24. The Gaming Console (4/6)
I remember a school parents evening. Mothers queueing up waiting to hear what teachers had to say about their offspring.
'I don't like teachers very much!' One said. I remember her. She looked like Marilyn Monroe. A huge head of blond curls, blood red lipstick with knee-length flowing dresses. The weirdest thing about her was that whether you met her at 7:30 AM or 10:30 PM, on a school day or at the week-end, she was always the same, always Marilyn, which often made me wonder if she was for real. Indeed she was.
'They are constantly moaning, never satisfied.' She went on talking about teachers. 'Our kids don't read Shakespeare. Our kids get the Taj Mahal and the Tower Bridge mixed up. Our kids can't spell. Our kids fight in the corridors. Our kids take the flower-beds for a jungle, their rulers for machetes. ... ' she sighed heavily yet in a sexy manner, just like Marilyn Monroe!
It was hard to listen to her as I kept expecting Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon to appear out of nowhere and I could not concentrate (just like my offspring in class no doubt). Still, I managed to make a mental note to ask my son about the flowers and the Taj Mahal later on that night.
She went on imitating the teacher. She was quite good at acting which was really quite spooky. She obviously was a regular attendee at parents evening because she went on:
'Does he practise his spelling? He has 10 words a day, you know? Does he read to you every night? He says he has lost his reading logbook. Are you aware of that? Does he own a dictionary? Does he read books? ...'
A deep male voice interrupted her flow of words:
'Good evening ladies'
All our heads swivelled to the left then followed the owner of the voice all the way to the last seat available. He sat down completely oblivious to Marilyn who had stopped talking. The mother next to me seized the opportunity:
'I don't know about the teachers ... yet I know what my problem is. How can I get him to do his homework when he has the PS4 sitting there. I don't get home till late ...'
I thought that was more honest. Easy to blame the teachers.
A chorus of agreement followed. Even Marilyn nodded and all the curls got agitated. Now I was expecting to see her skirts flare up any minute.
'Oh, we do not have that problem in our house!' Mr Cool piped up in his deep low sexy voice. I thought I could hear the notes of an Irish accent. I was also beginning to wonder if I really were attending a parents evening. Maybe I was at some surprise movie casting ... or maybe it was cocktail hour and I was having withdrawal symptoms ...
Had it been an other mother who had spoken thus there would have been a lot of sarcastic replies but the man was too cool and too good-looking for that, too sure of himself too as his male ego was enjoying this.
We all just kept staring at him.
'We simply do not own one anymore. I put it on the pavement outside our house one evening with a sign saying: PLEASE TAKE ME AWAY. In the morning it was gone.'
'I bet it was! I would have picked it up had I known!' someone said with a very strong Scottish accent.
'Yes, these things are quite pricey.'
An other Scot I thought to myself but kept quiet.
We were all still staring.
'Problem sorted. Now our sons play, talk to us at table, ask questions and do silly things'. Here I thought about the flowers and the Taj Mahal ...
'Sounds like a really good piece of advice.' I said.
'Yes.' he replied. 'Simple and efficient but ...' he winked, 'it takes b****.'
No-one said anything. Mr Cool, Mr Blue-Eyes-and-Sexy-Voice was grinning no doubt happy to show us all he was on top of everything the perfect father.
I went hone and said that to my husband.
'Too right he said. You think it's bad, you take it away. But please do not dump it on the pavement!'
From that evening I cannot remember what the teachers said about my son but this image of a PS4 on the pavement stuck in my mind.
'I don't like teachers very much!' One said. I remember her. She looked like Marilyn Monroe. A huge head of blond curls, blood red lipstick with knee-length flowing dresses. The weirdest thing about her was that whether you met her at 7:30 AM or 10:30 PM, on a school day or at the week-end, she was always the same, always Marilyn, which often made me wonder if she was for real. Indeed she was.
'They are constantly moaning, never satisfied.' She went on talking about teachers. 'Our kids don't read Shakespeare. Our kids get the Taj Mahal and the Tower Bridge mixed up. Our kids can't spell. Our kids fight in the corridors. Our kids take the flower-beds for a jungle, their rulers for machetes. ... ' she sighed heavily yet in a sexy manner, just like Marilyn Monroe!
It was hard to listen to her as I kept expecting Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon to appear out of nowhere and I could not concentrate (just like my offspring in class no doubt). Still, I managed to make a mental note to ask my son about the flowers and the Taj Mahal later on that night.
She went on imitating the teacher. She was quite good at acting which was really quite spooky. She obviously was a regular attendee at parents evening because she went on:
'Does he practise his spelling? He has 10 words a day, you know? Does he read to you every night? He says he has lost his reading logbook. Are you aware of that? Does he own a dictionary? Does he read books? ...'
A deep male voice interrupted her flow of words:
'Good evening ladies'
All our heads swivelled to the left then followed the owner of the voice all the way to the last seat available. He sat down completely oblivious to Marilyn who had stopped talking. The mother next to me seized the opportunity:
'I don't know about the teachers ... yet I know what my problem is. How can I get him to do his homework when he has the PS4 sitting there. I don't get home till late ...'
I thought that was more honest. Easy to blame the teachers.
A chorus of agreement followed. Even Marilyn nodded and all the curls got agitated. Now I was expecting to see her skirts flare up any minute.
'Oh, we do not have that problem in our house!' Mr Cool piped up in his deep low sexy voice. I thought I could hear the notes of an Irish accent. I was also beginning to wonder if I really were attending a parents evening. Maybe I was at some surprise movie casting ... or maybe it was cocktail hour and I was having withdrawal symptoms ...
Had it been an other mother who had spoken thus there would have been a lot of sarcastic replies but the man was too cool and too good-looking for that, too sure of himself too as his male ego was enjoying this.
We all just kept staring at him.
'We simply do not own one anymore. I put it on the pavement outside our house one evening with a sign saying: PLEASE TAKE ME AWAY. In the morning it was gone.'
'I bet it was! I would have picked it up had I known!' someone said with a very strong Scottish accent.
'Yes, these things are quite pricey.'
An other Scot I thought to myself but kept quiet.
We were all still staring.
'Problem sorted. Now our sons play, talk to us at table, ask questions and do silly things'. Here I thought about the flowers and the Taj Mahal ...
'Sounds like a really good piece of advice.' I said.
'Yes.' he replied. 'Simple and efficient but ...' he winked, 'it takes b****.'
No-one said anything. Mr Cool, Mr Blue-Eyes-and-Sexy-Voice was grinning no doubt happy to show us all he was on top of everything the perfect father.
I went hone and said that to my husband.
'Too right he said. You think it's bad, you take it away. But please do not dump it on the pavement!'
From that evening I cannot remember what the teachers said about my son but this image of a PS4 on the pavement stuck in my mind.
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