Page 90 - Herioter 2020
P. 90

MARCH









       The end of                           Two days earlier, the Scottish      emptiness. No-one wanted it to be like
                                                                                this.
                                            Government had announced that
       something                            schools would close that Friday. The   But George Heriot’s School is not an
                                            news had been coming for a long time,
                                                                                island. We could never be immune to
       Let us remember March 2020 like this:   but what about exams, now around   the impact of a pandemic. Even so, for a
       smiling sixth years in the quad and   six weeks away, for S4, S5 and S6   while, coronavirus had been an abstract
       sunshine.                            pupils? I was teaching a Higher English   prospect. Talk of school closures was
       The end of what should have been     class in a turret of the Old Building on   rife, but there was a fevered anticipation
       the penultimate week of Term 2 were   Thursday afternoon as David Swinney,
       days like we had never seen before.   the Education Minister, made an
       To borrow Charles Dickens’ famous    announcement on behalf of the Scottish
       introduction to A Tale of Two Cities: ‘It   Government. Exams had not been
       was the best of times, it was the worst   cancelled in Scotland since they began
       of times.’                           in 1888, not even during the two great
       Behind the grins of those cheery sixth   wars of the 20th century, but 2020
       years was a shuddering anti-climax. For   was an exception. Cancelled. There
       them, it was over – three months too   was a sharp intake of breath, a laugh
       soon. And so June, a month of delicious   of disbelief, a wave of disappointment.
       anticipation and emotion, was distilled   Several girls asked to leave the room.
       into one heady, anarchic, shirt-signing,   There were tears, confusion, and that
       story-swapping, teary morning at the   question over and over again: what
       end of that penultimate week. In truth,   now? I opened my mouth – and closed
       it was all too much. For their own good,   it again. I did not know either. ‘I have
       the entire year group were told to go   my six A’s,’ one boy told me, but there
       home at lunchtime.                   was no joy in his realisation, only an


       88
   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95