The premise of Miss is deceptively simple: a 25-year-old secondary school teacher in a state comprehensive navigating the daily chaos of pupils, parents, colleagues, and her own self-doubt. But in Meg Coslett’s capable hands, as both writer and performer, it becomes an hour of sharp, witty, and ultimately moving theatre.
Coslett’s “Miss” is a teacher with a big heart: caring, empathetic, and endlessly kind. She’s the sort of person who gets along with almost everyone, students, fellow staff members, even the prickliest parents. A people-pleaser? Certainly. But always with the best intentions. She strives to make a difference, to do right by those in her care, even if it means bending the rules when the situation demands it.
We see a teacher who is forever on the brink of resigning, worn down by the pressures of the job, her confidence fraying at the edges. She is not just an educator but also a counsellor, mediator, and sometimes a reluctant disciplinarian. And while her instinct is to find humour in the absurdity of school life, the cracks in her armour begin to show.
The first three-quarters of the play are gloriously funny, peppered with spot-on observations, quick-fire jokes, and moments of deliciously wicked humour. There’s an ease to Coslett’s delivery that makes her anecdotes sparkle, those who’ve worked in education will recognise every exaggerated-but-true beat, while the rest of us laugh in guilty recognition from our own school days.
As the play moves into its final quarter, the tone subtly shifts. The pace slows; the humour remains but is tinged with unease. We see the darker realities of the job emerge: pupils battling eating disorders, bullying, and the terrifying recruitment of vulnerable children into county lines. Here, “Miss” begins to question not just her ability as a teacher, but her own future as a potential parent.
How could she protect her own future children from the very world she sees unravelling in her classroom?
By the end, the laughter has faded into a sobering truth: state school teachers carry a weight that few outside the profession truly understand. Coslett leaves the audience with no easy answers, just the uneasy knowledge that kindness and courage are sometimes not enough in a system stretched to breaking point.
The supporting cast, namely – Georgia McGuire, James Coward, and Joe Sefton, are nothing short of brilliant. Playing multiple roles, they switch seamlessly between pupils of different ages and fellow staff members, creating some of the show’s funniest moments with sharp timing and physical comedy.
This short play, Miss, is a tightly written, fast-paced snapshot of school life – witty, clever, and packed with both laugh-out-loud moments and gut-punches of emotional truth. While the audience on the night was largely made up of teachers (who were clearly loving every in-joke), even as a non-teacher I found it irresistible. After all, we’ve all been to school, and the memories, good and bad, are never far away.
This is smart, heartfelt theatre at its best. Don’t “Miss” it!
Review by Bernadette Lintunen
Miss is starting to find white hairs at 25. Miss wants you to know that teenagers are mostly decent people, it’s the adults that are tossers. Above all, Miss is sick of being called ‘Miss’.
Set in any secondary school, ‘Miss’ is an everyman (well, every-teacher). She could work at the school down the end of your road, she could work in a school 275 miles away, she could be the supply teacher you had for English on that one day. It doesn’t matter; her day would be filled with the same sort of kids, the same sort of highs and the same sort of lows. We shadow Miss for a day – from her 8am Weetabix to her 3pm breakdown and everything in between.
Written and performed by Meg Coslett, the cast includes Georgia Maguire, James Coward and Joe Sefton. Directed by Phoebe Rowell John. Additional material devised by the cast
MISS
Lion & Unicorn Theatre, 7 to 9 August 2025
Presented as part of The Camden Fringe
