Evans Tries An O-Level class- 12 handmade notes pdf

                      Evans Tries An O-Level 

Before you read Should criminals in prison be given the opportunity of learning and education?

Dramatis Personae The Secretary of the Examinations Board.The Governor of HM Prison, Oxford James Evans, a prisoner Mr Jackson, a prison officer

Mr Stephens, a prison officer
The Reverend S. McLeery, an invigilator

Mr Carter, Detective Superintendent
Mr Bell, Detective Chief Inspector
All precautions have been taken to see to it that the O-level German examination arranged in the
prison for Evans does not provide him with any means of escape.

It was in early March when the
Secretary of the Examinations Board
received the call from Oxford Prison.
“It’s a slightly unusual request,
Governor, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t try to help. Just the one fellow, you say?”

“Evans the Break” as the prison officers called him.

Thrice he’d escaped from prison, and but for the recent
wave of unrest i

n the maximum-security establishments
up north, he wouldn’t now be gracing the Governor’s

premises in Oxford; and the Governor was going to make
absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be disgracing them.
Not that Evans was a real burden: just a persistent, nagging
presence. He’d be all right in Oxford, though: the Governor
would see to that — would see to it personally. And besides,
there was just a possibility that Evans was genuinely

interested in O-level German. Just a slight possibility. Just
a very slight possibility. At 8.30 p.m. on Monday 7 June,
Evans’s German teacher shook him by the hand in the
heavily guarded Recreational Block, just across from D

Wing.
“Guten Gluck, Herr Evans.”
“Pardon?”
“I said, “Good luck”. Good luck for tomorrow.”

“Oh. Thanks, er, I mean, er, Danke Schon.”
“You haven’t a cat in hell’s chance of getting through,
of course, but — ”
“I may surprise everybody,” said Evans.
At 8.30 the following morning, Evans had a visitor.

Two visitors, in fact. He tucked his grubby string-vest into
his equally grubby trousers, and stood up from his bunk,
smiling cheerfully. “Mornin”, Mr Jackson. This is indeed
an honour.”

Jackson was the senior prison officer on D Wing, and
he and Evans had already become warm enemies. At
Jackson’s side stood Officer Stephens, a burly, surly-looking
man, only recently recruited to the profession.

Jackson nodded curtly. “And how’s our little Einstein
this morning, then?”
“Wasn’t ’e a mathematician, Mr Jackson?”
“I think ’e was a Jew, Mr. Jackson.”
Evans’s face was unshaven, and he wore a filthy-looking
red-and-white 

bobble hat upon his head. “Give me a chance,
Mr Jackson. I was just goin’ to shave when you bust in.”

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