The best invention derives from boredom. School was a monotonous dirge, the days dragged out like a string of well chewed gum beneath a wooden desk. Uniform prevented self expression, but you had free choice regarding your school bag. For a while everyone opted for the giant Head sports bags, often used by tennis players. Big enough to carry a small person in, we discovered. I can’t claim it was down to me. I was merely a witness. 

Graham did not seem to get any taller after Year 6, and was small even then. When you are picked on at any given opportunity the quick learners will fade into the background. It wasn’t his fault that he was small, his whole family were. Everyone has a moment in their school life that stands out over all the others, where the thing that held them back becomes their triumph and glory. This day was going to be Graham’s day.

A test run was carried out over the lunch break. We had to empty the bag almost entirely in the first instance, just to check whether it was possible. We worked out that if Graham could pull his knees up to his chest and tuck his head in, like a bomb dive position, then it was entirely possible to load him into the large tennis bag and pull the zipper up. The issue then was who would actually be able to lift the bag onto their shoulder. This fell to John who was one of the bigger lads in the group. Using both hands and a little leverage he was able to swing the whole item onto his shoulder and successfully carry it down the classroom. So far so good, Graham just needed to keep quiet. I expect it was an unusual feeling to be crammed into a dark space like then swung around without being able to see. He yelped a couple of times in shock as the momentum of the bag swung round then heard a muffled giggle from within. He promised to keep quiet next time so as not to spoil the surprise.

As the bell rang there was a building sense of nervousness. While the whole exploit was obviously going to be hilarious there were some who were worried about consequences. If they had been part of the plan there was an inevitable punishment due later. 

John hefted the bag onto his shoulder and we followed him into the classroom. He slowly and gently shifted the weighted item down towards the floor and set it in place. Now to wait for Mrs Heffernan to arrive. A flustered spinster in her fifties clutching a raft of textbooks shuffled into the room. Teachers get that sense that something is amiss but often it is not possible to know what is wrong. It’s a kind of sixth sense. I couldn’t help glancing at the bag, wondering how it was alone in the dark. We couldn’t maintain eye contact without laughing. It was best just to keep our heads down.

     “We were discussing the resurrection of Christ, turn to page 33. Mrs Heffernan paused, looking around “Where is Graham?”.

Silence followed. Everyone knew exactly where he was but the subterfuge had to last a little longer.

     “Dunno Miss,” John said, think he’s sick”

     “Right, OK,” she said. Her eyes narrowed a little.”I was sure I saw him earlier. Anyway, let’s continue”

Mrs. Heffernan continued with the story of the crucifixion. She explained how it took place, and that later the body was taken to the Garden of Gethsemane and was placed in a tomb with a large stone rolled over it. When the disciples returned they discovered that the tomb had been opened and that Jesus had reappeared to his disciples.

     As Mrs Heffernan reached this point she started the sentence “And the gospel tells us that Jesus said to his disciples….” 

Graham seized the opportunity and hollered from within the bag “Hey I’m back fellas!”

Mrs Heffernan shrieked, head shooting round the room looking for the source of the unearthly voice. The class erupted in fits of laughter as little Graham emerged from the giant tennis bag, beaming at his successful prank.

     “Graham and John, Headteacher now! She shrieked. They both trudged out still laughing.

“The rest of you detention,” she shouted on her way out. It was worth it. Little Graham was the school hero for weeks.