by James Gault
So when you told me of the epidemic of minor technical faults in your classroom, and the succession of young Adonises who have been arriving to fix them, I wasn’t the least surprised. That feeling of thirty pairs of wide-open eyes watching expectantly every aspect of your interaction with these workmen was, unfortunately, entirely justified. Your whole class must be in on it. I only hope you treated all of the repairmen with cool reserve, or you are likely to find yourself sharing an unwanted candlelit dinner with someone whose intellect is stretched by changing the wires in an electrical plug. Tania is nothing if not effective.
So what can you do about it? The problem is that Tania and Honza seem to have embarked on a pre-pubescent romantic relationship which, deprived of the usual hormonal influences, seems to have all the signs of remaining pleasant and stable for some time. In a couple of years or so, the hormones will no doubt kick in, the quarrels and tears will follow, and they’ll soon forget about sharing their anguish with anyone else. But, in the meantime, can you stand being presented with a stream of suitors chosen by eager early teenagers, however well meaning? Worse, will you be able to sustain your sanity when your every romantic endeavour is closely scrutinised by thirty expectant fans?
I’m afraid the only thing to do is to have a quick look round, find someone vaguely suitable quickly, and marry him right away. Inviting the thirty troublemakers to form a guard of honour at the wedding should then satisfy the worst of their curiosity, and if you could arrange a baby fairly soon after, this will almost be guaranteed to bring you peace.
My wife and I are looking forward to an invitation to the celebration. It will be the first Czech wedding we have attended.
Good luck with the Shakespeare,
Tania’s other teacher,
J.
Chapter 8 A plea for help
Dear Problem Page,
You cannot begin to imagine how painful it is for me to be reduced to writing this letter. I am a teacher, a pedagogue, an instructor, a trainer, a mentor, a purveyor of information, ideas, and counsel to those younger and less intelligent than myself, (which, on both counts, is most of the population). Giving advice is my trade, and may I say also my great strength, and I am distraught to find I have sunk so low that I have to ask you for some. What can have brought me to such a sorry state?
‘What’ is in fact a ‘who’ and it is one of my students, a twelve year old girl who is still bright, intelligent, hard-working and perceptive, and who was, before, also fun and a pleasure to teach. Before? Before what? Before Honza, that’s what! Or, more correctly, that’s who!
If I tell you that Tania, ‘B.H.’, arranged successfully to keep both parents in hospital continuously for six weeks, to throw the whole of the Czech police force into disarray, to capture a pair of top-ranking mafia hoodlums more or less single-handedly, and to make page one of the major dailies and the prime-time TV news, you will understand that we are talking here of a girl with considerable talent who was never boring to teach.
But all of this, sadly, is history. Tania has found romance, and, quite frankly, it’s nauseating. And boring! Never before did I stop to consider what the world would be like without a little bit of hate. To be honest, it seemed to me that such a scenario was so unrealistic and improbable that the contemplation of it would be a total waste of time, even for a philosophy professor in need of distraction. Boy, how my eyes have been opened!
Have you ever, for example, tried to have a meaningful, intelligent conversation with
someone who smiles sweetly all the time and agrees with everything you say? Such conversations tend to be short, and I can only add mercifully short. You could count on Tania ’B.H.’ for a good going argument. I don’t know how many more soporific lessons I will be able to stand with Tania ‘A.H.’ agreeing contendedly to the most outrageous ideas I put forward.
But boredom isn’t the worst thing. She now thinks she’s absolutely perfect, and she’s so sanctimonious about it. She and Honza worship each other and she thinks this is the norm for a relationship. She has even gone so far to suggest, with a winsome smile of course, that perhaps I don’t pay enough attention to my wife. Who does she think she is, giving me advice? Who’s the teacher here, anyway? O.K., so I forgot my wife’s birthday, once. The other thirty five times I remembered don’t count?
And I’m not the only one suffering. Her parents are having a hard time too. Can you imagine a man and wife, sitting quietly on the sofa, a respectable distance apart for a middle-aged married couple, when their daughter creeps up behind them, drapes the husband’s arm over the wife’s shoulder, and stares at them as if she’s posing for a portrait of the Madonna? Or can you appreciate how irritating it is for a working husband not to be able to go to work in the morning without being reminded to ‘kiss Mum goodbye’?
Her school teacher is also in the firing line. She used to be a typical modern single girl – happy, popular, outgoing. Now, she’s practically a recluse. She makes her way along the street, from lamppost to lamppost, her eyes darting wildly from side to side, fearful of a meeting with one of her pupils. She’s met every big brother, uncle, and friend of my father, all of whom are ‘single, just like you miss’. The worst, of course, are the ‘big sister’s ex-boyfriends’. Does she look like the kind of girl who needs someone else’s hand-me-downs?
