On Monday mornings when the kids come in to class I ask them all, one at a time, to tell me one thing they did on the weekend.
I can see they’re all busting a gut to talk and it cuts down the chatter a bit later on when they have to do actual work.
Most of the things they tell me are complete rubbish.
"Tell me what you did on the weekend, Cornelius,” I’ll ask, as he waves his arm in the air with the exuberance of a performing seal hyped up on Cocopops.
“I went to England,” he crows, turning around in his seat to see who he’s impressed with his cosmopolitan news.
“You went to England for the weekend? That’s a long way to go,” I reply, sighing inwardly because it’s not the first time he’s told me this. “Did you go on a plane or a ship, Cornelius?”
He cocks his head to one side as if I’m an idiot. “No. Dad drove us and my brother cut his foot on a can and had to get stitches.” They love the gory stuff.
“Did you actually go to England or Ingham?” I ask.
I know he means, Ingham (a small town 100 kilometres up the road from here because... somehow I just know).
“England,” he repeats emphatically.
“Was it snowing?” I ask in a droll, jaded voice.
“No, Mrs Poinker,” he says with a puzzled expression. “But Dad caught a really big fish!”
“And what did you do on the weekend, Calpurnia?” I ask a little girl in the front row who’s stabbing holes in her rubber with a pencil. I can see she’s cut her own fringe again, this time it’s so short I suspect she took to it with a razor.
“I went killing crocodiles with Dad,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “There’s a big croc on the banks of the creek near our house. It ate a man last week, so Dad said we had to kill it.”
‘Funny,’ I think. ‘I haven’t seen any reports of a man being eaten by a crocodile in this vicinity lately.’
“It’s illegal to kill crocodiles!” Malvolio interrupts. “They’re protectorated!”
“That’s true, Calpurnia,” I say, whilst frowning at Malvolio for his rude interuption and thinking about how I should book in for a Botox injection between my eyebrows before Christmas and wondering if the clinic has any ‘teacher specials’ available for the holiday season.
“And what did you get up to this weekend, Malvolio?” I enquire, knowing full well what his answer will be.
“I went on Mortal Kombat all weekend!” he exclaims. “I killed six thousand monsters and maimed thirty thousand soldiers. My name is KillDeathBlood 1973 and I’m a legend!”
Now that I can believe.
“I went killing crocodiles with Dad,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “There’s a big croc on the banks of the creek near our house. It ate a man last week, so Dad said we had to kill it.”
‘Funny,’ I think. ‘I haven’t seen any reports of a man being eaten by a crocodile in this vicinity lately.’
“It’s illegal to kill crocodiles!” Malvolio interrupts. “They’re protectorated!”
“That’s true, Calpurnia,” I say, whilst frowning at Malvolio for his rude interuption and thinking about how I should book in for a Botox injection between my eyebrows before Christmas and wondering if the clinic has any ‘teacher specials’ available for the holiday season.
“And what did you get up to this weekend, Malvolio?” I enquire, knowing full well what his answer will be.
“I went on Mortal Kombat all weekend!” he exclaims. “I killed six thousand monsters and maimed thirty thousand soldiers. My name is KillDeathBlood 1973 and I’m a legend!”
Now that I can believe.
