Ah, Mrs. Smith, so glad you could make it. This is your first parents’ evening here, isn’t it?

Yes, Sally has only been here for half a term. I have to say, we’re a little... well, surprised by the curriculum.

Surprised?

Yes, it’s not what we were expecting, no not at all.

I’m sorry to hear that. In what way is it not meeting your expectations?

Well, in her last school, Sally was in the top percentile for Maths and Sciences. We had high hopes for her going on to Cambridge and getting her degree.
But since coming here, she tells us she hasn’t done any maths at all. Or any science.
Unless you count all that mucking about in the cellars with cauldrons and the most ghastly bits of muck...

But... I mean, you did know what kind of school this was when you asked us to take Sally, didn’t you?

Well, I have to admit, when my colleague recommended you, I thought he was using the phrase ‘It’s a Magic School’ in the sense that it was very good. You know, like we used to say back in the Eighties ­ ‘That’s Magic!’ And we couldn’t get to the orientation lecture for new parents.

You had other commitments?

No, we couldn’t get to it. Physically. It was being held in some part of London that could only be accessed by persons of a magical persuasion.

Well, now I begin to understand Sally’s poor performance...

Poor performance? Sally?

Oh yes. You see, under recent government regulations, we’re not permitted to place harsh restrictions on which pupils we accept. We must take in a certain percentage of less­ able students...

But Sally’s not “less able”.

Oh, I’m sure she isn’t, in conventional terms. But we are a magic school, you see, and Sally has no trace of magical ability whatsoever. She’s failing every class.

Every class?

(Flicks through a folder on his desk) Yes, just about every class, I’m afraid.

And what are you going to do about this?

Well, we’ve engaged Sally in a Special Education Programme, and for examinations we’ve allowed her to have an assistant ­ who does the wand work according to her instructions. (MRS SMITH is speechless in horror)

And just where do you see Sally going when she leaves here?

Well, I can be very precise here. All our students are assessed by our Crystal Ball Career Services when they arrive. They tell me that Sally will have four miserable years here before playing a small but significant role in the rise of a new Dark Magic Army which will threaten to overrun the world, then settling down to raise three children, one of whom is destined to defeat Morkon the Dark Wizard of Mesopotamia...

So ... not Cambridge then?

‘fraid not.

But she hasn’t a bad bone in her body!

Oooh, she will have. Once she’s joined the Dark Magic Army. Still, what can you do?

We can transfer her to another school, that’s what we can jolly well do!

I’m afraid we can’t allow that. We’ve seen the future, and Sally is in it. Taking her away now would introduce an instability to the causality of... Oh, hang on a minute... (He reaches under the desk and pulls out a wand.) Memori disintegratay! (MRS SMITH gives a small start as if hit with a small electric shock.) Well, thank you for coming, and I hope we’ll see you for the Summer Barbeque? And of course, any donations to school funds are always welcome.

We’ll leave a cheque at reception.
Thank you so much for... er... everything?

Goodbye.