Please do not eat (do, say or think anything) in the corridor
The only thing to look at, apart from the immovable and unforgiving metal and wooden benches which have head-butted themselves into the wall, is one small sign. Washed up at high tide on the bare beach of glacial wall. It is an uppercase command which, with insincere politeness, insists: “PLEASE DO NOT EAT IN THE CORRIDORS”. As if this wouldn’t be the last place anyone would want to eat. Or sit. Or say anything. Or think anything. Or be. At Newmarket Academy we are incredibly proud of our students, they make the best of things and can have fun chatting wherever they are, but honestly – this bit of shared space feels more like a holding cell for prisoners waiting to be processed.
Since being put into Special Measures in 2013 everyone has been working incredibly hard to create a school the town can be proud of. We have made ourselves anew: new academy status, some new staff, new systems and procedures, new attitudes, new progress and successes and rewards and smiles. We have tried so hard to improve the physical environment of the school too. And we have succeeded, mostly. Except for this depressing, bare-bones, institutional, mind-numbing DO-NOT-ENJOY-BEING-IN-THIS corridor. Please help. Thanks.
My Year 8s said:
“The unimaginative wall stares as the lifeless children walk past,”
“It’s bland and grey as a dull man’s day,”
“A tedious wall, abandoned while students stare apathetically,”
“Hideous and doomed, I look at it with gloom,”
“A dreary blank canvas, lifeless and dull,”
“As dreary and lifeless as a monotone shadow,”
“As lifeless as a pen without ink,”
“Abandoned and forgotten,”
“A lifeless energy thief,”