“Believe it or not, some of you are going to have to think about your careers soon,” said Miss Claunt, writing JOBS & QUALIFICATIONS in big letters on the whiteboard.

Jamie was drawing the moves to his step-over on the back of his exercise book. He’d promised himself that he would visualize the skill every day between now and the Cup Final. He wrote the words “step, shave and knock” as neatly as he could above his sketches.

Ollie Walsh, who sat in front of Jamie, must have sensed that he was thinking about football. While Miss Claunt was talking, Ollie turned his back to her and said to Jamie: “We gotta get the paper today – see if our picture’s in there!”

“Ollie,” Miss Claunt said calmly. “Can you turn around, please?”

Ollie raised his eyebrows to Jamie and just completely ignored her. He seemed to have this spell over her that allowed him to do whatever he wanted.

“Can you imagine what it’s gonna be like playing at Phoenix Park!” Ollie continued, as if they were having a chat on a football pitch, not in the middle of the lesson. “It gonna be—”

“Ollie!” said Miss Claunt, now raising her voice. “I asked you to TURN AROUND!”

Then Ollie did something that was either very clever or very naughty. Probably both.

He stood up, looked at Miss Claunt straight in the eye, turned around in an entire circle and sat back down again, still keeping his back to her, facing Jamie.

Jamie was laughing and so was the rest of the class.

“What?” said Ollie, the picture of innocence. “She asked me to turn around! That’s what I did.”

“OK – very clever, Ollie. Can you turn this way, please,” said Miss Claunt. Jamie could see that she was almost smiling. He was surprised that she wasn’t more angry. Then again, this was Ollie. She never got angry with Ollie.

“Thank you, Ollie,” she said, pulling her fringe to the side of her reddening forehead as Ollie finally turned to face her. “So sorry to interrupt your conversation.”

“No problem, miss.”

“Now, since you’re in such a talkative mood today, Ollie, perhaps you’ll be kind enough to share with us the career that you would like to have when you’re older?”

“Sure, miss. I’m going to be a federal agent.”

“And do you even know what that means?”

“Yeah, it means you get to wear a badge, be on TV and pull loads of girls. That’s my kinda job!”

Everyone started laughing but Miss Claunt carried on, still trying to make her point.

“I’m sure you would make an excellent federal agent, Ollie – you’ve certainly got the self-confidence – but you know you’d need top marks in all your exams to be accepted into the intelligence services. . .”

Jamie drew a football on his book. Then he started to sketch in the mouse’s eyes and ears.

“. . .about you, Jamie?”

Jamie looked up blankly. He hadn’t been listening.

“I asked you what career you’re interested in, Jamie.”

Jamie should have just said doctor or dentist but, before he’d allowed himself a second to think about it, he’d already blurted it out: “Footballer, miss. I’m going to be a footballer.”

The class started laughing again and Claunt marched over to Jamie.

“Show me your exercise book,” she demanded.

“Why, miss? I—”

“Let me see it!”

Jamie handed it over.

“Not that side! The other side! The one you’ve been scribbling over all lesson. . . And what’s this?” she shouted, holding the book up so the whole class could see Jamie’s step-over sketches.

“It’s a . . . football skill, miss . . . I just had it in my head . . . I was still listen—”

“Right – that’s it!” said Claunt. “I’m not having people sitting here drawing cartoons in my lesson. I’ve had enough. Get out!”

“Ah, sorry, miss,” said Jamie. “But it’s the truth! I am going to be a footballer!”

Again the class started laughing, which only made Claunt angrier. Now there was no way she was going to accept his apology.

“I don’t care what you think you’re going to be!” she screamed. “You can tell the head teacher when you explain to him why you’ve been sent out! Now get out!”