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Gossip

There are so many things to remember when you start a new job, but there's one invaluable lesson to be upheld if your job involves going anywhere near a staffroom. It's nothing to do with those old chestnuts of sitting in the wrong chair or using somebody else's coffee cup, milk or fridge space. The lesson that will stand you in good stead is to NEVER say anything to anybody beyond small talk about the weather until you know who hates who, who tells what to who else, who once pissed off somebody else six years ago and has never been forgiven, and so on. In other words, who's bitching for which team.

In fact, discussing the weather can be a useful test of where conversation trickles when your back is turned. You'll know how far your comments go when a kid comes up to tell you that "Mrs X said you're always moaning about the weather". All you have to do then is work out how Mrs X knows when you only told Mr A.

It all seems so innocent when you first start. There are so many names to learn that it really is best to say nothing of any significance about anyone else to anybody at all. Otherwise, it will be an awful stomach-dropping moment when you realise that Miss Mills is actually the mother of that wretch in your Year 9 group, and that she is married to Mr Smythe, who is not related to Mrs Smythe, despite what you saw going on in the science lab on your way to slag off the Year 9 wretch to the head of year, who happens to be Miss Mills' best friend since teacher training college.

Confusing? Oh yes. Particularly if you fall victim of any of the following:

only knowing the first names of some teachers and the surnames of others, and not being able to match up either of these with the sets of initials by which they are known on the edge of the pigeonholes or in the staff handbook;
assuming that teachers who drink tea together like each other;
assuming that teachers who stay huddled in their department's office can bear the sight of each other;
underestimating the length and breadth of the headteacher's network of gossip, which can seem to permeate every social network within the school;
believing that an after school drink will endear you to your colleagues, instead of stigmatising you as you choose to socialise with "that lot", as "that lot" try to fill your mind with the misdemeanours of absent colleagues.

Even when you've been in the school for a couple of years there can be surprises. And they are usually nasty, in the way that exposing yourself as a gossip when you only said one thing to the wrong person once will do. These days I like to think of myself as a sponge, soaking up the remains of the spilt guts that cross my path, but never squeezing them out in public. I do slip up occasionally though, and it's a horrible feeling.

Take this instance filled with obvious name changes and slight scenario alterations. Ms Cheddar and Ms Edam teach in my department. Both have similar experience, both are competent teachers, and both are friendly. Ms Cheddar is a bit more on my wavelength though, and has, at times, divulged information to me which has been useful in my understanding of our particular staffroom politics. One day Ms Cheddar and Ms Edam both go for the same promotion, and Ms Edam is the one to be promoted. Ms Cheddar tastes sour grapes, decides she can no longer work at the school, and fills me in on the extent to which Ms Edam has been kissing butt and manipulating people. I take it with a pinch of salt, but I am later asked by Ms Brie what I think of the promotion situation (along with raised eyebrows, rolling eyes, and the rest). Ms Brie has always been a bit of a gossip, and as such I usually guard my comments well, but for some reason I can't help letting slip that not everyone's pleased, and that I heard that she'd got the promotion because (insert any kind of kissing butt or blackmail story here). Of course, I do precede the statement with that get-out cause of culpability: "apparently...".

The minute I say it, I feel I've let myself down. First of all, although I've heard the rumours, I know it's probably not true, or at least exaggerated. Secondly, I know Ms Brie will tell everyone she meets within the next break what she has heard, and probably embellish it too. Thirdly, I feel a bit scared, because if Ms Cheddar hears what Ms Brie is saying, then she could well know that it came from me. This kind of thing makes me feel about 14 years of age all over again, but maybe working in a school brings you out in a rash of gossip; a result of being in close contact with teenage hormones for too long.

And perhaps there is a reason for all this juvenile behaviour. Ten minute chats about the weather at breaktime aside, contact with colleagues in a school is fleeting. Most of the working day is spent in the company of children, and even if there are other adults in the classroom, perhaps to support children with learning difficulties, there's no time to chat and find out something about their lives.

On the other hand, there are long-standing teachers in my school who are extremely good friends. They car-share, baby-sat for each other once upon a time, meet up in pubs, have dinner at each others' houses, and even end up marrying each other. Maybe it's just a slower process in a school than elsewhere. Or maybe the gossip that divides some of the staff binds others, so that the only thing they have in common is a shared irrational hatred of somebody else, usually middle or senior management. At least, that's what I heard...

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added 22/5/04