The legend of Mr Kirk’s shoes

by Simon Collinson

I’ll remember that summer of 2001. I was still teaching at William Jones High. A crumbling, damp and gloomy 1960s built school. It was the final week and things were winding down.

The maths supply teacher, called Mr Riley, had been missing for three weeks. He was last seen running down the High street. Since then not a word had been received about his whereabouts. The Headmaster and the head of maths was frantic, but not as frantic as the Deputy Head who was still feverishly working on next year's timetable. He could not relax until all the different pins had been allotted their correct holes matching subjects, staff and groups across the week.

Many an anguished cry or scream could be heard emanating from the deputy heads room as, once more, all the pins wouldn’t go.

The Fun Day that year had gone ahead as planned. No one wanted a repeat of the “No Fun Day” riots in school after the cancellation of Fun Day in the summer of 93. Everyone looked forward to Fun Day. Even those who regularly played truant came in specially just for that day. There were no lessons. Just fun and games for the whole day.

It was a chance for the staff to relax and put down the whips and chairs, for a day. Some of the staff still had the missing maths supply teacher on their minds. He had lasted four weeks before going missing. That was good. Usually supply teachers at William Jones only lasted a week. A few left after their first lesson.

The place had always been challenging to teach in, but it was becoming worse.

Some of the older staff said, “this place is rockin '”.

It seemed that the walls and windows at William Jones High weren’t the only things falling apart at the seams.

But all that could be forgotten in that last week as staff and pupils counted down the days before being released into the soothing and relaxing arms of summer holidays.

The arrival of Fun Day was the signal that summer’s release wasn’t far away.

Fun Day 2001 had a Barbecue and stalls a plenty. Also there was karaoke. I sang a few Elvis numbers, quite badly. Undoubtedly, the star performer was Jim Kirk. He usually taught Geography. In the Fun Day of 2001 he belted out a Bryan Adams number, “Summer of 69” with gusto and passion.

I think the fact that he was leaving to go to another school meant he could really let go and let his hair down. In the staffroom slang he was “D-mob-happy.”

In the afternoon it was staff versus the older pupils in rounders. And again Jim Kirk enjoyed himself, although his progress around the bases was at times laboured. With many jokes made about his running speed being distinctly warp factor one.

I guess you get a lot of Star Trek jokes if your name is Jim Kirk.

The school trundled onto the last day and finished at lunchtime.

The staff wearily made their way for nibbles and wine in the staff room and listened to the final speeches of those staff who were leaving. It was a final chance to catch up with everyone. Even the deputy head was smiling. The pins had, finally, all aligned correctly on the timetable board for the next academic year.

Jim Kirk made an amusing leaving speech. He was in an ebullient mood. As you would be finally getting away from the place. Maybe that's what Mr Riley had done. Got up and decided he could no longer teach maths anymore, did a runner and never stopped running.

Reported sightings of Mr Riley popped up regularly over the following year.

The cry would go up “Where’s Mr Riley?” and someone would give an update on where Mr Riley could be if he was still running. Sometimes in the most unlikeliest of places before receding into the background as other tales and rumours became prominent.

They added to the myths and legends that had already built up about William Jones High, like the fabled,” Desk of Doom” or the rumour that a female member of staff had posed for an “Adult magazine”, astride a motorbike.

It was a popular belief that Jim Kirk, as he was in the car park for the final time, took off his shoes and flung them up onto the roof of the school. Shouting and yelling abuse at the old grey building, before jumping into his car and riding off into the sunset, quite blissfully shoeless.

Pupils and staff come and go. Legends last a bit longer.

I left a few years later. And a few years after that the old grey, crumbling, damp and gloomy place finally got pulled down.

I was interested to know what the builders found on that roof when they took down the old school building.

Would they find Jim Kirk’s mouldy old shoes?

They found something on the roof.

Only it wasn’t a pair of shoes. 

It was a body!

They’d finally found Mr Riley.