Pinky's Book Link

Showing posts with label Teachers and Teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teachers and Teaching. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Overheard in a Grade Four Classroom


My class of ten year olds was working industriously and in abnormal mute mode on some short division problems. I’d just beaten the Guinness Book of Records’ highest blood pressure reading and sacrificed a kidney whilst teaching them the arduous concept for the previous half hour.

Ah… I thought gratefully, “The Court Jester in Residence”, Seymour, was at home on his sick bed so hopefully I’d be able to grab a few precious minutes to mark some test papers.

Seymour, lovable as the boy is, tends to disrupt the quiet ambience of the room with his Tourette-like proclivity for tuneless whistling, humming and slapping his ruler/book/pencil on the desk in a water torture-like rhythm during work time. 


He also enjoys standing up at random moments and loudly opening with a knock-knock joke he’s just made up himself. (They’re never funny but the class curiously finds them to be.) 

You can understand why I was enjoying a day off.

It was after a only a few minutes I noticed Lucy, tentatively approaching my desk. N.Y.P.D. Lucy, who likes to ‘inform’ on members of the class involved in nefarious criminal activities.

“What’s up, Lucy?” I enquired patiently, hiding my mild irritation and noting her pursed mouth and outraged expression.

“Mrs Poinker,” she whispered in scandalised tones, “Sebastian licked my rubber because Cornelia dared him to do it and now I can’t use it anymore.”

“Sebastian!” I sighed. “Come here at once please! You too, Cornelia!”

Collaborative looks were exchanged between the two suspects as they scraped their chairs back and sidled up to my desk.

“Cornelia, did you dare Sebastian to lick Lucy’s rubber?” I asked, knowing how ridiculous this question would sound to a fly on the wall.

“Well…” stammered Claudia nervously, “I didn’t dare him. I just said that if he licked it then I’d give him two dollars.”

“That sounds like a dare to me. Where did you get the two dollars from?” I reciprocated in a slightly jaded tone, channelling Edna Krabappel and hoping to scare the truth out of them.

Sybylla gave it to me,” replied Cornelia, dobbing in her friend without a second’s hesitation.

“Sybylla! Come here please,” I Krabappelled in an even more raspy, ten pack a day style.

The impeccable Sybylla stood before me trembling like a frightened bird. Sybylla is NEVER in trouble. Her behaviour is usually unimpeachable.

“Did you give Claudia two dollars to dare Sebastian to lick Lucy’s rubber?”

“Yes, Mrs Poinker.”

“And where did you get the money from?” I questioned imperiously, eyebrows raised, peering over my glasses Edna-style.

“Mum gave it to me to buy an ice-block, Mrs Poinker.”

“And do you think, Sybylla,” I continued my cross-examination on a roll, “that your mother would be happy to know you wasted your two dollars on urging Sebastian to lick Lucy’s rubber?”

At this point I noticed my brand new teacher-aide had entered the room and was backed up against the wall staring at the scenario in alarm.

It probably hadn’t sounded that great when I think about it.
The remorseful trio were sent back to their seats and short division in contrition. 

I couldn’t help but admire their creativity in work-avoidance strategy… it was more entertaining than Seymour’s interminable low-pitched whistling anyway.


Friday, September 20, 2013

What do you do with 29 Drunken Sailors?


You’ll all be thrilled and electrified to know that Pinky’s class of ten year olds won first place with their pirate play in the local Eisteddfod today. Some of you may have read my post on the extensive effort I went to creating sea monster outfits and it just goes to show how industriousness=success.
How to Make a Sea Monster Costume!

Many years ago I wrote my Honours thesis on the benefits of using drama in the Primary school classroom and today was a perfect illustration of my theories bearing fruit.

The thirty minute bus trip to the theatre was akin to travelling with the crew of the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean. I thought the bus driver was going to pull over to the side of the road and make them all walk the plank when all twenty-nine of them chorused “What do you do with a drunken sailor” in over-excited harmony.

