It's week two, and Sasha is formalising a radical new approach to job-sharing, ditching that old cliched one person at a time system in favour of the two of us doing the same job simultaneously.
She plans my recorder lessons and so do I, and then we attempt to teach the simultaneously which I can see might prove a little stressful in the weeks to come.
This week, we arrive together. "What are you planning for today?" she asks, as we survey the children. One boy gently rocks his recorder in a hammock made from its case; another is producing staccato volleys of notes, each one an ear-drum popper while a third has dismantled and re-assembled his recorder several times and is now, with an air of mild bewilderment, trying to blow into the wrong end.
Quickly, I attempt a bit of carpe diem with a note recognition quiz but it's too late. Sasha has already advanced on the blackboard, pinned up a giant bit of music and then compelled the class to play it.
She tries to fob me off by giving me a baton and asking me to point out the notes as she plays them, but can't resist joining in. Soon it's turned into a counting competition for two mad music teachers, one wearing an expression of sullen resentment.
One of the boys comes up to me. "I've got something caught between my teeth," he complains. I suspect it may be the recorder he was trying so hard to swallow earlier on. He shoves a grimy finger into his mouth so he can show me exactly where the problem is.
"It's making me embarrassed," he mumbles. "Last time, it was so big the dentist had to get it out with a bit of wire."
As the hymn we were singing earlier has it: "Look around! Look around! There's beauty ev'rywhere." Yes, indeedy.
"You've got a good rapport with the children," says Sasha, beaming that smile again. I beam back. Little does she realise that today's 360 degree bonhomie is a desperate attempt to win them over to my side so they will support my plea of self-defence when I am finally compelled to beat her to death with my recorder while maintaining the correct left hand fingering and producing a perfect 't' sound as I deliver the mortal blow.
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8 comments:
That would be terrifically hard to do and quite news worthy. We may even hear about that in the Netherlands, You will have your moment of infamy anyway then and quite a long prison sentence. I wonder if you would be allowed to continue your blog there? It would give a whole new dimension to your stories.
You are so funny. And Sasha is so irritating.
You've got my support on this one OM - don't the Americans have a term for this; justifiable homicide, or something?
I'm just waiting for the newspaper headline:
'Teacher bludgeoned by recorder wielding maniac - kids toot with glee.'
And I'm a bit worried about the poor little chap - what on earth has he got stuck in his teeth?Erm...actually...do I really want to know? I'm not so sure...
Mya x
Oh nooooooo! I work with someone very similar, does this mean that they are breeding as a species?
Sweet I: I'll ask to be posted to a Dutch prison and perhaps you'll visit me?
Charlotte: She is, isn't she? And not alone
Potty Mummy: Right, I'm going to suggest she goes for a long holiday in the US. Perhaps somebody else will do the job for me.
Mya: I didn't look, either. I just couldn't. Sorry. But I'm sure he'll tell me.
DJK: I've met very similar people in other places, too. I think it's probably a government scheme to terrify us.
OM - you're not allowed to export those types of people here to the U.S. -- we have too many of our own!! I'm seriously hopefully that one of the more well-known pharmaceutical companies will release a rather effective personality-altering drug to help stave off this epidemic. Until then, I'm happy to FedEx you your own, personalized, silver cellphone flask to see you through this current crisis.
Molly Gras: I should thought. Right, I'm tearing up the forms right now.... I had no idea there was such a large colony. Did they escape from the wild?
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