One of my more… ‘buoyant’ students, 10 year old Darius, returned from a six week sojourn in Europe the other day.
A chipper postcard from Paris preceded his re-entry into the classroom by a mere day. And there was I imagining I still had a few more days reprieve.
C’est la vie, as they say in Frenchy land.
He brought his iPad to school today in order to accessorise his enthralling anecdotes at Show and Tell time with photographs.
“Can you see Big Ben in this picture, Mrs Poinker?” he shouted at me whilst standing in front of the class holding up his iPad.
He brought his iPad to school today in order to accessorise his enthralling anecdotes at Show and Tell time with photographs.
“Can you see Big Ben in this picture, Mrs Poinker?” he shouted at me whilst standing in front of the class holding up his iPad.
“Yes, Darius,” I muttered, not suspecting the cunning trick up his sleeve. “It’s there!” I continued, pointing at the celebrated clock.
“Nup!” he chortled in glee. “That’s not Big Ben, Mrs Poinker. The bell inside the clock is Big Ben.”
Gazumped by the wily Darius. Bad start to the day.
“You know why they called it Big Ben, Mrs Poinker?” he resumed his attempts to lampoon his teacher.
“No, I don’t Darius. Why is it called Big Ben?”
Might as well play along, I thought.
“Well…” he paused a beat, comedic timing as sharp as one of the lead pencils on my desk. “The man who built it was called Big Richard. But they couldn’t exactly call it Big Richard could they?”
He burst into maniacal laughter and so did the rest of the class.
I know they didn’t get it.
“Well…” he paused a beat, comedic timing as sharp as one of the lead pencils on my desk. “The man who built it was called Big Richard. But they couldn’t exactly call it Big Richard could they?”
He burst into maniacal laughter and so did the rest of the class.
I know they didn’t get it.
Hell, it took me a few seconds.
I was sitting at my desk so I Googled it immediately.
Nup. No mention of Big Richard.
“Who told you it was named after Big Richard?” I challenged Darius. “Was it the funny tour guide?”
“How did you know that Mrs Poinker?” his eyes like saucers.
“Just a hunch.”
Next he showed a picture of a sign post.
“Oh! A sign pointing to Buckingham Palace where the Queen lives,” I enthused.
Nup. No mention of Big Richard.
“Who told you it was named after Big Richard?” I challenged Darius. “Was it the funny tour guide?”
“How did you know that Mrs Poinker?” his eyes like saucers.
“Just a hunch.”
Next he showed a picture of a sign post.
“Oh! A sign pointing to Buckingham Palace where the Queen lives,” I enthused.
“Nah, Mrs Poinker,” Darius protested. “It says Public Toilets!”
The class erupted into hysterical mirth once again.
“And here are two horse bums!” he shrieked, causing a relentless crescendo of hilarity in the room.
It was imperative I regain control of my class.
“So, what was the best thing you did on your holiday, Darius?” I asked in a loud tone and a brittle attempt to bring order to the kangaroo court.
“Well, Phantom of the Opera was pretty good,” he mused.
I felt a tinge of envy. I’ve never seen bloody Phantom of the Opera in Her Majesty’s Theatre, London.
“I think the ice cream was the best part,” he added thoughtfully. “I had chocolate.”
Darius’ parents should have taken me on their holiday with them instead of him. It was wasted on him and besides, I could do with the break.
