Ed arrived at work at precisely 6:15 and glanced at the board that proclaimed the name of his place of employment. He did not look to confirm that he was at Eaton Free Academy School. Instead, he was just confirming that the LCD screen now had the correct sponsor emblazoned across it. Content, he nodded in satisfaction that it now displayed the name of the fast food corporation whose fat-perfumed franchises stood guard across the country as if they were beacons of fun. Overnight, their logo had replaced that of the educational software company whose usefulness had passed as their financial contribution had diminished.
Ed was the teacher at the school, in charge of the learning experienced daily by three hundred pupils. A few years before, he had been top of his cohort during his 2 week training period and was regarded as a safe pair of hands in this key catchment area. It was a marginal constituency, so any failure of attainment could see voters change their preference. That would never do.
Ed fed a white card into the electronic reader and pressed his eye up to the unblinking lens that was set into the wall so he could confirm his identity. The grey metal door swung soundlessly open and Ed walked into the staff area of the school. It was a bare, green room, with a locker and an open doorway as its only features. The size of the staff area was little bigger than a caravan. The room darkened as the door automatically closed after him; no-one else was due to come in as Ed was the only member of staff.
Ed opened the locker which, for legal reasons, was labelled 'Staffroom'. From it he pulled his uniform, a set of grey overalls; the front covered by a crude stencil of a jacket, shirt and tie whilst further embellishment was gained by the unnecessary patches on the elbows. Once prepared for work, he walked through the open doorway into his room.
This was no bigger than a broom cupboard. The wall opposite was covered in screens; some were displaying data and information whilst others were flicking endlessly between a plethora of dark, empty cubicles. Ed sat on a hard, metal chair and glanced over at the Admin Server which purred away unaided to keep the school running smoothly. It was displaying a steady green LED, so all was well. A glance at his watch confirmed to Ed that it was 6:30. The pupils would be arriving.
In his mind's eye, he saw the automated bus turning up outside, the long tunnel connecting to the doors so that the pupils were allowed to walk to the school entrance unmolested. From there, they were funneled off to their individual cubicles, into which they were closed for the day. The video screen now showed an never ending slideshow of pupils, from four years of age upwards, logging in and putting headphones on ready for a day's learning.
The day began for them with audiobooks reciting classic books and poetry from the nineteenth century. Some trusted pupils could select their book from a set list but most were listening to literature pre-selected by the Central EduServer. Occasionally, the most advanced pupils were invited to sample some twentieth century literature and then engage with a voice activated Teachbot so that they could hold its obvious imperfections up for ridicule.
Whilst they listened, pupils were provided with a breakfast courtesy of the new sponsor. These were delivered on a conveyor system that led from the Logistics Area of the school. Ed checked that the timer was on and that the next part of the day would start at seven o'clock. His own breakfast arrived; a plastic tray slid in front of him with a salty meat sandwich and a can of self heating decaffinated cofftea. A bleep from the Admin Server told him that his allotted eight and a quarter minutes had begun; his breakfast had to be finished by then.
As usual, he had fed the empty tray and drained cup into the rubbish chute after a mere seven minutes. Punctuality was a source of pride for Ed. Breakfast was also over for the pupils, who were completing a Hygiene Opportunity by chewing toothbrushes and employing lemon scented wipes. Occasional audio from the younger pupils booths revealed a firm woman's voice repeatedly instructing the occupants through the procedures. Lessons began immediately after. One screen glowed briefly; the warm gold of the OFSTED Server screen confirmed that all was on track with Ed's School.
As Ed carried out a routine check of the lessons on offer, one in particular brought a pang of envy forth from him. The year 5 group had reached a module of British History (a slight misnomer-no other Nation's history was on offer) where they learned about the life of the Great Liberator. Ed yearned to be young enough to experience the thrill of finding out about the Great Liberator's life once more. Indulgently, he patched his audio into the playback. The Admin Server bleeped warningly and he clicked to reassure it that he was carrying out a temporary audio stream check. He just caught a phrase '...Aberdeen in Scotland...' before he had to abort and go back to monitoring everything else.
The session continued in an orderly fashion. The pupils worked dutifully and Ed monitored the local EduServer's automated assessment of the pupils' recent progress based upon recent assignments and quizzes. Thus the time passed until Break. Upon the cessation of their lessons,each pupil stood up and was shepherded automatically through to a circular atrium in the centre of the school. From there, they were allocated fitness machines in yet more booths. Phased release from their learning cubicles ensured no interaction was possible, yet Ed was ever-vigilant, checking that there was 100% observation of the silence rule.
Proof of Ed's status as an Outstanding teacher was affirmed during the next learning session. All had proceeded smoothly until 11:00, barring some unnecessary displays of mild distress from a four year old pupil who was unable to recite the seven times table. Then, out of the blue, a red border began to flash around the monitor screen. Ed looked and saw that a pupil was not working. Instead, the foolish individual was breathing rapidly, its chest heaving. Ed used his five second monitor override button (any longer could be construed as assault) to confirm what he suspected. An asthma attack, a fairly major one at that. He had to act fast.
Bringing up the pupil's record, he noted that this was the third idle period of over 10 seconds this pupil had had over the last term. This contravened the Carer/School Agreement and as such the child could instantly be suspended-permanently. As he had made this decision and acted upon it in less than a minute, this learning session could still be considered Outstanding by the OFSTED server! Ed smiled contentedly as he electronically rubber stamped the process that automatically informed the carers of his decision and let the Department know of the pupil's expulsion. Being thorough, he created a Provisional Court Summons for the carers, due to their imminent contravention of The Enemies of Promise Act. This would be served once they had collected their workshy offspring for medical treatment. The Great Liberator had thought of everything!
Almost as an afterthought, Ed released the pupil's medicine. It gulped down the gaseous drug and then began to wail in distress. Even the most dim-witted child knew what a blank learning screen meant. It meant that the pupil would never receive State Education again. Some might have wondered if this pricked Ed's conscience, but it did not. Why did people, he would have contended, reproduce if they had congenital illnesses? How could a School be cost effective whilst it indulged shirkers and malingerers?
Ed allowed himself to savour a satisfied lunch. It was another salty meat sandwich, this time with cheese. This was washed down by a weak, sweet orange drink; the flavour was reminiscent of fruit.
For seven more hours, the ebb and flow of the day was played out upon the screens before him as the pupils uniformly learned facts and repeated letter sounds. All that he saw pleased Ed. For what was education but an encounter with the established, the assimilation of the approved and the conditioning that allowed conformity?
As the clock ticked towards 7:00, the pupils sat watching the most modern culture available to them in the School. Grainy black and white video was played on their screens as a selection of BBC children's TV shows from the 1960's allowed them a few moments to unwind before the bus home.
By 7:03, they were all gone and the screens in Ed's room became still. He got up and pulled his overalls off and pushed his card in the slot to sign out. He stepped out to the golden light of dusk. A set of straggly clouds plunged into a diminishing Sun. Ed noticed this and wished fervently for the reassuring sterile glow of streetlights that would soon, thankfully, dominate.
He left the School grounds and reflected that his job truly was a vocation.
After all, not everybody would want to do it.
