Mr Hayward (one day auto-corrected to Mr Haywire by Theodore's phone) was our History teacher in Year 7 and 8. He was pretty much part of the furniture of the school, having taught there since the 1980s. He had installed himself in the Beethoven room (one of the music rooms), and as far as I'm aware he was the only teacher to have his own office (albeit an unofficial one).

He was (indeed still is) a large, ageing man with crooked teeth, and seemed to like his classrooms to simulate Arctic environments. Leo and I always kept thermometers with us, and once measured a temperature of 16 degrees C in one of his lessons (during a Friday morning lesson in the dining hall). He liked to teach us about three things: the American Civil War, his extensive collection of questionable ties, and how amazing he thought Brexit was. I'm aware I'm not painting him in the best of lights here, but he was genuinely one of our favourite teachers, as he was a completely bizarre character. Apparently he also used to play squash when he was a young man, although to be honest none of us could really picture him doing so.

He did occasionally have some good jokes though: once when Giacomo and Leo were arguing about something, Giacomo said "I swear that..." (I can't remember what followed), and Mr Hayward retorted "dont't swear!". One day – perhaps during the same lesson that Leo and I measured 16 degrees C – Lewis was trying to keep warm by putting his v-neck over his head. Lewis, not the most attentive individual, wriggled about inside his jumper in full view of everyone, as he was sitting at the front of the classroom. Eventually, everyone – including Mr Hayward – was watching him in silence, until Mr Hayward eventually said "Lewis, have you ever heard of the hunchback of Notre Dame?"

Copying Out

Copying out was his favourite punishment. This consisted of writing out one of his history essays, or perhaps the code of conduct twice over. I think Henry Dewhurst still owes him copying out to this day. Fortunately for us, he didn't really know how computers worked, and he said we were allowed to type his copying out. One day he gave Theodore the code of conduct, which Theodore duly typed up and saved to his computer. The next time he got copying out (probably the Battle of Pinkie twice or something), he asked if he could do the code of conduct twice. Mr Hayward was happy with this. Of course, then, Theodore went to his computer, opened his copy of the code of conduct, duplicated the text, and printed it out.

Good Evening, Do Join Us

Mr Hayward was our form teacher in Year 8 (although we only saw him for prep time in the Fleming Room, as our morning registration was in the dining hall), and whenever anyone was late to prep, he would say "oh good evening, do join us". One day when Cassian came in late, Henry said (in his most over-the-top Mr Hayward impersonation) "good evening, do join us!", to which Mr Hayward replied "THAT'S MY LINE!"

One of Mr Hayward's favourite pastimes was to complain about Lower Sixth Radnor. One day he said "they're bonkers, the lot of them", to which Theorore replied "the same could be said about you sir". Mr Hayward, not quite believing his ears, asked "what?" and Theodore repeated: "the same could be said about you sir". Mr Hayward proceeded to explode in fury. Thankfully – and perhaps unsurprisingly – every other teacher thought the whole thing was hilarious. Forevermore Theodore was our martyr.

You might be able to tell by this point that Mr Hayward attempted to be a disciplinarian. However, for him to be a disciplinarian we would have to have respected his authority. We did not. That didn't stop him trying though: he once sent out Giacomo for playing with his hair (the only time Giacomo was ever sent out of a classroom). Mr Hayward was permanently locked in battle with Henry, who loved two things in his life: history, but even more so, winding up Mr Hayward.

The battle of Henry and Mr Hayward was continuous: I could never tell if Mr Hayward actually respected Henry for his love of history, but Henry's role as class clown definitely did not align with Mr Hayward's teaching style. One day, for example, Henry decided to get up and pretend to do sign language in the middle of the lesson. He found greater success doing this in Mrs Gilmour's Maths class, as I shall discuss later on.