When it was announced we had won, their exuberant faces shone like stars and the bus trip home saw an even giddier rendition of the drunken sailor song and “We are the Champions!” was thrown into the mix as well. When they began loudly chanting “Mrs Poinker’s Awesome!” over and over I suddenly remembered why I LOVE being a teacher…the school holidays! (Just joking)

After arriving back at school the kids clambered off and raced ahead of me to the classroom. I expected to see them jumping around the class like mad things but when I arrived at the room they were sitting silently and unusually still at their desks. As I entered the room the entire class burst into thunderous applause.

How to make a teacher feel appreciated huh?

Anyway, I won’t hold you up tonight as firstly, it’s FRIDAY!! Secondly it’s the first day of the school holidays tomorrow… oh joy! And thirdly… Pinky’s off to have a well-earned drink! XX

Thursday, September 12, 2013

How to Make a Sea Monster Costume - Pinky Style


8:30 am: Pinky arrives at school in panic as realises needs two sea monster costumes by midday tomorrow for dress rehearsal.

10:30 am: Asks useless colleagues in staff room for suggestions.

Greggles: Garbage bags.

Kyles: You can get different coloured garbage bags now!

Elle: Just cut up some garbage bags, Pinky.

Bit tacky… thought self. Don’t think would ever contemplate employing something as pedestrian as garbage bag in design of costume. That's what happens when work with amateurs!

11:00 am: Interrogate students in class.

“Are you absolutely POSITIVE no one has a sea monster or any type of monster costume at home?”

“No, Mrs Poinker,” came chorus of unhelpful ten year olds.

3:00pm: Drive at speedy pace to Spotlight- hub of craft and costuming and savior of drama teachers.

No sea monster costumes to be seen… only ton of orange pumpkins with faces.

Sh#t a brick!

4:00 pm: Defeated, stagger down garbage bag aisle of supermarket perusing multi-coloured options. 


Still can’t bring self to lower lofty standards.

Drive home with sinking, depressed feeling in guts.

5:00 pm: Waste one hour looking at Twitter and Facebook.

6:00 pm: Pour glass of wine to help with agitated emotions. Wait for yellow muse to provide inspiration.

6: 30 pm: Muse being b#stard and hiding somewhere. 


Pour another glass of wine… still nothing.

6:40 pm: Check pantry for garbage bags. Find missing dog worming tablets but no garbage bags and now can’t drive to shop as over alcohol limit.

6:45 pm: Very handsome law student son arrives and agrees to go to shop for garbage bags if make him delicious hot dog.


Too easy.

7:00 pm: Enlist equally handsome husband to cut up garbage bags and pose as model. Husband also accepts hot dog as payment.


Result: Sea monster costume brought to you by Multix Garbage Bags and Hans American Hot Dogs.


Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Don't Mention the "E" Word!


The Mum of one of my students brought this fancy-pants gateau into work for me today. “I know it’s not your birthday for a couple of weeks but I thought I’d get in early,” she said.

So sweet and thoughtful of her… and it was easy to slice up into 29 pieces for the saucer-eyed, spellbound kids. In fact it was such a large cake there was plenty left over so I slapped it down on the staff room bench for the circling hyenas to devour. 


The last I saw of it, Kristen the grade three teacher was despondently scraping up the few remaining crumbs with a fork. “Three seconds earlier and I could have had a piece,” she pined bitterly, “three seconds...”

Cake is a passionately sought after commodity at school and God knows the teachers need sweetening up at the moment. Not only is it heading towards the end of a long term, but we’re hurtling at a chillingly rapid speed towards the dreaded “E” week… Eisteddfod week.

Every teacher in the school has been mandated to enter their class into the Choral Speaking section except, of course, the black sheep Pinky, who prefers to be a little more adventurously stupid and enter into the Dramatic Play section.

Why Pinky? I hear you sigh. What do you have against Choral Speaking?

The “2005 Great Choral Speaking Disgrace.”… that’s what I have against it.

There I was standing at the edge of the stage with my posse of rug rats ready to silently lead them up the stairs in an orderly fashion and corral them into the bleachers.
“Cripes! I hope you can’t see my green and pink striped knickers through my white pants!” I thought, absorbed in my own self-importance when I suddenly realised 500 people would be staring at my bum under harsh lighting for the next five minutes. 

