Where now for man raised by chinchillas?

I was on my way to the headmaster's office, when a first-former came running up to me.
"Sir! Sir!" he shouted.
I knew immediately that something terrible had happened. Normally the children only ever referred to me as "shitwit" or "the giddy man".
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's Samuelson!" the boy said, "he's choking on something!"
"Right! Lead the way!" I said, and charged after him.
He led me through a back door into the assembly hall to an area at the back of the stage. There I saw Samuelson all doubled-up with his face going purple.
I remembered that the Heimlich Manoeuvre was the best way to deal with such emergencies, so I strode up behind the boy, planted my feet wide apart and grabbed him around the waist. It was quite a struggle as I pushed my fist into his stomach to try and force whatever it was out of his airway.
I grunted loudly as I kept pounding my fist into him, and at one point I had to shout: "Keep still! I'm nearly finished!"
I heard footsteps on the other side of the stage curtain and a voice saying: "Is there someone behind there?"
Before I could answer, a wad of food exploded out of the boy's mouth and I had to hold onto him tightly to stop him from collapsing.
At that moment, the curtains were ripped open to reveal the headmaster, some heads of department, some inspectors from Ofsted and a crew from the local TV news.
I stood there, with a gasping, red-faced, traumatised-looking boy in my arms, not really knowing what to say.
"Umm..." I said.