The Sit-Down Dance: part 1

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Every girl in the school knew about it, even if they’d just heard the whispered rumours. They talked about it ominously, like a ghostly legend, or a terrible curse. And when it was discussed, it was only ever in hushed voices and the merest mumblings. It was the threat that hung over them all, the most feared punishment, the just deserts awaiting the perpetrators of the very naughtiest misbehaviour.

How many times had a group of friends begun to scheme some illicit hijinks, only for one of them to stop, and suddenly exclaim: “We can’t do that! We’d all do the Sit Down Dance for sure!”

There was no greater shame than to be summoned to the front of the class, having finally exhausted your teacher’s patience. And then having to stand there, head bowed, as she scribbled your name and misdemeanour onto a little red-bordered card. All while your classmates were excitedly whispering and sniggering just behind you…

“The Sit Down Dance! She’s going to do the Sit Down Dance!”

There was no greater embarrassment than pushing through the double doors of the staff wing, an area normally strictly off-limits for pupils, once the final bell of the school day had rung. Clutching your little red-bordered card to your chest, proffering it to each passing teacher, your pass to the inner sanctum, shirking with shame as they read your name and your crime, scowling disdainfully.

And there was no greater anxiety than trudging down the long corridor, past all the staff rooms and the Headmistress’ office. To shuffle inevitably towards the Punishment Room, tummy tumbling with trepidation.

The door to that notorious room was old and heavy, a dark mahogany hunk that looked incongruously out of place amidst the school’s modern decor, like a pirate ship had somehow been moored at the end of the corridor. Even just turning the ornate brass handle gave the feeling you were about to leave the modern world behind and step beyond into the captain’s cabin.

Visitors saw a small brass plaque mounted at eye-height, a few lines engraved in cursive writing for those about to enter to ponder. It was a quotation from long ago, from when school itself had still been young.

Heaven is not always angry when he strikes,

But most chastises those

Whom most he likes.

– John Pomfret

Alice could feel the dampness of her own palm as she gripped the handle, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pushed the heavy door ajar.

Yet no matter how many times Alice had visited the Punishment Room, the world beyond that antiquated door never failed to surprise her…

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