Thursday, August 31, 2006

Red Rum. Red Rum.

Had a lesson dumped into my schedule at short notice today:

Worst.
Child.
Ever.

As me Dad says: “Is he puddled, him?”. Translation from Derbyshire Dialect “I think this young man may have learning-based difficulties”

Can’t remember his name. Maybe I’ve blanked it. Taught him for a one-off lesson and hopefully will never see his face again. Except, maybe, for when I turn out the light tonight.

Generally, he seemed happy to swat objects off the table, and giggle maniacally to himself whilst scribbling angrily on paper. I noticed he was holding the pencil as a killer holds a kitchen knife.

And, for an entire thirty minutes, he refused to acknowledge my existence. He wouldn’t look at me or respond to me, except to assault me with Duplo, crayons and corgi cars.

Waiting out in the hall was his “mother”, although it could well have been his grandmother. She was rather crone-like, had a head shaped like a parallelogram and sported a set of chequerboard teeth. She reminded me of a pissed witch.

She had another offspring in a pushchair that had massive ears, cross eyes and what looked like shit on his chin. He rocked a bit as well.

I think these were genuine Japanese in-breds. Why his parents want him to learn English is beyond me. He’ll probably spend his life on a high rock near Mt Fuji picking off hikers with a crossbow. He will have probably named the crossbow.

The Japanese receptionist trotted out her one-size-fits-all explanation: “he’s just shy”.

Shy? Shy? I am reminded of a scene from one of my favourite films: Manhunter.

After being incarcerated by FBI agent Will Graham, Hannibal Lektor (Brian Cox) is studying forensic evidence on another murder case in an attempt to help track down serial killer “The Tooth Fairy”. After looking through the file, Lektor delivers his final conclusions to the FBI.

“Hmmmm. This killer - he’s a shy boy, Will” says Lektor.

Yes. The boy I taught today was “shy”. And one day he too will be the subject of an investigation, I’m sure.

It’ll be the stench from the attic. That’ll be the giveaway.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dear Boy, As you know father is a Chartered Engineer and M.I.E.E. , I only used to lapse into the Derbyshhire vernacular to enable you to understand considering you were borne near Stoke-on-Trent, the Baghdad of the North Midlands

Phil said...

Geraaaat!

giacomo said...

Red Rum ryhmes with Bum.