The school alarm rang at exactly 7.00 a.m. By 7.15 a.m., Lela had not heard any movement from Tom’s room so she rang through. The phone rang and rang, no answer.
“TOM, WAKE UP!!!” she shouted as she banged on his door. Five minutes later, a ghostly figure opened the door, mumbled unintelligibly and turned tail.
“Tom, it’s 7.20, jump in the shower and get dressed. I’ll be in my room getting ready, come and get me when you’re done.”
He somehow managed to find his way to the shower and after running the building dry, he emerged and got dressed.
After dinner, they had had a two-hour video conference with his mother and father and Saki. They had filled them in on everything with the exception of the Yuri saga as there was no need to worry them. They told them about Mr Sakamoto and Tom’s father could not think of a better appointment. His mother asked for a detailed description of all the other students and for a detailed account of the restaurant, its menus and whether they were eating properly. Saki asked whether they felt safe and whether there was anything they needed. Tom and Lela confirmed that they didn’t need anything and that everything was fabulous. They all agreed that the video conference was brilliant and that they should do it at least once a week. In fact, they would do it on the same night the following week and every Monday night thereafter. Donald was made to swear that he would attend the video conference, no matter what.
“Lela?” Tom knocked on her door.
“Yes, come in, the door’s open.”
“Wow,” said Tom. “That’s some outfit! Amazing!”
“Thanks! I saved it for our first proper day.”
“What did your dad think of it?”
“I’m not sure he’s seen this one,” she said with a cheeky grin.
Tom smiled, Saki had definitely not seen that outfit. If he had, it would not be on the island nor anywhere near Lela’s wardrobe.
“Now, I, as the male representative of our family, should ask you to change but seeing that it’s our first day and you look amazing, I’ll overlook it on this occasion.”
“That’s very kind of you, thank-you. You look pretty hmm interesting in an un-matching, un-ironed ensemble kind of way.”
“Thanks, it took me hours to choose this lot,” he replied proudly and very firmly tongue in cheek.
They made their way down to the foyer of their block where they met their friends who were waiting impatiently to go to breakfast.
At 7.50 a.m., the first bell sounded. The group of eight looked at each other. They were about to find out who was in whose class. As instructed, they made their way to the Year One hall, where they would be given their timetables. As they approached the building, a large group of students had congregated outside, waiting for the doors to open.
The doors opened automatically at 7.58 precisely and the students made their way inside. The hall could seat around 300 students and was laid out like a cinema with large comfortable chairs. Instead of drinks holders between the seats, there were retractable desks and a small control panel for, amongst other things, a translation device with headphones. The room was noisy with the excited chatter of over 200 new Year 1 students. Tom, Lela and their friends found eight seats together near the front and waited for whatever was about to happen.
“Welcome to The Academy,” boomed a cheery voice. Silence descended on the hall as an enormous screen came to life and a very cheery Mr Sakamoto sat behind his desk. The picture then broke down into seven boxes showing seven different halls, each filled with excited students. The screen then switched back to Mr Sakamoto.
“My name is Mr Sakamoto and I am the Headmaster of this prestigious new institution. It is an institution founded to ensure the security of the world and its economies. Every country in the world is represented by you. You will form friendships and relationships with students whom your ancestors would have regarded as enemies. You will learn and understand how you, personally, can contribute to and improve the world we live in. We believe that this institution, through its curriculum, will inspire you, as a collective, to resolve many of the world’s biggest issues, in a way that had never been thought possible. This won’t happen overnight but in generations to come and surely in your own lifetimes. Today will be looked back on as the day which changed the course of world history. And every one of you is the key to that.” All seven halls exploded into rapturous applause.
“Sounds exciting, impressive and very scary all in one,” whispered Tom to Lela.
As the applause died down, Mr Sakamoto continued.
“Thank you. Soon, I will hand you over to your Year Heads who will let you know the format of your classes and take you through your timetable. But firstly, I believe there are a number of rumours regarding the exclusion of students from the school yesterday. To clarify the situation, I can confirm that one student was excluded for bullying. Nobody was seriously injured and I want to make it clear that the school rule will always be enforced rigorously. It is brief and overarching. There are no loopholes nor get-out clauses. You must behave like ladies and gentlemen or you will be asked to leave. There will be no exceptions and no second chances. And finally I want to wish you all well in your studies and most importantly, hope that you enjoy your time here. My door is always open and should you wish to see me, please do not hesitate as that’s what I’m here for. Now I’m pleased to introduce you to your Year Heads. Good-bye for now.” The screen went blank.
