A Class Of Her Own – Daniel 25

 

[For back story go here: Story so far.]

[Relevant back story links also within text.]

Mrs Chistlehurst had always loved children. From the very first inklings about what she might do with her life she was absolutely certain children would be involved. It took no stretch of anyone's imagination – as she sat down her soft toys in imaginary classroom after imaginary classroom, handing out awards, chastising the occasional naughty bear – that one day she would end up in front of a class of actual kids. She had been the first experience of learning for many generations so far, and each one, she felt had been better than the last. Which was, of course, why the current situation was so difficult.

While 'hands on' might be over-stretching the mark, teaching was meant to be about getting stuck in there – of being on a level with the children, understanding the world from their point of view, reflecting their questions and leading them to the answers. At the moment it felt it was more about identifying which child was in which bubble, how to navigate the one way system round the school building just to go to the toilet, repetitively going over the basic rules of hygiene and trying somewhat desperately to calm young nerves.

"Your daughter is delightful," began Mrs Chistlehurst, "and she's quite a – lively – child, isn't she?" 

She and Daniel were standing in the playground, suitable distanced and ten minutes before pick-up time. Chistlehurst had asked Daniel to come early for a quick chat, framing it as a way of getting to know the new child and her father better. Daniel had taken the invitation at face value, although he was already suspecting there might be another motive under the surface, just waiting to get out.

"She's got a great imagination," Daniel agreed, "Honestly, the things we get up to at home – just never ceases to amaze me. And it's really quite tiring – in a good way, of course – in a great way. I love it. Love it, yes."

"Her mother not around?"

"She was staying with her but we decided to..."

"The school she was at said she was happy although finding some difficulties in settling in."

"Right," said Daniel. "I guess it's just all new for her."

"Yes, yes and she's certainly finding her feet here," said Mrs Chistlehurst. "Which is good. Tell me, is there anyone French in the family?"

Daniel's mind spun a little. "French?"

"It's just, every now and then, when she gets upset she stops speaking English and starts speaking French. Lots of French. Which is nice, impressive, but – a little confusing."

"Right," said Daniel. "She went to France with her mother, maybe..."

"She shouts in French," clarified Chistlehurst. "When she gets angry she shouts in French. Thankfully it is French so there's only a few of us who... fully appreciate what she's saying."

Daniel felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. "Well," he sighed, "I suppose being bi-lingual could be good now, but obviously if..."

"I just wanted to mention it now, before it becomes a thing," said the teacher. "And as you say, being bi-lingual is quite impressive. Although it would be nice if the vocabulary wasn’t quite so…”

"I'll have a word with her," said for Daniel. "And her mum, too. We do talk about that kind of stuff."

"And then there's the dinosaurs," said Mrs Chistlehurst, trying not to sound like she was just warming up to her subject. "She's hitting people with the dinosaurs."

Daniel would have liked the playground to have opened up at that point and taken him away somewhere. A real life version of the transportation game he frequently played with Daisy at home, the one where you closed your eyes really tightly and shouted out the place you wanted to go and when you opened your eyes you and the other person had to pretend you were already there.

TENERIFE! Daniel would have shouted, but in this context the outcome would be very very far from fun. He doubted Chistlehurst would have played, even if she knew the rules.

And so, to his horror, he found himself doing what he usually did when receiving bad feedback from a client. He found a comfortable smile to maintain on his face and just stood there, listening, nodding, taking it in, but fully aware that he'd only be able to act on maybe two or three of the points being made.There was a point where the amount of information being given to him was basically background noise, something that just gave him a broader picture.

And as with work he would always a survive these times by holding on to the positive pieces of information that had started them off down this path. His daughter was delightful, lively and bi-lingual.