Ra Jobbie!
Tuesday 11:18 p.m.
They were leaving today. There is a space I'm supposed to be in control of in the jobbie where I work, but because the pupils have exams, I've been pretty closed down for a couple of weeks. But there weren't any exams today when the three of them arrived, and there was only me. They'd drifted in.
One kid has multiple hair cuts and has told folk he might be bi-sexual recently. One other kid is going to college (which means he's not on the dole figures) and the girl is dead smart, but having maybe a bad time. Her best friend when she was six or seven was killed by the currant who massacred the kiddos in Dunblane. She has been beautiful and she will be beautiful in future, but right now she's not getting on with her mum and dad.
She meets with her mum. She hasn't seen her for four months. She says her mum is crying a lot, but she can't cry. She tells me this, and do I want to know, a couple of days ago.
So they come in. I've been having a pretty wonderful time, what with the place being empty, and when they come in, I resist hassling them at all. These three kids know me.
It's more of the last day for the boys than it is for the girl, who is dead smart, but missing exams, etc. Sometimes she appears and I always say okay because she is one of us really. The last day is really only for the sixth years. These folk didn't get that far.
They come into my space, behind the counter. The girl hands me a felt tip pen and tells me to write on her back. She turns. She's got a green jumper top thing on. I say: what? Then I write across her shoulder blades: MEDITATE!
She's the only girl who tried to hug me. I backed off. As you should. But I wrote something on her back. I told the kid, who's parents had parted and how hurt he was,to stay off the smack. The bi-sexual kid will have a wonderful life in hairdressing, and will be fine in that.
I've seen them grow up. Usually, I was far too tired, or too hung over, or funged up, to be of much help, but in their passing ... I did try.
Will it make any difference, Hotboy? Well, Jack, I do not think so. But I tried my best.
I never think of young people as flatheids. People of my age who do not meditate, well ... well, well, what can you say about them?
Well, what can you say about them, Hotboy? We're playing the long game here, Jack. Just last night we found someone who knew about ra bliss! What a fortunate creature I was then, Jack! What a fortunate creature I was then!
They were leaving today. There is a space I'm supposed to be in control of in the jobbie where I work, but because the pupils have exams, I've been pretty closed down for a couple of weeks. But there weren't any exams today when the three of them arrived, and there was only me. They'd drifted in.
One kid has multiple hair cuts and has told folk he might be bi-sexual recently. One other kid is going to college (which means he's not on the dole figures) and the girl is dead smart, but having maybe a bad time. Her best friend when she was six or seven was killed by the currant who massacred the kiddos in Dunblane. She has been beautiful and she will be beautiful in future, but right now she's not getting on with her mum and dad.
She meets with her mum. She hasn't seen her for four months. She says her mum is crying a lot, but she can't cry. She tells me this, and do I want to know, a couple of days ago.
So they come in. I've been having a pretty wonderful time, what with the place being empty, and when they come in, I resist hassling them at all. These three kids know me.
It's more of the last day for the boys than it is for the girl, who is dead smart, but missing exams, etc. Sometimes she appears and I always say okay because she is one of us really. The last day is really only for the sixth years. These folk didn't get that far.
They come into my space, behind the counter. The girl hands me a felt tip pen and tells me to write on her back. She turns. She's got a green jumper top thing on. I say: what? Then I write across her shoulder blades: MEDITATE!
She's the only girl who tried to hug me. I backed off. As you should. But I wrote something on her back. I told the kid, who's parents had parted and how hurt he was,to stay off the smack. The bi-sexual kid will have a wonderful life in hairdressing, and will be fine in that.
I've seen them grow up. Usually, I was far too tired, or too hung over, or funged up, to be of much help, but in their passing ... I did try.
Will it make any difference, Hotboy? Well, Jack, I do not think so. But I tried my best.
I never think of young people as flatheids. People of my age who do not meditate, well ... well, well, what can you say about them?
Well, what can you say about them, Hotboy? We're playing the long game here, Jack. Just last night we found someone who knew about ra bliss! What a fortunate creature I was then, Jack! What a fortunate creature I was then!
posted by Hotboy at 11:17 PM
10 Comments:
I really enjoyed this tale, and am interested that by both their and your choice a special relationship developed with these pupils who are that little bit different. It's a shame you couldn't accept a hug from the bright girl, but I understand the reasons why. Thank God she didn't ask you to write a message on her front! I was a little bit different myself in school and the special friendships I had with a couple of teachers are still with me. Mr Hollywood let me spend time writing stories when I should've been doing maths, and told me on the sly that I'd done well on the IQ tests they made us sit in P7. Mr. Henderson encouraged my embarrassing teenage poetry and told me it was rather good. He lied, but it meant a lot at the time.
Ion: I'm glad you liked it! Someone told me all they remembered about me at school was the laugh coming from the back. Ghosted along with as little aggravation as possible. No special relationships with any teachers, and there were no girls! But your poetry might have been good! Hotboy
Some people have been been pretty closed down for a lifetime.
What else can one expect at a mixed school? Try and get a job at a normal boys' school, that would help.
The Institute is co-ed, but the subject I teach attracts only male students, thank goodness. No visual distractions or hormonal complications. Thank goodness I'm not bisexual.
Is the girl one of us in the thatcherian sense? That would help.
Onan! Thank goodness you're not bi-sexual as well! The catholics in Bavaria wouldn't like that! Don't you think it's a bit odd that no girls come to your classes. What do you teach? Motorcycle maintenance mayhap? Hotboy
Currant! I can't remember if one of us was just not the opposite of one of them. Frankly, I was on the barrel at the time and maybe got a bit confused! I'm just a sentimental joe at heart! Hotboy
I don't understand. Who was the lass that had you over a barrel?
Your (i.e my) comments are still going to your Bulk email folder, whence they get junked. This comment is a test.
Okay, I did a fix which has solved it for now.
Albert? You've got the job! Your comment arrived in the mail box! Hurrah! Hotboy
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