Mr Sakamoto looked over at his Deputy, Mr Weadle.
“How was that?” he asked.
Unlike Mr Sakamoto, Weadle was a lifelong educator, having been the Headmaster of many prestigious schools in his time. In order to get to know each other better, they had spent the previous week together at an elite training centre in Nottingham, England, with a specialist headmaster trainer, Mr Johnson. It was obvious that Weadle did not agree with Mr Sakamoto’s appointment above him. However, Mr Johnson had put Weadle firmly in his place and had warned Mr Sakamoto that he was going to have to watch Weadle like a hawk.
“Yes, not bad,” replied Weadle.
From Weadle that was as good a compliment as Mr Sakamoto could have expected.
A very chirpy and excited man bounced up onto the stage and introduced himself to his audience.
“Bonjour, my name is Monsieur Becherand and I am the Head of Year One.”
“Bonjour,” came the automatic response from the audience.
“Merci and welcome to l’Academie. Firstly, I’m sure you’re all very keen to know which classes you’re in, so let’s get that out of the way. Could everyone please stand up and look at the ten blocks of seats in the hall. Above each block is a letter from A to J and they each designate a class. OK, if you look at the screen, you’ll see that there are about twenty names under each letter. Once you’ve found your name on a list, please make your way to the corresponding block.”
Chaos descended on the hall as students fought past each other to find their block. Tom and Lela held each other’s hands tightly as they looked for their names. This was the moment they had been dreading. They could not bear the thought of being separated. Donald had insisted that they remain in the same year. Tom was not allowed directly into Year 2 as he was only thirteen so the only option was to hold Lela back a year which all agreed was better than separation. However, no guarantees were given that they would be in the same class.
Tom found his name. He was in class 1H.
“I’m in 1H,” said Lela.
“So am I!” said Tom, hugely relieved.
“So am I!” came another six responses from around them.
“What! We’re all in the same class?” Tom said.
“Looks like it,” responded Ahmad.
Tom thought back to the meeting with Mr Sakamoto. He had been interested in who they had made friends with and had obviously made a few last minute changes.
“That’s fantastic!” said Mingmei.
“Excellent!” added Chen.
“Wicked!” said Tristan. “Are there any real hotties in our class?”
The group just laughed at him.
As they made their way to their block of seats, they noticed a teacher sitting amongst their group. She was young and Tristan thought looked very fit. As they approached, they counted thirteen students waiting for them. Class 1H had twenty one students, twelve boys and nine girls. Tristan was disappointed with the ratio. Thabo, whom they had met on the first evening was in their class, as was the US Joint Chiefs’ son, Zach. Tom and Lela recognised a few of the others but there were quite a few students they did not know.
“Hi guys, come and sit down. I’m Miss Sullivan and I’m your Class Principal. I will be your first point of contact for any problems you may have in your first year here.”
The eight took their seats.
“If you look at your armrest on the right, you’ll see a control panel. Please touch the ‘Notepad’ button,” instructed Miss Sullivan.
As they pressed the button, small notepads emerged from the armrest and swung in front of each of the students. It had the same screen Tom had seen on their first day.
“Now if you can all just write your name in the box and then touch the enter button with your right forefinger,” she instructed and watched as they all completed the task. “Excellent, that’s it, from now on all you need to do is touch any screen in the school and you will be logged straight into your account.”
A number of different cools, wickeds and excellents could be heard around the class.
Miss Sullivan continued.
“Every single desk has a similar notepad, one touch and you access everything you have ever stored. The school is paperless, if you prefer to use a pen to take notes than using a keyboard just use the electronic pens and write on the screen and it will be automatically be added to your notes for whatever lesson you’re in. The system is intuitive and will correct you if you make mistakes.”
“So education has finally broken into the twenty first century,” whispered Tom to Lela.
“If you touch the timetable tab at the top of your screen, your timetable will come up.”
The students eagerly clicked the symbol, desperate to see their timetables. Weeks of speculation as to what was in store for them was about to end.
Tom eagerly clicked the button and his timetable appeared in front of him.