The chairman rang his dingly bell and my little soldiers dutifully followed me on stage. Finally they were in position and standing perfectly still, faces beaming like pudding-faced angels… this was going to be great, I congratulated myself.

Proudly, I counted them in, one…two…three, confidently conducting my choir with aplomb when I suddenly heard the chairman ring his bell again and cough loudly into the microphone.

“Ahem… I think you may have forgotten someone…”

I peered back down the steps in absolute dismay and spotted little Declan scrabbling around the bottom, attempting to climb up them like a helpless puppy on a grand staircase… little Declan with special needs.

I WAS MORTIFIED.

...and his mother sitting in the audience didn’t look too impressed either.

So anyway, this year we’re doing a pirate play. My classroom is inundated with stripy shirts, plastic swords and eye patches. All I need to procure are two sea monster costumes for the dress rehearsal by Friday… in two days’ time.
Anyone have any ideas?

Thursday, August 29, 2013

North Queensland's Got Talent... The H Factor!

Introducing the gorgeous Harriet Dyer (in character)!

During the fifteen or so years I taught speech and drama and was the director of a youth theatre company, I would sometimes detect a particular spark, an extra glimmer of talent in one of the kids.

When you go on stage to collect your Oscar in years to come you’d better mention your old teacher!” I would solemnly command whilst they laughed and promised earnestly to remember me.

Well guess what? I’m thinking my dream may one day soon become a reality!

I first met her when she was two; sitting in a shopping trolley inspecting me suspiciously with her Siamese-blue eyes.





“She’s gorgeous!” I commented to her heavily pregnant mother, Dolly.

“She’s evil!” retorted Dolly, “A little witch.” Dolly was clearly well and truly over her pregnancy coupled with the exhausting effort of running after two young daughters.

The sapphire-eyed Harriet did look a bit of a handful though... I thought quietly.

Fast forward about six years and I was delighted to be consigned the job of teaching drama to all three of Dolly’s kids.

The eldest, a multi-talented Maddie, took on all the lead roles in our plays until finally she moved on to greener pastures allowing her diminutive sister Harriet, to rise from the ashes like a Phoenix, dazzling us all with her energy, vitality and unique ability.

Both girls could sing like nightingales and I’m guessing this talent sprang from their father’s genes as from my educated guess, Dolly shares the same singing ability as me… the ‘did someone just step on a cat’s tail?’ type of tonal quality.

Nevermind; the beauty genes originated from her mum.

For many years Dolly and I would tearfully watch Harriet climbing the stage stairs to collect award after accolade and, self-effacing to a fault, she always remembered to graciously thank the cast and crew. Since she left for the big smoke I’ve been following her evolving success in the Australian theatre and television industry from afar.

Scotto and I watched her vivacious, highly skilled lead performance in the Bell Shakespeare Company’s “Tartuffe” last year and I think our Harry may have learnt a few more tricks since treading the boards under Pinky’s direction.

Every time I see her in a national advertising campaign I’m straight on the blower to Dolly,

I saw her! I saw our Harry!... Did she really shave half her hair off?”

She is about to hit our screens in an upcoming television series, ‘Love Child’ and in a typically humble way credits her success to her local training in plays and musicals.

I’m telling you now… this stunning girl is going to win an Oscar and you heard it here first.
And you know what? I’ll be so proud I won’t even mind if she doesn’t mention me in her acceptance speech.

A link to the story about Harriet in the newspaper today... click here!

A link to one of Harriet's latest national advertisements...

A link to one of her equally talented sister Maddie's national advertisements! ...click here

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Lengths Teachers go to… Non-Seussical Style!


A report from the Cat in the Hat
It’s Book Week Parade!
Hooray! Hooray!
And who’s come to visit
Today? Today?


                              Rach, my teaching buddy!

We looked and we saw him!
The Cat in the Hat!
And he said to us,
“What are YOU staring at? 

I’ll show you some things
you've not seen before
Some things that
Will make you fall to the floor!”

Then all of a sudden

We saw! We saw!
A wondrous sight 
For sure! For sure!

It wasn’t a dog!

It wasn’t a bat!
It was ANOTHER 
Wonderful Cat in a Hat!

                                Rach and Shazza!

