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A School Trip to Forget

Around five years ago, I was sitting quietly in my office, probably dealing with another boring email from county, or writing another pointless policy, when I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was my Key Stage 1 teacher who had come to share an exciting idea for a school trip for their class. The children were in the middle of a unit all about how chocolate is made, and as you might expect, they were very engaged in their learning. Their teacher proposed that a great way to finish the unit of work would be to visit a chocolate factory, and they found out about one within driving distance from the school who would be happy to give us a tour!

Their enthusiasm persuaded me that this was a good idea, with one condition: they had to take me with them! So, it was arranged. The children were extremely excited, wondering whether we would get a chance to taste the chocolate, whether it would be churned in a waterfall, whether we would see any little orange men, etc.

When the day finally came, the children could barely keep control of their excitement, and the coach was humming when we took off from school at the start of the day. It would only take us around 20 minutes to reach our destination, which meant I was confident that we would not have to deal with any travel sickness, but I kept my fingers crossed anyway.

The first sign that things were not going to be as expected was when we arrived at what appeared to be a small industrial estate which also proclaimed itself to be the site of the largest car boot sale in the whole of the county. Drab grey buildings, the sort where the top half is made of sheet metal and the bottom half of breeze blocks, dominated the area around the car park where we disembarked the coach. There were about 20 tractors parked up in one section, which some of the children were excited to see, but there was a distinct lack of whimsy and magic in the air.

I would like to say that the man who came to greet us at the front door of the 'chocolate factory' was dressed in a satin suit with a tall hat and a cane, but he wasn't. Instead, our Mr Wonka wore a white boiler suit and a white cap. He seemed friendly, though, so I hadn't quite given up hope yet. The last vestiges disappeared, though, when we entered the premises. The sight we were greeted with resembled the killing floor in a slaughterhouse!

It turned out that the chocolate wasn't even that good. This company specialised in producing the little branded chocolates you get for free in cheap hotels and in Indian restaurants after you have paid the bill, and we all know what these taste like. To their credit, the workers tried their best to make our visit, which lasted around 45 minutes as interesting as possible, but they were fighting a losing fight. Thank God our children were well behaved, though, as they stood and listened patiently to their lecture. I shudder to think what would have happened otherwise!

The kids all got some free chocolate on the way out, which seemed to keep them happy, but I would be lying if I said that a cloud of disappointment did not follow the coach back to school that day. Needless to say, the whole experience was never spoken of again, and I think we changed our topic for the following year.



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