Inspiration.

'History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it. ' Churchill.

As I walked into the 12 storey towerblock situated on the outskirts of town I had nothing, I took the stairs to the second floor shaking, I sat in a room of 100 teenagers, we waited and waited for over an hour, till we were rounded up like cattle, moved from room to room, lost and intimitated I clutched my GCSE results tightly in my clammy palms, they took my photo, and hurried me out, I was to start on monday.
It was still hot, mid september hot, when you are left unprepared in a thick cardigan. Drama, 7 of us, a mini test, they were all good friends, they didn't bring pens.
I quickly changed, and tuesday was now history, a tall man stopped me in the corridoor, moving slowly with the time to stop, but with a sense of urgency in his stance. 'A bonified history student he called me', 'a week late', and thrust a booklet with a shoddily photocopied image of Lloyd George on the front. He came down with an illness and was away for a week, a northern girl sat next to me, and mumbled constantly about grades about university, I wanted out, I didn't care, foreign policy could never solve my problems everything was in ruins as i sat amongst 9 other students waiting for his return.
He came back loud, harsh, cold and yet dynamic, another test, back the next day, red scrawl covering the page with a circle at the bottom '23'.
I was failing, I knew nobody, my grades were weak, and three times a week I had to suffer 2 hours with a man who made me shake when I attempted to dictate his unorthodox approach to the 1930's.
'Bulwark' I said, the first time I had spoken, yes he said, and it was then, that moment when we had been moved to the computer room, and there was to be a fire, and a girl was to lose her weave, it was that moment on that thursday that I realised I could do this, and I could like this.
My attendance improved, I bought paper and pens, caught the earlier bus so as never to be locked out on a friday, and when January came the A5 paper printed success.
For the first time I wanted something, I forgot how my education had been in tatters three months before, how I had lost everyone I knew, how I feared each day.
No longer did he look at me with the memory that I was late and disorganised, I kept reading and writing, UCAS came and offers arrived, the fascination began.