Nine months after the RAAC crisis hit, the issue no longer dominates the news agenda but its fallout still impacts schools. Jessica Hill visits St Andrew鈥檚 Junior School, in the Essex village of Hatfield Peverel, to see the problems first hand The story of what happened to a school at risk of collapse from reinforced autoclaved aerated concrete (RAAC) isn鈥檛 really one about buildings at all. It鈥檚 about the extraordinary resilience of school staff faced with multiple crises. How leaders learnt to be kinder to themselves. And how, caught up in a storm of the uncontrollable, staff decided to focus on the things they could manage. Allison Dutaut the schools deputy with Jess Hill and headteacher Rebecca Black in the kitchen RAAC and nearly ruin Last summer, clumps of RAAC fell from the rafters of , despite its roof already being reinforced. Headteacher Rebecca Black believes it was the trigger for education secretary Gillian Keegan鈥檚 dramatic U-turn on RAAC 10 days later. On the last day of August, 100 schools with the crumbly concrete were told they could not open for the new school year. St Andrew鈥檚, one of the 100, decamped to a Georgian wedding venue for the first six weeks of term. Its 220 children are now back at their school site. But they are taught in temporary classroom blocks that sprawl across the playground, with the old RAAC-infested school building looming over them. And while it has secured a place on the government鈥檚 rebuilding programme, alongside just over half of the 234 RAAC-affected schools, it’s unclear when the work will begin. 鈥淭he [pupils are] settled and making fantastic progress,鈥 says deputy head Allison Dutaut, as she gestures at children playing on the patch of playground that remains. 鈥淏ut there have been points in the last year where staff have been on their knees with exhaustion with the effort of making that possible. It’s the human cost.鈥 Around 14 years ago, the school鈥檚 ever-leaking roof was propped up with steel-frame reinforcements. When Black took over as head in 2019 she asked the Department for Education to replace the roof. She was told to wait another three years. It wasn鈥檛 until May last year that a survey detected RAAC鈥檚 presence. Black asked again for a new roof 鈥 this time she was told she must wait a further two years since the steel reinforcements meant it was 鈥渓ow priority鈥. Then nine weeks later, on August 23, the site manager came to her with a box containing lumps of dislodged concrete. Leaks had caused the RAAC to fall apart. This time her call to the DfE got a very different reaction. 拢5000 worth of hot boxes used to transport dinners to the new temporary hall Through the ET tunnel Black and Dutaut guide me into the old school building through an apocalyptic polythene-clad walkway propped up with scaffolding. Black, who has retained her sense of humour as a coping mechanism throughout the crisis, refers to the walkway as the 鈥楨T tunnel鈥 as it evokes memories of the escape scene in the 1982 film. Desolate classrooms, abandoned like the Mary Celeste on August bank holiday weekend, still have work pinned to the walls. Staff only had time to grab essential items before the 54-year-old building was condemned. Looking back, Dutaut believes the 鈥渓oud banging noises鈥 she heard must have been RAAC cracking above the room where year 3 children received extra reading practice. The only room back in use is the school kitchen, where catering staff navigate their way around the metal poles of a 鈥榗rash deck鈥. It was put in place last term to catch falling RAAC debris in polythene sheets above their heads. They can now cook hot dinners again for the 400 children across St Andrew鈥檚 junior school and its neighbouring infant and nursery schools (the latter two schools are RAAC-free). Food is wheeled to children in the new temporary hall via two 鈥榟ot boxes鈥 the school bought for 拢2,500 a pop. Black compares them to the scream extractors in children鈥檚 film Monsters, Inc. Before their return, caterers made sandwiches on half a metre of workbench in the nursery鈥檚 galley kitchen. Sarah the catering manager working in the kitchen under the crash deck Flight risks and fatigue The school recently applied for counselling to support several members of staff. And Black still finds it hard to drive past Hatfield Place, the grand estate the school called home for a few weeks. Its orangery and rose garden provided the children with 鈥渓ots of beauty and cultural capital鈥, she says. But teaching had to be done in year group classes of 60. Smaller intervention groups weren鈥檛 possible and SEND children struggled. Each week, furniture was carried to and from makeshift classrooms across the sprawling 15-acre estate. Limited resources meant many class activities stopped. Dutaut admits patrolling the grounds each day was exhausting, and since the site was not secure, staff were forced to make 鈥渃onstant risk assessments鈥 and 鈥測ou were always thinking on your feet鈥. Some children with significant social, emotional and mental health needs were a 鈥渇light risk鈥 and had to be permanently placed with alternative provision locally. Transporting children on and off site, with staggered departures via coach, car and on foot, also proved challenging. Children learning at Hatfield Place Dutaut reflects on the importance of everyone coming together for collective worship at the end of each day, allowing 鈥渢hat sense of community鈥. The leadership team regularly put in 16-hour days. And Dutaut says there were times she returned home 鈥渁bsolutely exhausted鈥 and fell into bed fully clothed. Black adds: 鈥淭here was a huge amount of pressure we were putting on ourselves to get the school up and running as quickly as possible. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 realise what it would physically take, and how long-term the crisis would be. We were constantly trying to foresee the unforeseeable.