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Y OU DO NOT LAST very long at this particular school. And when I say this, I am employing a technique called ‘litotes’ – something that means you really don’t last very long at all.
One Tuesday morning, your normal teacher is off sick. Another teacher is standing in. This teacher is not in control of you. She is not in control of anyone.
You are sitting next to a kid called Joe and a kid called Louis. The three of you are doing arts and crafts. You hold the safety scissors carefully, cut shapes out of the cardboard. The kid called Joe then sticks these shapes to another piece of cardboard. After this, the kid called Louis pours quantities of PVA glue over everything, and everyone heaps glitter everywhere. It’s teamwork. It’s dreamwork. It’s art, but only kind of.
But lo! In the corner over there, a kid called Rebecca has just had an accident. By this, I mean she has just done a wee while still wearing her clothes. She is doing a lot of crying about this as she waddles around uncomfortably, her legs wide like a cowboy.
Even though such things go with the territory of teaching young children, the teacher seems alarmed by Rebecca’s accident. She asks the assistant to take Rebecca out of the classroom and guide her somewhere – anywhere – else.
‘Can you help her out the room?’ she asks the assistant.
The assistant, an old, uncooperative woman, looks at the teacher for a few seconds. ‘Where do you want me to take her?’
‘The nurse’s room, maybe?’ the teacher says.
The assistant shakes her head. ‘I don’t know if this merits a trip to the nurse’s room.’
‘Wherever, then,’ the teacher says. ‘I don’t know the protocol.’
‘I think she just has to sit back down,’ the assistant says. ‘She’ll dry out soon enough.’
The teacher’s eyes go wide. ‘I think someone needs to phone her mum or dad.’
The assistant crosses her arms. ‘Excuse me,’ she says. Then in a stage whisper everyone everywhere can hear: ‘Don’t you know Rebecca’s parents are dead?’
At this, a still-damp Rebecca cries even harder, the teacher and the assistant go to comfort her, and Joe and Louis seize an opportunity.
To be specific, they ask you to go into the cupboard to grab some more supplies. They do this even though you are not allowed to go into the cupboard to grab some more supplies.
‘That’s not allowed,’ you say.
‘It’s OK,’ Joe says.
‘Miss said you could,’ Louis says.
‘I’ll come too,’ Joe says.
‘OK,’ you say, now swayed.
There are a lot of cool things in the cupboard: paints, staplers, felt tips, whiteboard pens.
‘Take those,’ Joe says, lurking by the door to keep a lookout.
‘Huh?’ you ask.
‘Those, there. We can cut them. Take them.’
You look to where he is pointing. You don’t know what the books are, but they do have pretty pictures. Pictures of donkeys. Pictures of deserts. Pictures of mountains. Pictures of men.
You grab a few and plonk them back on your desk.
Joe and Louis start laughing when you begin cutting up the children’s Bibles. Pleased, you smile along. When the teacher finally realises what you’re doing, she sits down on the floor next to Rebecca and starts to wail.
Further reading:
For the Love of Art: Crafting for Kids
For the Love of God: The Bible for Kids