Frankly, all of this has to stop, and this is where you come in. I’m not asking you to break up the great love affair, but could you at least get them to keep it to themselves.
If you do this small thing for me, I promise to be your devoted friend and supporter for life. Only, can we please have a small argument from time to time, for the sake of my sanity?
Please, please help,
Troubled Teacher
Prague
Czech Republic.
Chapter 9 TV review
Dear Tania,
I saw you last night on the BBC World Service and may I commend you on your excellent English. Your grammar was perfect, your pronunciation impeccable, and your use of vocabulary excellent. Indeed, may I say that that the quality of your English language far exceed that of your interviewer. I’m afraid that the BBC, like many other old and previously respected British institutions, notably the Health Service and the public transport system, is in a stage of rapidly declining standards.
I am not talking about the variety of accents which are now commonplace on our airwaves. Cultural diversity is fine, and the old BBC peopled only with Oxbridge pronunciation was both elitist and snobbish. What really worries me is the degradation of our fine British language into the degenerate version which the French, with their customary care and insight in linguistic matters, rightly call ‘American’.
One, but not the only, particularly worrying example of this is the blatant disregard for the use of prepositions. I know they are only tiny little words, but they have a job to do. In New York things happen Friday, in London they happen on Friday. These media people obviously don’t realize the disastrous consequences that the loss of prepositions will have on our society.
For example, you are ready to go to work and you ask your spouse,
“Where is my briefcase?”
to which she replies
“Table”.
You now have to dedicate precious minutes to investigating, ‘on the table’, ‘near the table’, ‘under the table’, ‘in front of the table’ etc.. Multiply this sorry scenario by ten, to allow for your sandwiches, your car keys, your house keys, your office keys, your mobile phone and so on. As a result, the total working population will be about one hour late for work every day. If you consider the similar situation occurring at the end of the working day you can calculate that we are talking here of about a twenty five percent reduction in the productivity of British industry and commerce. And you can lay the blame for the subsequent decline in living standards right at the doorstep of
these BBC TV journalists who obviously have a subliminal desire to work for CNN instead and a earn massive amounts of money. The Director General of the BBC ought to get off his backside and doing something about this right now, before the whole country goes down the drain.
In fact, given this evidence of his incompetence, the head of the BBC would do well to resign right now, and leave the way clear for someone with a genuine love for the integrity of the English language. Indeed, in this regard, the person who springs to mind is your good self, Tania. While the appointment of a twelve year old Russian of the female gender might raise eyebrows in some quarters (the job has previously only been held by a man) desperate situations call for desperate measures.
I know you may never have thought of such a career, but can I say that it is infinitely preferable to the path you are currently treading, because, while the form of your televisual communication was excellent, the content was frankly frightening. Logic would seem to indicate that nothing could be more innocuous than an advocate of world peace and universal brotherly love. If only life was a simple as Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity or Quantum Mechanics. The real world is unfortunately much more complex than advanced theoretical physics, and consists of unbelievably intricate and unfathomable things. I could cite, by way of example, international relationships between supposedly civilized countries, the workings of the female psyche and the internal machinations of the Windows (trademark Microsoft) operating system.
It is thus true that in the face of all logic, a proselytiser of world peace and brotherhood, far from being welcomed as the saviour of mankind, is seen as its most dangerous enemy. A few quick seconds of historical reflection are enough to confirm this. Remember, for example, the fates of Jesus Christ, Mahatma Ghandi and Martin Luther King.
So, what I’m trying to say is that, as a result of your twenty seconds of TV stardom, you have succeeded in putting yourself in the situation known to the American Secret Service (and therefore everyone else) as ‘clear and present danger’. You are now a target for all clandestine political, economic and religious fanatical factions with a point to make. The only good thing about this situation is that your Mum hasn’t yet realised the implications, and is basking in the warm reflected glow of your fleeting moment of fame. I’m certainly not going to point out the threat to her and I don’t advise you to do so either. We have enough on our plate without having your mother back in the nuthouse.
The thing is, what’s to be done? My first thought was to seek police protection, but we’re talking here about the Czech Police, and they would probably kill you themselves by accident. I also had the idea that you could go into hiding, but I can’t think of a way of doing it without your Mum having to find out. Another possibility would be a public renunciation. You go back on TV and confess that when you said that if we all stopped fighting and started to really love each other, the world would be a happier and more peaceful place, you were of course completely off your rocker. Thanks to your treatment in the psychiatric unit of the local hospital, and the patience and counsel of older and wiser people like politicians, businessmen from the international weapons industry, and leaders of the world’s major religions, your sanity has now been restored and you can see clearly that such an idea is untenable. However, although I have often written to you about the essentially pragmatic nature of truth, I would not be disappointed, and perhaps even pleased, if you found such a lie too much of an affront to your integrity.
