospect, kind and wise. These were typically sparse and carefully chosen words. He actually used them the day after the Beslan massacre, but the years of Beslan, 9/11 and 7/7, through all of which I taught in London, have somehow conflated in my head.
The bus bomb went off less that three miles from my school in Camden. At first, there were mutterings about a power surge, as we will all remember.
Then the calls from my journalist husband began. ‘Don’t let anyone leave the school,’ he advised. ‘It isn’t safe.’ The Head listened carefully to the stream of advice and the gradual piecing together of a picture that would take days and weeks to fully stop feeling like…
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