Can’t live with them, can’t live without them – toilets are a main talking point in the school corridors of power, says Carl Smith.

Flushed with success?

Others may discuss the cost-of-living crisis or the war in Ukraine but, for school leaders, it’s toilets all the way. 

Not that we want to, of course; in fact, most of us would rather clean toilets than talk about them, but talk about them we must with colleagues, parents and even our partners... though that might be going too far. 

“How was work today, darling?”
“Well, I was thinking about the Year 8 toilets.”
“That’s nice, dear. Have you washed your hands?” 

Obviously, your average ‘bog-standard’ comprehensive (sorry, but I had to get that in somewhere) is not a hotel and no-one expects gold taps and a range of high-end cosmetics. 

But surely everyone has the right to powder their nose without fear of entering a smoke-filled room reminiscent of a 1970s working men’s club. 

Yet that is the reality for most young people in our schools today, and it bothers us. 

The go-to place 

Toilets have become the go-to place for fashionable Year 9 students everywhere, preferably accompanied by a vague waft of watermelon ice, blue razz lemonade or – and I kid you not – mango cream dream. 

Containing more nicotine than a pouch of Golden Virginia, these little beauties have replaced neat vodka and glue-sniffing as the addiction of choice for our nation’s young. 

Meanwhile, schools – in their various states of disrepair – come equipped with toilets that wouldn’t be out of place in a Victorian slum, hidden from view and vandalised on a daily basis by over-exuberant Year 10s with a penchant for removing toilet roll dispensers. 

Premises staff across the land spend hours of fun removing entire toilet rolls from the bowls while searching for the latest stash behind the ceiling tiles. 

Not only do students yearn to be in these toilets, it seems, they also yearn to wreck them. 

Those fortunate enough to work in new buildings have a different experience. Single-person cubicles with in-house wash basins and a door directly on to a main corridor have their uses in this world, not least of which is to free up school leaders from spending their lunchtimes on toilet duty. 

Vape sensors come as standard in these lavatorial gardens of Eden, which means that, on the whole, young people can go to the toilet in comparative peace. 

Unfortunately, building a new toilet block isn’t cheap, and there are lots of other ways to spend the £50,000+ required – paying your staff, for example. 

How do you weigh up the comparable merits of three smart toilet cubicles against employing three extra teaching assistants? I’ve yet to see a toilet cubicle that can teach phonics, no matter how well decorated it is. 

Instead, young people amuse themselves watching TikTok videos of protests against toilet rules while Facebook lights up with righteous indignation about how schools are treating their children like prisoners. 

Social media tsunami 

Pity the poor school that dares to take any form of action, as the press will surely pounce on the tsunami of social media that follows. Even a simple rule to discourage students from going to the toilet ten times a day results in frequent citations of the UN declaration of human rights. 

Perhaps, and this is just a hunch, if young people couldn’t get hold of the vapes in the first place, the world would be a happier place – except, of course, for those who make and sell them. 

Perhaps they should supervise school toilets instead, while the rest of us talk about education. 

Carl Smith is Principal at Casterton College, Rutland (CCR) 

Want the last word?

Last Word always welcomes contributions from members. If you’d like to share your humorous observations of school life, email Permjit Mann at leader@ascl.org.uk ASCL offers a modest honorarium.

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