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Authors: Jane Yeadon
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in the locality, she said, ‘You were quite right, Rosie. What we need is a nice cup of tea so why don’t you come with me and help me make it. Come on and, look, here’s a tissue.’
10
A LEARNING CURVE
We might have one cherub and one kindly angel in our group but that didn’t count for much in the eyes of Miss Jones.
God may well have started as a medical student and with diligence become a doctor, shedding that title on his surgical way to becoming a Mr and eventually jettisoning that for the top job, but Sister Tutors had also taken a difficult route to power. From humble student nurse origins, they qualified to become staff nurses, onwards to ward sisters, then finally back to their original titles but now in charge of nursing destinies.
So, and on God’s behalf, Miss Jones and Mrs Low, a double act running the Preliminary Training School, were about to rule our universe: Mrs Low by saintliness, Miss Jones by quite another method.
Blessed in ignorance, we hung about the classroom, our first day chat enlivening the dull chalk-laden surroundings and making connections with the rest of the students. Isobel, idly manicuring her nails, was already seated whilst Rosie set about organising the rest of us.
Maisie, ignoring the traffic control signals, chose her own spot. ‘This is like school. I’ve always to be near the front so that I can see the blackboard.’ She drummed her fingers on her desk and looked about her. ‘I wonder where the tutors have got to.’
As if on cue, a tall angular figure in bottle green strode into the classroom. ‘Quiet!’
In a missile sort of way, she was impressive.
I hid behind Sheila whilst the rest scuttled to the nearest desk and Isobel put away her nail file.
‘Since you’re new, you might not appreciate how noise carries, but do you realise night staff might be trying to sleep? I could hear you miles away. This class is smaller than usual so I wasn’t expecting it to be twice as noisy.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘I just hope its mind doesn’t match its size. I don’t want a racket like this again. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Miss – er –’
‘Jones!’ It came like a battle cry.
‘I’m your tutor for anatomy and physiology and by the end of three months, I’ll have hopefully instilled in you all there is to know about the human body so that by the time you go into the wards you should at least know how it works properly. Of course and so that I know I’m doing the job properly and you’ve been listening, there’ll be the weekly tests to check your progress. The exam at the end of P.T.S. will prove both your and my worth.’ Her smile was mirthless as she raised her eyebrows. ‘Now! Has anybody any questions?’
Jo raised her hand. ‘What happens if we fail?’
‘That’s it.’ The tone was final. ‘The first three months are crucial and allow us to see if you really are committed, and don’t forget, we’ll be looking at your practical work as well. There’s no point in time being wasted either for you or for us. Nursing is a profession that isn’t worth doing unless it’s taken seriously.’
Apart from the minute niggling sound of Morag worrying her fingers, you could have heard a pin drop.
‘Of course, there is the option of a repeat P.T.S.,’ the tutor said, moving towards a tall thin cupboard. She smoothed her hands on its handle. ‘But we’d have to think about that very carefully because there’s a lot of new recruits eager to take your place. Right! Let’s get started right away.’ She opened the door. ‘This morning, I want you to meet a colleague of mine.’ In a smooth movement, she pulled out a skeleton hanging from an extending rail so that it dangled before us like a puppet.
‘Meet Skellie,’ she said and stroked, twiddled and twirled its long dead bits.
Maisie screamed and Sheila cried, ‘Ma Gode!’
I had never envisaged a real corpse for educational purposes but Sheila with her ashen face closely resembled one. She
10
A LEARNING CURVE
We might have one cherub and one kindly angel in our group but that didn’t count for much in the eyes of Miss Jones.
God may well have started as a medical student and with diligence become a doctor, shedding that title on his surgical way to becoming a Mr and eventually jettisoning that for the top job, but Sister Tutors had also taken a difficult route to power. From humble student nurse origins, they qualified to become staff nurses, onwards to ward sisters, then finally back to their original titles but now in charge of nursing destinies.
So, and on God’s behalf, Miss Jones and Mrs Low, a double act running the Preliminary Training School, were about to rule our universe: Mrs Low by saintliness, Miss Jones by quite another method.
Blessed in ignorance, we hung about the classroom, our first day chat enlivening the dull chalk-laden surroundings and making connections with the rest of the students. Isobel, idly manicuring her nails, was already seated whilst Rosie set about organising the rest of us.
Maisie, ignoring the traffic control signals, chose her own spot. ‘This is like school. I’ve always to be near the front so that I can see the blackboard.’ She drummed her fingers on her desk and looked about her. ‘I wonder where the tutors have got to.’
As if on cue, a tall angular figure in bottle green strode into the classroom. ‘Quiet!’
In a missile sort of way, she was impressive.
I hid behind Sheila whilst the rest scuttled to the nearest desk and Isobel put away her nail file.
‘Since you’re new, you might not appreciate how noise carries, but do you realise night staff might be trying to sleep? I could hear you miles away. This class is smaller than usual so I wasn’t expecting it to be twice as noisy.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘I just hope its mind doesn’t match its size. I don’t want a racket like this again. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Miss – er –’
‘Jones!’ It came like a battle cry.
‘I’m your tutor for anatomy and physiology and by the end of three months, I’ll have hopefully instilled in you all there is to know about the human body so that by the time you go into the wards you should at least know how it works properly. Of course and so that I know I’m doing the job properly and you’ve been listening, there’ll be the weekly tests to check your progress. The exam at the end of P.T.S. will prove both your and my worth.’ Her smile was mirthless as she raised her eyebrows. ‘Now! Has anybody any questions?’
Jo raised her hand. ‘What happens if we fail?’
‘That’s it.’ The tone was final. ‘The first three months are crucial and allow us to see if you really are committed, and don’t forget, we’ll be looking at your practical work as well. There’s no point in time being wasted either for you or for us. Nursing is a profession that isn’t worth doing unless it’s taken seriously.’
Apart from the minute niggling sound of Morag worrying her fingers, you could have heard a pin drop.
‘Of course, there is the option of a repeat P.T.S.,’ the tutor said, moving towards a tall thin cupboard. She smoothed her hands on its handle. ‘But we’d have to think about that very carefully because there’s a lot of new recruits eager to take your place. Right! Let’s get started right away.’ She opened the door. ‘This morning, I want you to meet a colleague of mine.’ In a smooth movement, she pulled out a skeleton hanging from an extending rail so that it dangled before us like a puppet.
‘Meet Skellie,’ she said and stroked, twiddled and twirled its long dead bits.
Maisie screamed and Sheila cried, ‘Ma Gode!’
I had never envisaged a real corpse for educational purposes but Sheila with her ashen face closely resembled one. She
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