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
8.00 — 9.00
English
Maths
Geography
Chemistry
Maths
9.00–10.00
Maths
Physics
French
English
Biology
10.15 — 11-15
French
Latin
Art/Music
Physics
Spanish
Sports
10.00 — 2.00
11.15–12.15
Chemistry
Spanish
Religious Studies
Biology
Computing
Lunch
Lunch
Lunch
Lunch
Lunch
Lunch
1.30 — 2.30
Economics
World History
New Business
Marketing
Law
2.30 — 3.30
World Politics
Accounting
Psychology
Economics
Accounting
3.30 — 4.30
International
Business
Business Admin
Leadership Skills
World Politics
Etiquette
Miss Sullivan allowed them all some time to digest the information before continuing.
“If you could please touch the English lesson at 8.00 a.m. on Monday, you’ll see that the screen jumps to a more detailed page, giving you the location, your teacher’s name, any homework due for that day and as you can see, you have an essay due for next Monday. You will also see the coursework tab. If you press that,” Miss Sullivan waited as they each navigated to the correct area. “You’ll see a comprehensive list and detailed notes for each of your lessons, you’ll also notice suggested links for further help and information. Every subject has the same facility, everything is there for you.”
“This is fantastic,” Tom said to Lela as he flew through the pages.
“I must, however, emphasise that although you have all your coursework to hand, do not underestimate how much work will be required and how hard the courses are going to be. The school planners are using you as guinea pigs and have opted for the hardest option this year.”
A bell sounded signifying that it was 8.55 a.m. and time for their next class. Nobody moved.
“Well, everybody, time to go to your first class,” said Monsieur Becherand from the stage.
Everybody in Tom’s class looked at each other, they had no idea where to go.
“It’s OK, I’m your Physics teacher and your first lesson is with me. I’ll take you to the lab,” announced Miss Sullivan to Class IH.
The class breathed a sigh of relief and followed Miss Sullivan to the Science Wing. The rest of the day was really an induction day, to get to know their teachers and the other students in their class.
There were four students of oriental origin. Lela, Chingmei, Mia and Chen. There were two South Americans, Diego the son of the Paraguayan President and Elena the daughter of a Brazilian industrialist. There was one student from the West Indies, Amy, the daughter of the President of Dominica, a tiny Caribbean island. There were five European students, Tom, Tristan, Oleg, Alysia, the daughter of a Greek shipping tycoon and Princess Madeleine of Sweden. There were two students from the Middle East, Jamal the son of the Syrian President and Ahmad. Three North Americans, Thierry, the son of a Canadian businessman, Heather, the daughter of an American financial family and Zach. There were two Africans, Thabo and Hassan, the Crown Prince of Morocco, one Australasian, Holly, the daughter of a very successful designer in Australia and one Indian student, Devesh or ‘Dev’, the son of the richest family in India.
At the end of a rather long and tiring day, Tom and Lela collapsed on Lela’s bed. Neither said anything for a while, they had just finished another five course dinner and were both mentally and physically exhausted.
Tom spoke first. They had not had a minute alone all day.
“So what do you think?”
“Amazing…you?”
“Amazing.”
“What about the people in our class?” asked Lela.
“Very cool, they all seem really nice…you?”
“Yeah, everybody is great and really friendly.”
They continued to discuss the other students, their teachers and their timetable. An hour later, at 9.00 p.m., Tom realised the time.
“Isn’t your father due to dial in for your lesson?”
“No he gave me the night off as it was my first day at school. But we should give them a quick call and let them know what happened.”
“Good idea. It’s 6.00 p.m. back home but if we wait an hour we’re more likely to catch my dad.”
“OK. Let’s stick the TV on while we wait.”
Tom was amazed at how cool the TV system was. It could tap into any service around the world. The menu allowed them to select a continent and sub menus allowed them to drill down to individual TV stations across the world. Tom selected the latest episode of The Apprentice. He loved the American version and unfortunately, his father had declined to be ‘the Boss’ in the UK version, along with a number of the best British businessman. The BBC had ended up running the show with a third-rate entrepreneur and a bunch of no-hope contenders. It was dreadful and cringeful compared to the very slick American version.
An hour later, they phoned home and spoke to Rachel and Saki and just as they were about to hang up, Donald arrived home. They repeated everything they had already said and eventually hung up. Everyone was extremely happy with developments. Tom had some work to do on proposals and thought it best to knock them on the head before he started having homework to contend with. He said goodnight to Lela and headed back to his room.
Their first day at school had gone as smoothly as they could possibly have hoped for.