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Y OUR TEACHER WANTS YOU all to write an essay on a hobby or interest. The hobby or interest can be anything, he says. If you like swimming, it can be on swimming. If you like football, it can be on football. He says the essay needs to be roughly one thousand words. This is a long essay, longer than you are used to. He advises that you choose your hobby or interest carefully. This is because, if you opt for something that you really like, it will be easier for you to write. The essay is important, the teacher says, because it will help him place you in the appropriate set for the next two years.
The teacher is a shrinking man with white hair coming out of his nostrils. He speaks slowly. A chronic over-explainer, he always assumes his requests are unusual and difficult to comprehend, and that his students are slow. He enunciates his words carefully – sending every one of his students off to sleep in no time at all.
‘Any questions?’ the teacher asks.
All around you, slack jaws and glassy eyes abound. Above you, a slightly broken fluorescent light emits a gentle hum and buzz – a fly is repeatedly ramming itself into it.
As soon as he explains the task, you know you want to write your essay on the Manuscript. If the teacher were to shut up for a second, you could get on and write it. By evening, you would be finished. You have dozens of paragraphs in you already. It wouldn’t take very long to write them. You suspect you’d get a good mark, knowing as much as you do on the subject. If you manage to write nice sentences, you will surely do quite well.
‘Do we have to write about a sport?’ one classmate with a squeaky voice asks.
The teacher shakes his head, evidently realising he has to explain the essay further, or maybe even all over again.
‘One thousand words,’ he says. ‘And you can write about a hobby or interest of your choice. Any hobby. Any interest. If you like knitting, you can write about knitting. If you like, um…’ he struggles to come up with another non-sport example ‘… metalwork, you can write about metalwork.’
Another child puts their hand up. ‘Does it have to be related to making stuff?’
The teacher winces. ‘Ah, no.’
‘Can it be on frogs?’ the same child asks.
‘Frogs?’ The teacher widens his eyes. It is only now that you see he looks like a frog. ‘If that is your hobby or interest, then yes, by all means, please do tell me about frogs. But make sure it’s an essay. Make sure you have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Make sure you have a thousand words and something to say.’
You are grateful when the school bell rings to signal the end of the day. You pack your bag quickly, get up, and leave without even a cursory farewell to anyone.
Even though the teacher said you have a few weeks to complete the essay, you decide you’ll get started on it tomorrow. You’re scheduled to be at the library then because it’s Saturday. But you’ll also be at the library the day after, because the day after is Sunday. You can get to work on the essay then. You can sit in the corner, in the quietest spot. You should be able to write it all out – your thoughts about the Manuscript, the product of your months upon months of research. You wonder how the teacher will react. You wonder if he will be cowed by the sudden emergence of your linguistic genius. You wonder if he will demand that you be sent up several years or else enrolled in university right away. You’ll have to make sure it’s well written, of course. But mostly, you’ll have to make sure it’s brilliant, insightful, perspicuous.
Further reading:
Who Let the Frogs Out?
Knit Happens: A Yarn About Life, Love, and Laughter