And who do we spy?
It’s Thing One and Thing Two.
Their shirts are red
Their hair is blue!

                                 Kaz and Kyles!

But fiddle-dee-dee
Double vision I’m sure
Look over there!
Thing Three and Thing Four!

                                   Tanya and Ash!

All we could do was to 
Look! Look! Look!
At all of the others
Who came from a book!

Wally was there…
Wally One, Two and Three

                                   Mrs, G. (D.P.) !

And a Coraline
I can see, see, see!

                               O'Reilly and Sandy!

And a Cinderella
Who’d had a bad night...


                                  Sue and Emma. W.!

And Tinkerbell…


                                    Tash!

And little Snow White!


                                      Christy-lee!

He's lean... he's green
and sometimes mean.
The Hungry Caterpillar
What a grub!
A permanent member of
The supper club!


                                    Emmsie

“I like to be here
Oh, I like it a lot!”
Said a Mr Gum,
“Although, I feel hot!”


                                  Greggles!

Look out! She’s splishy
Look out! She’s sploshy
Look out! It’s... 
Mrs Wishy Washy!


                                 Emm!

Emily Elizabeth
without her hound
and Esmerelda, 
No Hunchback to be found!


                                    Gilly and Bec!

“But that is not all.Oh, no.
That is not all…”
The cat cried loud
In a caterwaul.


Jessie James

In all his moustached glory
And another Jessie
Straight from Toy Story!


                                                      
                                                       Irish Joe and Elle!


There’s still something missing?
The witch and her cat!

We can’t have that!
No we can’t have that!
Why it’s Meg and Mog
No sign of a dog!
No sign of a bird
Or a fish or a frog!


                                Pinky and Sue the Teacher Librarian!


“There’s ANOTHER thing missing!
Oh what can it be?”
Said the cat, “Let me see!
“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Of course! – It’s Elvis!

But methinks it is CROOK!
Because Elvis 
never appeared 
In a children's book!


                                 Mr. G! Our Chaplain!

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Book Week Dress Up Parade and other days teachers dread

                                  

There are several days of the year when teachers are (more than usually) disinclined to drag themselves out of bed in the morning; days when we just know the kids are going to be even more highly strung than normal. 


Days when we are genuinely frightened to walk through those school gates.

Take rainy days for example. Our rainy season in Townsville coincides with the beginning of the school year providing ample opportunity for the under elevens to irrevocably ruin their brand new black leather shoes by ‘accidentally’ jumping in the ubiquitous puddles. 

The second there is a heavier than average deluge, twenty students will urgently need to go to the toilet so they can try out their massive umbrellas then return to the classroom sopping wet and shake themselves like puppies all over their brand new books. 

Lunchtimes are spent in the classroom where packets of Maggi noodles are spilt all over the carpet and crunched into the fibres with muddy feet. We don’t get lunch breaks on those days and one year the rainy season went on for two months. 
Teachers moved around the school like the walking dead; black shadows under their tortured eyes and twitching spasmodically like alcoholics going through withdrawal.

Windy days as well, are a teachers’ nightmare. I’m not sure why but the wind seems to blow right through the kids' ears stimulating the brain wiring and setting off unsavoury and unpredictable behaviour.

Tomorrow it’s dress-up day for National Book Week and we teachers nervously anticipate eight hundred over-excited, manic under-elevens to pour through the gates at eight-fifteen; outfitted as sword wielding pirates, fairies, various farm and native animals, aliens, Wimpy Kids and pretty much any book character they deem worthy of dressing up as. 

I can tell you this much, Pippi Longstocking, Little Red Riding Hood and Ben 10 will not be in any mood to learn their times tables.

Naturally the teachers are also expected to join in the craziness and wear a costume tomorrow and in my usual procrastinating style, I didn’t bother to attempt sourcing a costume until yesterday. I nicked into Spotlight on the way home from work and was devastated to discover empty costume racks. Apparently every single damn school in the city is holding a book character parade… who knew?

Sadly, all that remained on the rack was a ‘Naughty Nurse’, a ‘Sexy French Maid’ and an ‘Elvis’ costume.

