Barmy Blue's Bland Blog

Thomas Mensah, known to you all as Mr Mincer during his brief mentions in my blog. I’ll be brief and this will be the sole subject of today’s entry, no complaints or patches of random insanity. Now that he is gone, I feel that his real name should be used.

Sadly, the subject of today’s entry passed away yesterday afternoon having recovered from cancer (for his privacy still, I shall not tell you what kind. All you need to know was that he was having chemotherapy for it and we were told it was gone.) Unfortunately, it left his immune system very weak. He returned to school for a couple of weeks last term but in the end had to stay at home because of the amount of germs that go around here.
I didn’t know him very well.
He only started teaching me this school year and not for very long because of the chemotherapy. We were all pleased to see him when he came back for the short time that he did.
We were only made aware of this just now in a whole school assembly. We complained about being bundled into the hall and being made to all move up to the front. I was going to the front but I noticed the seats had run out so instead of going back to the others I just stood by the teachers at one of the doors until I had opportunity to move back.
As we were going to the assembly, I did make a remark like “Who died?” I can’t remember it exactly. I guess I was expecting that kind of news. We’ve had it before when peers have been killed in car accidents. Needless to say, despite that, even us hardened 6th formers were shocked. But, what can I say, bad things do happen to good people. I’m not trying to sound insensitive. I’m not sure how I’m trying to sound. I’m not even sure why I’m doing this. It’s highly doubtful that any of you ever even met the man. But I suppose it’s my small way of coping and of acknowledging that the man existed, and he taught us for a while, though not for very long.
But why should I need to cope?
I knew it was possible that he’d die. I didn’t know him that well. I should be able to just brush this kind of thing off, especially after seeing something I loved with all my heart (Henry, my cat of 13+years) die in front of me. But this isn’t about Henry, so I’ll say no more on that subject.
I was feeling…. Well, not exactly as jolly as I was before but kind of…. Oh I don’t know, not sad is what I guess I’m trying to say. I mean I was sad but I still had this jolly mood in the back of my mind. I’m not exactly what I was. Brushing it off I suppose.
We were ordered to leave quietly. I got to the gate. It was still locked. I shook my head, sighed and thought to myself, same old school, no matter what. I went to the front entrance where a receptionist was refusing to let us go until she saw the librarian, who told her that we were supposed to go. That receptionist and the librarian’s assistant just stood there like they were in charge. Like it was a normal day. Like the principal hadn’t gone on about leaving in silence and grieving and all.
When the librarian confirmed that we were supposed to leave, the *****y receptionist still wouldn’t let us use the front exit and insisted that the gate would be unlocked. One of the lower years was clearly upset. You could tell, his face was red. He was taller than her, though I’m not sure how tall compared to me. He just pushed right passed her and left. She dropped her radio. I say serves her right. She wasn’t hurt and his actions were completely understandable. But she called after him none the less, like nothing was wrong with us, like we weren’t just hit on the head with a hammer each.
Seeing this almost shattered my mood. I could feel the lump gathering in my throat. But I never cry in school. I don’t want them to have the satisfaction of seeing. Some children were openly crying. There was a jam by the stairs as those from reception tried to get to the gate and those from the gate tried to get to reception. We were still locked in. I stood to one side until a gap became available. I watched them from the window, like caged animals trying to escape. Some became to clime over the gate, such was their need for escape and distraction. I thought to myself that this school gets more like a prison every day. Then I came and started this.

Well, I said that I would be brief. I guess I lied. If I want to sound all metaphorical (Probably wrong choice of word. Yes, I have a better one now) Philosophical then I could say that doing this was my gate or receptionist.
Perhaps not by tomorrow, because it’s too soon and that’s when I have business in Mr Mensah’s old room with Mr Simons (the Friday teacher who took over from him on Fridays) but perhaps next week the school will settle back down, as it always does. We grieve and then things get back to normal.
I’ve probably missed my bus twice now by doing this, but I felt that it had to be done, now, whilst everything was still fresh.
I’m a seasoned 6th former. Such shocks soon settle quickly.

Bluebiird out.