Ushering the in-crowd out made for the best day of Ann J. Horner's young life.
My best day was a moment of self-discovery.
By the seventh form many pupils had departed for jobs in the real world, leaving only brainy kids, the studious and the I'm-only-at-school-for-the-sports boys.
The latter group considered themselves the in-crowd and were forced, by the attrition of sporty girls, to recruit girlfriends from among the brainy and the studious.
My two closest friends became girlfriends of that all-important group.
I, therefore, had to be tolerated on the glowing fringes of the in-crowd.
Our common room stank of sweaty socks and coffee with a hint of orange peel; it embraced the roar of teenage voices and the thwack of a ball being thrown about.
The in-crowd's ball game occupied the main space while 60 pupils flanked the walls, holding hot drinks and conversations.
With monotonous regularity the in-crowd forgot their status as sports heroes and missed a catch, their ball walloping someone and splattering black coffee indiscriminately over skin, chairs and carpet tiles.
One crowded winter's day the ball smacked the side of my face.
The colour of my rage matched my smarting cheekbone.
''Take your game outside. Look around, no-one can use the room but you,'' I said.
''Sor-ry,'' they said, with patronising smile, as they continued to hurl their ball.
I surveyed those inhabiting the outer edges of the room. Responses were identical.
''Yes, the ball lobbing is selfish and totally unacceptable,'' and ''No, in absolutely no circumstances will I confront the in-crowd.''
Knowing that the majority were behind me in belief, if not conviction, I marched into the fray snatching the ball out of the air.
''Enough! The common room is for all of us. No-one wants to spend their lunch time clinging to the walls. No-one is impressed by you. You belong outside.''
I strode to French door, wrenched it open and flung the ball out, standing aside to usher the in-crowd out. The room was silent.
One by one the in-crowd slunk out muttering half-formed apologies.
After a moment's hesitation the wall-huggers surged forward, dragging chairs and placing them mid-room.
I went down in the school magazine as the girl who ''stopped the boys playing with their balls in the common room''.
A small price to pay for my best day, when I discovered I could stand up and make a difference for those who don't want to raise their heads above the parapet.
Ann Horner is a health and safety consultant.
As the mother of teenagers she has become reacquainted with the challenges of high school cliques.