Darn it! I thought. Totally inappropriate! 
Elvis never appeared in a children’s book...

After I’d paid for the nurse and maid costume, I noticed a discarded pair of devil’s horns sitting on the counter. Crap costumes are my specialty so I’m sure I’ll be able to transform them into something!
Guess who I’m going as?

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

What Teachers Really Want to Say!!


Hey guys! 
Look at my address bar above!!!
Pinky, (thanks to the handsome and techno-savvy Scotto) now has her very own website, www.pinkypoinker.com.au.
Yay!

Since January, Pinky Poinker has accrued over 
30 000 pageviews, which unfortunately has further encouraged me to continue with my silly posting and upgrade to my own domain. Thank you to each and every one of you for supporting me and reading my drivel every night. 

I seriously love youse all!

Tonight I have penned a little ditty I hope my colleagues (and anyone else for that matter) may find a bit funny... and true!



“Be quiet please!”

You hear me wheeze

“You’re way too loud

For a small sized crowd

Of children in a tiny room,

That one might easily assume

Ensconced inside this messy place

We have the entire human race.

I said, shut up! you rowdy mob

Don’t make your teacher rue her job

Shut your traps! I’ve had enough

I’m just about to get really tough.

Shut your cake holes! Zip your lips!

You need to stop and get to grips.

Shut your pie hole, naughty child.

Your teacher’s growing crazy wild!

This is a classroom, not a zoo

That screaming I will soon subdue

With a time out in the corner there!

All day you’ll stay, I just don’t care.

I’ll hang you out the window soon

I’ll leave you there all afternoon

I’ll get a muzzle in a sec...

And gag you all! Oh what the heck…

I know I can’t. There’s teacher rules

I have to use my management tools.

I can’t scream out or slap the child

Doesn’t matter how much I’m riled

There’s only one thing that’s approved

To ensure that the teacher is not removed

From her teaching duties and given the sack

We have to cast our eyes right to the back

Of the room and find the solitary soul,

The child who's not a complete butt-hole,

And point them out and declare out loud

To get the attention of the disorderly crowd

“Thank you so much to the boy I can see,

Who’s sitting and quietly listening to me.”

Thursday, August 8, 2013

What the hell are they teaching kids these days?


                                   Padraic, hard at work!


"Me and Matthew Arnold"

Last night, 8:00pm.

Padraic: “Mumma Bear! Can you help me with my poetry assignment? I know you love poetry…”

“Do I Padraic?” I eyed him cynically, “Do I really? When is it due?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Bloody typical, I thought. “You write the draft and I’ll take a look at it tomorrow,” I sighed in defeat.

With Padraic and Lulu both firing towards the end of grade twelve, I’m thinking this may be the very last assignment I will have to ‘help’ one of my kids with, EVER!

The ‘draft’ was waved in front of my coffee cup in the form of a USB stick this afternoon.

Hmmm… I mused. An essay on Canonical poet, Matthew Arnold’s poem, “Dover Beach”.

Canonical? What the hell is that? I skated through the mildewed labyrinth of my brain searching the rusting filing cabinets stuffed with the useless information I’ve collected over the past three decades.

Seems I’d lost the key to the skates and the filing cabinets.

The real issue however is this; Padraic’s career aspirations feature gaining employment as a Plumber’s apprentice. How is this assignment possibly going to assist him in fixing water pipes and unclogging S-bends?

Unless he applies for a job with a Canonical poet-loving plumber of course…

“Grogans Beached” by Pinky Smith.

The pipes have burst again.

The bowl is full, the poo lies fair

Upon the floor; in the next room the torch

Gleams and is gone; the wrench and pump stand

Glistening and moist, out in the backyard shed.

Come to the window, fetid is the foul air!

Only from the long line of spray

Where the pee meets the sun-bleached rug,

Listen! You hear the grating sound

Of flushing, when the pipes draw back, and fling

The brown turd, up the cistern,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous groaning slow, and bring

The eternal pile of floaters in.

So anyway… we had to write about the ‘gaps and silences’. Well the only gaps were the gaps in the information Padraic left out of his draft and the only silences were when I ordered Padraic to mute the television because I couldn’t concentrate with “Deal or No Deal” blaring in the background.

