The shit blog of Paul Chris Jones

I was almost expelled from school at the age of fifteen. It all started during a lesson in an IT lab. With the encouragement of a few "friends", I designed a poster that looked something like this:

I should note that Mr Jackson, a PE teacher, wasn't actually a paedophile (at least, not that I know of). It was just a running joke at the school.

Unfortunately, three other students decided to put up copies around the school. Not surprisingly, we got into trouble, and by the end of the day we had been excluded for the rest of the term (which wasn't really that big of a deal because the end of term was only a few days away).

Meeting with the Board of Governors

The four of us had to attend a meeting with the headteacher, the board of governors, and our parents. The meetings were one student at a time.

My parents and I sat on one side of a table and the headteacher (Mrs Clarke), the deputy headteacher (Mr Oldham) and the board of governors (a few old sad men I'd never seen before) sat on the other.

Mrs Clarke took the lead of the meeting. First, she asked my parents if they were formerly accusing Mr Jackson of paedophilia. "Christ... heavens no!" my parents said, or something to that effect. Mrs Clarke nodded.

Then Mrs Clarke made me read aloud a comic I had drawn a few months earlier. I liked drawing comics. Sometimes teachers confiscated them, as they had with this one, but I had kept drawing them. The particular comic was about Mr Jackson putting up cameras in the boys’ changing room. Mrs Clarke made me explain each panel in excruciating detail, in front of my parents, the headteacher and the board of governors. Unfortunately for me, Mrs Clarke also featured in the comic where she promised to give sexual favours to Mr Jackson. She made me explain this part to her. The conversation went something like this:

Mrs Clarke: "And what does this part mean, when I'm winking at Mr. Jackson?"

Me: "Oh, it just means... it means that you just want to help him, that's all."

Mrs Clarke: "Help him record the boys showering?"

Me: "No! No... help him with... anything in general, really."

Mrs Clarke: "Well to me, this implies that I'm a paedophile too."

Me: "No, no, nothing like that!"

Mrs Clarke: "Hmm."

I still have a copy of this controversial comic. Even now though, twenty years on, I'm not sure it's safe for anyone to see it. I'd probably get in trouble again, this time with the police.

Anyway, here's the comic:

Anyway, back to 2003. Mrs Clarke asked me to explain where I'd gotten such horrendous ideas for a comic. I shrugged and replied. "I don't know. Maybe... Viz magazine. And TV, like South Park."

"You let your 15-year-old son watch something as vile as South Park?" spluttered Mrs Clarke in disbelief to my parents.

After the meeting, my parents and I had to wait outside the room while the governors decided whether to expel me or not. I angrily muttered to my mom, “If they expel me, then I’m going to burn down the school!”

“Shh!” she shushed. “They might hear you!”

The headteacher called me and my parents back into the room. I sat back down, my mom and dad on either side of me.

The headteacher cleared her throat. "We have decided..."

She left a tiny pause for dramatic effect. It was like the pause in Big Brother before they reveal the name of who's getting kicked out this week.

"...not to expel Paul."

Sighs of relief from me and my parents.

"...subject to certain conditions."

She went on to explain that as part of the 'agreement' to allow me to return to school, I had to see a school psychologist.

Also, the headteacher said, "Deciding whether or not to expel Paul was a difficult decision because Paul does not seem to show any remorse for his actions."

"I am sorry for what I did!" I said.

"Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you crying? The other three boys involved in this incident all cried during my meetings with them."

This was a revelation. My schoolmates cried? All the boys at Vesey tried to be macho all the time. I'd remember to tease them about this after I got out of here.

I tried to produce some tears but not to much effect.

As she was explaining this, I was surprised by how calm I felt. I didn't feel sad, sorry or elated. Instead, I was fascinated by the pattern on the table. It looked like this:

I wondered what the hell was wrong with me that I was more interested in the table than the meeting.

So in the end, they didn't expel me, and I wasn't going to burn down the school in any event. I was allowed to stay at the school. I stopped drawing comics and went through the rest of my school life without another significant incident.