One of the beautiful things about my job is being able to see my son at school without having to peer over the fence and risk having the police called – yes that has happened before now and it was just a parent looking for their kiddie. Fuckwit.
No, for me I can insist that my pupils get on with their work quietly while I peer out the window at N running around the playground. Today he and a pal decided to join in the year 3 football match. Brave move. It’s a cross between death match wrestling and Watford town centre on a Friday night but without the lipstick. Even the teachers on playground duty stay out of it for fear they might not get out alive. Take this recent conversation for example between a teacher on playground duty and a child preparing to enter the fray…
Teacher (holding child by the throat): Have you got any knives, guns, knuckle dusters on you?
Child: No, no, no.
Teacher (smashing bottle against wall and thrusting jagged edge towards face of child): Well you’d better take this then, it’s a bit rough in there.
Anyway N managed to avoid a couple of nasty encounters before his pal saw the futility of his situation and buggered off to play on the train tracks (they’re not real train tracks by the way) though frankly if they had been it would have been significantly safer than the football match cum massacre that was occurring on the other side of the playground.
So they stuck him in goal. Bless him. No problem – all he had to do was stand there and shiver until the ball got punted down the pitch in his direction closely followed by a marauding pack of year 3 Uruk-Hai (tonight you will eat man flesh.)
And my son stood his ground to catch the ball and chuck it back down the pitch.
Actually he did nothing of the sort. If ever, in a single moment, proof was required that maybe Richard Dawkins had a point about genetics after all it was then. For just like his father would have done in the same situation N legged it around the back of the net muttering ‘bugger that’ under his breath as he went.
I was so proud.
N didn’t seem to care – he was already on his way to the train tracks to find his mate.
And the fighting Uruk-Hai didn’t even seem to notice.