There was also a puzzling question about a “resistant reading”. The only resisting that occurred was me, resisting the urge to slap Padraic over the head with the task sheet when he became distracted by his mobile phone.

Reluctant as I am to ever give advice to ANYONE, I will impart two tips on helping your kids do their English assignments.

#Tip 1. Dumb it down big time.

#Tip 2. See above.

For a related post on homework horrors please click on…Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf

The real first verse of “Dover Beach”

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin.
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Friday, August 2, 2013

An Apology to My Deputy Principal


After my post the other day…A Letter to My Deputy Principal I feel (in the interests of future employment opportunities) it would perhaps be a prudent decision to apologise to my D.P.

Not for the outrageous demands I communicated in my letter mind you; but for the unflattering portrait of Yoda I used to represent our esteemed leader.

I have to say, our D.P. is actually a bit of a good sport (you know… the type that may or may not dance on tables at Christmas parties) and I do have one amusing story I can recap without fear of any damage to my financial security.

A few years ago I was having some difficulty in managing the errant behaviour of a particular student, Aloysius. I’d sent him up to the office to have a quiet conversation with our D.P., the stoic Mrs. G.

An admonished Aloysius indolently wandered back after his meeting with the D.P. while I was with the rest of the class playing sport, so I sent him back to the classroom to retrieve his hat.

After a few minutes, highly suspicious of the tardy return of Aloysius, I darted back to the classroom to check on his activity.

As I opened the classroom door Aloysius swiftly turned around; startled and eyes bulging like a large rabbit caught in the headlights. He was gripping my lolly jar; a myriad of Allen’s Snakes littered the floor around him and his chubby cheeks were swollen with multi-coloured lolly-juice streaming and dribbling out his stained mouth.

“Aloysius!” I gasped… incredulous at his audacity, “You’re really in for it now! We’re going back to see Mrs. G! Come on… spit out those lollies!”

Sensing defeat, he dutifully spat the mushed, gloopy lump of psychedelic moosh into his hands and followed me back up to the office.

“Mrs. G!” I feigned outrage for Aloysius’ benefit, “I just discovered Aloysius raiding my lolly jar when he was supposed to be getting his hat from the classroom.”

“Give those lollies to me!” Mrs. G. demanded, espying the grubby little hands clasped together tightly and encasing the illicit contraband.

And... before I could prevent it, the now confused Aloysius, plonked the seeping mass of gelatinous spit and confectionery into Mrs. G’s open hands.


The look on her face was priceless.


Wednesday, July 31, 2013

A Letter to my Deputy Principal


A couple of weeks ago my Deputy Principal walked past me in the staffroom, punched me in the arm and groused under her breath, “Read your blog, Pinky!

Oh crap! I thought scanning my brain in panic as to which particular rubbish I’d written about the night before.

Oh, that’s right… it was the post about playground duty... 


I didn’t think particular duties were so critical in the well-being of teachers!” she commented drily.

Yesterday a survey arrived via email from the Deputy, requesting that we teachers submit a form nominating which duties we find more palatable e.g.; after school, before school, first break, second break etc.

Who’d have dreamt in a million years that the largely ignored and pooh-poohed Pinky, could have so much influence over the boss? So… if you are reading this post tonight oh 'Mistress Yoda', I’ve a few other things you may like to look into.


Dear Deputy Principal,
# If you could source rose petals for the staff toilet, peach-coloured tissues, and designer bath towels in peach too…(because they match my complexion) that would be well… just peachy!

# Could each classroom be equipped with bottled Evian, vanilla room spray and a dozen white roses please?

# If I happen to be late for work I’d like you to overlook it as ‘creative idiosyncrasy’.

# I request that before 8:00 am no one looks at me (especially the students), walks near me, or takes my picture.

# I would like all the doorknobs in the school disinfected and the air-conditioning filters cleaned daily.

# In staff meetings I would like a large bowl of M&Ms (but make sure you remove all of the brown ones).

# I’d like “Do Not Disturb !!!!!!!!!” signs to be put up on our classroom doors at 2:50pm every afternoon.

# A chauffeur to drive me home after happy hour in the staffroom on Friday afternoons per favore. The chauffeur must have strict instructions not to talk to me or stare at me in the rear vision mirror. (A police escort is optional)

# I’d like a special room assigned to me in which to store my wigs.

# I request that any ‘distinct’ smells be kept well away from me at all times…including those emanating from the boys’ toilet.