I have come to the conclusion that in your case there is only one viable solution. You must join the secret service. In the current political climate, the CIA are probably overstaffed with Russian agents left over from the Cold War, but I believe the KGB are still active, and I’m sure your intelligence and language skills would be attractive to it. Given your tender age, you will probably be employed as a ‘sleeper’, which means that you will be held in reserve for use in much later years. In this way your mother need not know anything, and you will be benefiting from the protection of an organization which still counts for something in the dirty dark world of espionage.
Whatever you do, I think it is imperative that you get the protection of some organization behind you, and I urge you to take appropriate steps now. I, of course, will help you in any way I can
See you at our next lesson,
J.
Chapter 10. Minutes of the inaugural meeting of the LAW-HA-FLACE
Name of Society : League Against World Hatred And For Love Among Children Everywhere.
Founders. Tania and Honza
Chair girl : Tania
Minutes:
The chair girl welcomed the audience and thanked them for their attendance. Someone thanked her for the lemonade and American cookies so kindly prepared by her and her friend Ruthie. She told them they should enjoy the victuals provided, but she hoped they had been motivated to come by a higher force than the thought of a free bun-fight.
The chair girl then went on to explain her motivation in calling the meeting, and the aims and objectives of the organization she intended to form. She told the assembly of the contentment and happiness she had been feeling since she had become aware of the intelligence, worthiness and masculine beauty of her trusted friend and consort, Honza, The said Honza was requested to affirm that the euphoric feeling was mutual. Honza, his face an endearing shade of beetroot, concurred with an inaudible whisper and a barely perceptible nod of the head. She then went on to mention Mr. J, her exceptionally gifted and talented English teacher whom she had to thank for pointing out the need for such an organization. She wished to set up an institution to promote world-wide – she repeated the words ‘world-wide’ several times, with an oratorical confidence designed to draw gasps of amazement from her listeners – to promote world wide the same joy, happiness and feeling of well-being that she herself – and her constant companion Honza (more blushes) – were currently experiencing.
A discussion ensued about the proposed name of the organization. It was suggested that it was perhaps a bit long and cumbersome, but the chair girl pointed out that there was no point in sacrificing clarity for brevity. She did so with such force and determination that no-one, not even the one exceptionally gifted and talented English teacher present, dared to oppose her, so the proposed name of the society was adopted unanimously. Some time was then devoted to practising the accepted way of pronouncing the acronym of the chosen name. With practice, the name in fact became even pleasantly rhythmic and musical, and someone suggested that it might be a good idea to compose a club song, featuring the name in a sort of hip-hop funky rap setting. This was met with general acclamation, and a sub-committee was formed to produce this work.
The question of a constitution was raised, and the chair girl informed us that she had already prepared one which she hoped, - and at this point she stopped speaking and looked at us pointedly – would prove acceptable to all of us. A small freckled-faced red haired boy then stood up and begged our clever and pretty chairperson to read her proposal to us, and was later rewarded for his initiative with a place on the executive council of the group.
Membership of the league was to be open to all children, of whatever race, creed, religion, and no matter which football team or pop group they favoured. When the presence of the previously mentioned exceptionally gifted and talented but unfortunately adult English teacher was pointed out, it was proposed, seconded and unanimously carried that a limited number of life honorary memberships could be granted to exceptionally gifted and talented English teachers of any age, at the absolute discretion of the chair girl, naturally.
One dissenter spoke up in a somewhat aggrieved voice. While claiming to be a wholehearted supporter of equality of race, colour and creed, he felt that positive discrimination was a violation of these principles, and he wanted to know why this the constitution referred to a chair girl and not a chairperson. The freckled-face red-haired boy
who had earlier ingratiated himself made a further attempt to secure an elevated position in the organization by remarking that, while none of us could of course envisage the demise of our clever and pretty current chair girl, it would be perhaps be prudent to cater for unforeseen future changes and change the wording to chair person, and he terminated his discourse by flashing his silver-tinged dental appendages at the entire assembly. A member of the audience wearing a ’Save the Panda’ button badge raised the possibility of a future chair-frog or chair-cow, and it was agreed that the simple term ‘chair’ would be sufficient to designate the role.
The meeting moved on to the need for a committee, and the requirement for the election of such a committee by an equitable democratic process. Tania pointed out that she had, of course, taken the chair merely to facilitate the beginning of proceedings, and would now stand down to allow the meeting to select an appropriate leader. Before she had a chance to finish what she was saying, ‘red hair and freckle-face’ jumped up again to propose her as a worthy, clever and pretty leader of our fledgling enterprise. Honza, eyeing him with a rather suspicious frown, immediately seconded her nomination and she was elected unanimously.
