Alice has her work cut out when playground mayhem looms... “Eeny, meeny, miney, mo. Catch a ni—” “Tommy!” “Yes, Miss?” “You mustn’t say that word.” “Which word, Miss?” “Mmmm, err, the ‘n’ word.” Alice took a deep breath and scanned the faces in Tommy’s group, pausing on Maya’s wide-eyed curiosity. How hurtful if Tommy used a horrid racial slur in front of her, an African-American from Galveston, Texas? She’d know what it meant. Alice adjusted the string on the whistle around her neck. They didn’t cover this stuff in teacher training college. And all the kids were staring. Half-a-dozen seven-going-on-eight-year-olds in floppy sun hats and matching school tee-shirts demanding an explanation. Because teachers had all the answers and that’s what they’d been told she was when she was introduced to the class. The other Alfriston Primary kids had paused their recess hijinks en masse to see who was in trouble with the ‘pracky’. Drawn by the innate sense children had for a train wreck about to happen. “It’s a bad word,” Alice said. “People used to call people that name, but it’s very offensive.” She blinked and carefully raised her eyes above Maya’s head. There, that should do it. Move on, children. Nothing to see here. Alice had never imagined people who barely came up to her waist could be so intimidating until she started the first classroom practical stint of her teacher training, seven days before. Oh, goodness, ‘offensive’ might be a bit above Tommy’s Year Three vocabulary. Rooky error. “When you say the ‘n’ word,” Alice tried, “it makes people feel bullied and hurt.” “Oh, yeah, Miss.” Tommy nodded, eager to help. “Like when Holden called Zara a retard.” “Yes … Nooo!” How did she get into this? Anyhow, time to withdraw before one of her supervisors heard the conversation and stamped her assessment with another black mark. Way to blow your career before it started. “Well, anyway. I think you’ve got the idea. You won’t use that word again, will you, Tommy?” “No, Miss.” “Good.” Alice turned away. Relieved. “But, Miss?” Oh, God. “Yes, Tommy?” “We have to choose who’s ‘it’. What can I say if I can’t say ‘nibbler’?” Alice jolted. Cast around urgently to see who’d heard. He said it. Right out loud. Hang on… “Nibbler?” “Yeah, Miss. Oh, sorry.” He slapped his fingers over his mouth. “I said it, didn’t I?” All the children giggled. Not just Tommy’s friends, everyone in earshot. Tommy grinned. “You said it too.” The kids roared. “Yes, well.” How the crap did one restore their dignity with Year Threes when they’d made a fool of themselves by confusing a Harry Potter reference with the ‘n’ word? This definitely called for a teaching course unit. She’d raise the subject with her uni tutors. All the kids were looking at her. The spooky, expectant stare. It made her jumpy the way they did that. All those little eyes and sweaty fringes drove everything out of her brain. “Okay, well, let’s see? What did we used to say when I was at school?” “I’ve got one. Dip, dip, dog sh—” “Ben!” “Ship? What’s wrong with ship, Miss? Oh, I get it. You don’t say ship, you say shi—” “No, Ben, No. You say ship. That’s right. I’m sorry now.” Better. Talk to them as peers. Respect their intelligence. “I assumed you were going to say another word and assume makes an… yeah, anyway.” Maya edged in, all eager to please and bond. Delightful child. “What did you used to say when you were small, Miss Biongiorno?” Tommy’s gang all stepped in with Maya. Adoring eyes bathing their mentor. This was how Alice dreamed teaching would be. Surrounded by wondering acolytes eager to learn. Okay, Alfriston Primary junior playground wasn’t a library, but these kids sought knowledge, and Alice had the goods. “How about this? Eeny, meeny, mackerracka, rare eye, dominacker, chicapocka, lolly popper, om, bomb, boosh.” “That’s awesome,” Maya said. “Do that one, Tommy.” “Okay.” With half an eye on Alice, he began, jabbing his finger at each of his friends in turn. “Eeny, meeny, mackerracka…” “Rare eye,” Alice whispered. “Got it, rare eye…” Across the sea of bobbing heads, Mr Parker strode from his office, led by Ellie Lucas, a well-known teacher’s pet and serial snitch. The crowd parted in the face of the headmaster’s terrifying three-piece suit. Well, he terrified Alice, anyway. Coming to the rescue or to bury her. It made no difference. His permanent frown turned Alice to jelly. Maybe not this time. For once she could swallow down the lump his presence lodged in her throat. At last. Mr Parker would find his pracky engaged in actual, honest to goodness education. She could feel that assessment score ticking up. “…boosh.” Tommy came to a halt with his finger pointed at Maya. “That’s no good,” Ben said. “No,” said Tommy. “What’s wrong?” Alice asked. “Maya’s a girl.” Oh, wow, sexism. Just as Mr Parker hovered at her elbow. “The ‘it’ has to be a boy,” Tommy said. Reverse sexism, is that a thing? “What’s going on here?” Mr Parker boomed. Did he have to always project as if he were addressing school assembly? “Ellie tells me—” I bet she does, the dobber. “Oh, headmaster. It’s all under control. A bit of a learning opportunity, actually. I just saw a small chance to apply lessons in a recreational situation.” “Yeah,” said Tommy. “Miss Biongiorno is teaching us how to play ‘Hunt the B*&#h’.” Banner image by Tahir Osman via Pixel Comments are closed.
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AuthorT.J. Beach, would-be megaselling author Archives
January 2025
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