And finally…

# A supply of Moet Chandon champagne, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, and some condoms in our pigeon holes every Monday morning sil vous plait (I’ll use the condoms as water bombs to throw at O’Reilly when he makes bad jokes in the staff room).

Have I gone too far this time????




Friday, July 26, 2013

The Secret Lives of Grandparents

                                      

Today a special assembly was held at school where we joyously celebrated the role of grandparents in our community. Hundreds of the students’ devoted grandparents turned up for the festivities (as well as three or four ambulances on standby in case something disagreeable occurred; for example someone breaking a hip or something). 


No they didn’t.

 I just made that up and I’ve a bit of gall to joke about it because it probably won’t be all that long before I’m a granny myself.

In order to decorate our massive shelter shed where the assembly was to be held, one of our crazy deputy principals came up with the unusual idea of assigning each teacher with the task of having their class create 'effigies' in the shape and style of grandparents.

When I think of effigies I think of sticking needles into voodoo dolls made of clothes pegs or straw representations of men being chucked into a bonfire and other such malevolent and pagan practices. There was none of that though. 


Our effigies were strung up on lengths of rope.

I must admit when first informed of this concept, the mental picture I formed in my head was on the macabre side. 

'What is the deputy thinking?' I thought. Has she finally done one too many after-school bus duties in the blistering sun and cracked it?

The end result however, was surprisingly colourful and novel.

What I found to be truly amusing though were two things; the different takes on how the old and wrinklies appear to the kids and how committed to the task each individual teacher had been.

Some teachers went all out and frankly their competitiveness is to be praised. What greater opportunity to display their artistic talent and leave the rest of us looking like we’d held the paintbrush between our toes? Bloody exhibitionists.

Body Building Grandma. 

Also visits the solarium way too often and drinks a lot of protein shakes.

Trendy Granddad. 

Belongs to the golf club, the wine and cheese club, the model train club and writes a lot of letters to the editor.

Bogan Grandad- wearing thongs.

Gives the grandkids Wet Willies, drinks beer, thinks Russell Crowe is a pansy and won't let anyone talk when the footy is on the telly.


Divorced Granddad

Has gone back to Uni to do an arts degree and hangs around with the young folk.
Recently began to grow his own vegetables. 


Glamorous Divorcee Grandma 

Uses Botox and fillers, goes to nightclubs and refuses to babysit the grandkids.
Fave movie, "Shirley Valentine".
Wants to meet a young Greek spunk.  


Fabulous! Granddad.

Fave movie, "The Birdcage"... uses jazz hands when excited.


Living in the Past Grandma

Doesn't leave the house without a full face of make-up and support hose stockings. Fave movie; "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" (loves Elizabeth Taylor).


Conservative Grandma

Off to Bingo followed by Morning Melodies.
Plays lawn bowls with the girls every Tuesday.


Daggy Granddad

Smells like mothballs and old farts.
Makes lame jokes at Christmas dinner too.


War Veteran Granddad.

(Note: only has one arm)
Stays on the back veranda listening to the wireless and never comes out to talk to anyone.


Grey Nomad Grandparents

I wouldn't be taking candy from these two. They look a bit too nice. I bet they drive an unmarked camper van.


Ex-Used Car Salesman Granddad

Takes his false teeth out and tries to bite you with them. Favourite joke... "Pull my finger".



Slutty Grandma! 

Mutton dressed as lamb (she even has a camel toe!)
Smokes outside the school gate, drinks rum and cokes and 
tells the grandkids to call her Debbie.




Freakin Scary Grandma!!!

Has four daughters-in-law and hates all of them. 
No-one visits her on account of her three Rottweilers.


This is what the 'gallows' looked like.



Two of them were so excited they lost their heads so we brought them into the staff room for a nice cup of tea.

And that was my day :)

PS: Guess which one belonged to Pinky's class?