The exercise:
Write about: the school.
Any sort of school at all, no need to write about a real one.
Kat and I finally got around to transplanting the last of our onions, leeks, and shallots into the garden this morning. We didn't start nearly as many as we did last year, and that's a good thing - we ended up with a ridiculous amount last fall.
The weather is expected to get a little wet tomorrow so it's looking like a get indoor things done kind of day. Which is fine, because I've been ignoring that stuff for a while now.
Mine:
There is wisdom in my walls. That must be why the children are always leaning against them at every opportunity. Learning through osmosis.
Countless lessons have been collected by these chalkboard brushes. I understand that the little ones think that they can consume every scrap of education that they can get their tiny fingers on, but I wish they wouldn't try to eat those dusty things. The teaches must watch them more closely.
The students sit at their desks and soak it all in, class after class, day after day, year after year. They cherish their time with me, I know it. I would, however, prefer if they could refrain from leaving notes for future generations to find carved into their desktops. Where do they get those knives, anyway?
My cooks create nutritious meals in my cafeteria. Brain food for blossoming minds, feeding their imaginations and bellies at the same time. The food fights concern me, I must admit. So much wasted effort in the kitchens beforehand, so much work for my janitors afterward.
Still, I wouldn't want to be any other sort of building. Lasting friendships and memories are made here. They will never forget me.
Even if most of them will not look back on me with fondness, they will think of me.
2 comments:
An excellent choice of vegetables, all from the same family aren't they? Though I'm disappointed that there's no broccoleek in there ;-)
I like that you chose to write from the perspective of the school itself, and that you've got such well-behaved children attending it (well, perhaps bar the food-fights!) Based on BBC news, attending school in London appears to be the easiest way to get yourself stabbed, bullied, or generally loathed. I'm a little disturbed that the kids are eating the chalkboard brushes though. Chalk I could understand, but the erasers?? Canadian kids must be hardcore :)
The school
Rabbi Hundfarbig stepped into the classroom. They borrowed the science lab from a local school for this class; normally the Rabbi-school used rooms in the local Mosque. They had had their own rooms in the synagogue, but the recent recession had required a good deal of community spirit and cooperation and the two religious groups had agreed that they could serve their congregations better by working together than by fighting over who had the right understanding (and direct line) to God.
The bris class was already in progress, and the various student rabbis had divided themselves up into pairs, one pair per bench, and were studiously bent over the hotdogs that Rabbi Hundfarbig's assistant (his son, as he didn't need paying) had distributed. The Rabbi started at the bench nearest the door, and checked technique, steadiness of hand, and overall squeamishness.
All was going well until he reached the back of the room, whereupon his shout could be heard all the way out to the back of the playground.
"A deli slicer--" the whine of the slicer's motor interrupted him briefly "--not acceptable for a bris! I don't care if it has come from a kosher deli!"
Greg - yeah, we grouped them all together in the garden for that reason. Makes crop rotation a little easier.
Great setup in yours and good lord, that ending!
Alex - welcome to the blog! I hope you find it useful :)
Excellent work here. If this isn't born from real life experience then I'm even more impressed. And if it is, it is extremely well conveyed.
Looking forward to seeing more of your writing here, should you choose to share it :)
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