鈥 It鈥檚 testament to the dedication of her team that only two families pulled children out of the school, for logistical reasons. St Andrews staff at Georgian wedding venue Hatfield Place Picture credit Rebecca Farries Everything is awesome In late October, willing grandparents and former staff joined the decamp back to St Andrew鈥檚 and its new portable classrooms. Black told the children it was like going to Legoland since their new classrooms resembled Lego bricks. She says: 鈥淪ome of the staff struggled with that concept, but the children really liked it.鈥 Although the temporary classrooms are a decent size, they lack storage space. There鈥檚 no room for PE, assemblies, interventions and staff meetings. Heavy rain this winter meant the now-measly outdoor play area shrank by another third due to puddles and poor drainage. Black says essential services have failed on dozens of occasions. They nearly had to close the site when the pipes of the 鈥渢hree-season鈥 toilets, as site manager Jason Pheifer calls them, froze and they wouldn鈥檛 flush. On one occasion sewage flowed across the playground. The three seasons toilets A messier Ikea showroom Black is incredulous that a fourth-hand prefab cabin, which she says came to the school 鈥渢o die鈥 35 years ago, ended up 鈥渟aving our bacon鈥. Despite having been previously sealed off because its roof was falling in, it became the 鈥渆mergency hub鈥. Computers and essential files were moved inside despite rainwater dripping onto desks. Black arrived one morning to find the ink on her to-do list had been washed off. The prefab鈥檚 roof was replaced and now the space resembles a messier version of an Ikea showroom, with screens dividing a makeshift staff room, breakfast club snug, maths intervention space/teachers鈥 dining table and kitchenette. Since Easter, the school has also been able to hold phonics and maths interventions in three swanky wooden cabins, normally bought to be used as garden offices. When 鈥渓ife gets back to normal鈥 Black says she hopes to convert them into changing rooms for a new outdoor swimming pool that was being planned before the RAAC crisis hit. Staff wheeling the hot boxes to the classrooms Policy churn and burn The headteacher is frustrated by how long progress has taken and describes 鈥渂anging my head against every brick wall going鈥 in countless meetings, tendering processes and decisions that often felt beyond her control. Work on a temporary hall that staff hoped could be used for a Christmas fair only began in February. School assemblies were viewed remotely until it finally opened last month. 鈥淚 understand procurement processes,鈥 says Black. 鈥淏ut this isn’t a normal situation. People are following flowcharts and there’s no flowchart for us 鈥 we’re having to do lots of hard thinking really quickly.鈥 While normally a school鈥檚 policies, risk assessments and evacuation plans 鈥渟tay the same for decades鈥 (aside from a 鈥渓ittle polish鈥), St Andrew鈥檚 has been 鈥渞ewriting significant chunks of policy鈥, says Dutaut. Guidelines drawn up in October were deemed 鈥渦seless鈥 by January. The deputy headteacher says there was anxiety that someone would 鈥渃ome in and audit whether my piece of paperwork matches exactly what the children are doing… you can鈥檛 keep on top of it all in a site that鈥檚 changing as quickly as this is. But we鈥檙e learning to be kinder to ourselves about it鈥. The school is currently in the window for an Ofsted inspection but the watchdog recently said RAAC schools can request a deferral. Around 60 per cent of Black鈥檚 time is still taken up dealing with the RAAC fallout. Her makeshift office desk groans with paperwork. But she says it鈥檚 important to smile since 鈥渟tomping around because it’s hard and we’re frustrated only tells everybody else it’s OK to be grumpy about things鈥. The temporary classrooms A new school anthem There have been silver linings, however. Toilet pipes are now insulated, and two old conservatories have been revived as intervention areas. The school鈥檚 new hall hosts collective worship, which has been 鈥渢ransformative鈥 in 鈥渕aking things feel more normal,鈥 says Dutaut. But there is a fear that so-called temporary structures may become more long term. While the initial plan had been for the old RAAC roof to be replaced before the start of the next academic year, in February it emerged that because the building no longer complied with modern building regulations, a complete rebuild was required. Initially, Black鈥檚 team were relieved. They assumed that being 鈥渢he poster school for RAAC鈥 they would be prioritised for a rebuild. But relief turned to dismay when they heard they were on the same timeline as other schools facing less trying circumstances. Black in her temporary office St Andrew鈥檚 is one of 65 RAAC primary schools waiting to be rebuilt. The Department for Education has not said when work will be finished but its 10-year rebuilding scheme that runs to 2030 is already behind schedule. And because St Andrews鈥 temporary classrooms sit so close to the old school building, they may have to be moved before any rebuild can begin. The words 鈥渆lections鈥 and 鈥渃osts鈥 kept being mentioned in a recent 鈥渧ery long and painful鈥 meeting with DfE officials, Black says. She adds: 鈥淭here are moments where we’re a pawn in a chess match 鈥 the DfE will do what they want, regardless of how much I stamp and shout.鈥 Amid the uncertainty, the leadership team have had to learn to 鈥渓ive more in the moment鈥, 鈥渓et go of normal expectations鈥 and be 鈥渁daptive to change at very short notice鈥, says Dutaut. That鈥檚 not been easy because 鈥渁s teachers, you鈥檙e used to being highly organised and micromanaging your environment鈥. Perhaps it鈥檚 not surprising that Black says her team鈥檚 theme tune is Elton John鈥檚 I鈥檓 Still Standing 鈥 and they all danced to it at their Christmas do. 鈥淥ur school is still standing. It鈥檚 still a place where all children love to learn,鈥 she says, smiling.