Sunday April 3rd, 2011

The exercise:

Let us write something which takes place in: the classroom.

After doing some work in the yard this morning, Kat and I taught our second art, music, and yoga class this afternoon. We'd tried to start up a weekly series earlier in the year but there wasn't enough interest, so we're trying a monthly class. We had five students today and I think it went very well.

And I actually got paid to teach. So. Strange.


"All right, who would like to go next?" Mrs. Brown asked as she surveyed her classroom from behind her desk. She took a long sip of 'coffee' to eradicate the memory of the last presentation - Michael's dad had droned on about accounting for what felt like five days - and waited for a volunteer. She was in no rush to continue.

"My dad will!" Simon called from the back of the room. "Won't you, dad?"

"If I must," Henri replied, heaving himself to his feet and lighting a cigarette.

"I'll have to ask you not to -" Mrs. Brown began as he made his way to the front but he didn't let her finish.

"While my job is far more interesting than that last windbag's," he said, blowing smoke out his nostrils, "I promise not to go over time." A slight pause, then a cheeky wink. "I'd hate to make us late for our date."

"Mister -"

"Please, call me Henri. Although by my watch," he actually glanced at his wrist for full effect, "you'll be calling me Big Daddy in less than two hours."

"I have never been so -"

"Of course you haven't. But try to keep your skirt on just a little longer - there are children present." Another wink, then he turned to face his son's classmates and their parents. He pulled out his cell phone and held it up for all to see. "So. Who wants to watch me fire my secretary?"


Greg said...

Art, music and yoga? I can see how any two of them would fit together, but getting all three in is puzzling me a little. I'm guessing that Kat's doing the yoga part and you're sorting the music though :) Tell me more!
Oh, this was the perfect place for Henri to reappear! (Although part of me wonders what poor women agreed to bear his child, and when he fired her.) Very, very funny, and I might just have to add Henri to my list of role models! Can I watch as he fires his secretary please?

In the classroom
My editor claims she misread the press release and that she thought this was a new restaurant with an educational theme. The Blonde is refusing to talk to me, at least until I buy her something from Hermès. And on my writing desk, made from wood from the last gallows to stand where Marble Arch now is, is a letter of complaint from the cookery school that uses legal terms like they know what they mean.
I arrived late, because when was the last time a restaurant worth going to had a table ready for the time of your reservation? If they did that, you wouldn't have to spend half an hour at the bar picking through inferior champagnes and strange, sweet alcoholic concoctions made by a barman who had a previous life as a fairground barker (I'm thinking of you, Letrice!) The Blonde had arrived on time and was struggling with the teacher who was trying to get her to wear an apron.
"No!" she screamed, swiping her nails across the teacher's face. "This is the coat that Coco Chanel died in! It will not be sullied by your polyester crap!"
I disengaged the pair, and found my desk.
"Le cuisine maîgré," said the teacher, dabbing at her eyes and gesturing at the row of vegetables on the table. "We shall start by chopping onions, parsnips and swede."
The woman on the table next to me attempted to swipe an onion, and my knife missed her wrist by half-an-inch. The Blonde giggled, and the rest of the lesson is probably best forgotten. Suffice it to say that little got cooked, and what got chopped probably wasn't edible.

morganna said...

Marc, you had me laughing at your scene, and Greg, yours is too awful (and funny) for words. I don't think I can top you two today, so I'm not even going to try.

But Marc, can I watch Henri fire his secretary, too? Pretty please? :)

Marc said...

Greg - it's restorative yoga, hand drumming, and art therapy combined into one class. It's about discovering and releasing creativity in a safe environment - it's quite neat, actually. I wouldn't mind being a student :P

After reading your comment I thought of a way to explain Henri's son. I'll have to find a prompt that will allow me to share it :D

Great imagery and characters in your piece. I can't pick a favorite bit.

Morganna - glad you liked it :)

I'll see what I can do about the public firing.