It is “in-bred” with too many “social crumbs” and “degrees”, employing pleasant sounding professional yeast, giving “rise” to the slices that once belonged to the parental loaf.
Thus, though what academics consumed or absorbed often ends up “half-baked” the verbal and written pedantic pretense, is out of this world, and the “sodium content” far too high. The “you-name-it-we-can-do-it” “happy, happy” classroom ends up being pumpernickled to death.
I used to hold a piece of chalk. However, the chalk broke. Was it because of the board? Guess one didn’t have enough “class” and so, I retired twenty-three years later.
There are many fond memories. One classic “punner” was the experience of commuting in the old clunker and arriving at my school portable to find that the steps to both doors had been removed. When the principal arrived, I asked him what might the solution be.
His reply? “Steps will be taken.”
I handed out plenty of pun-ishment. For example, the Hallowe’en high of all that sugar really kicked in a couple of days after this academically charged period. When the recess bell went, the easy-going youngsters ran out the doors like lightning bolts.
Then a wonderful event occurred: the automatic bell refused to call them back. They ended up with plenty of extra time to run that sugar off.
Therefore, I said to one of the administrators they should receive the “no bell peace prize”.
Not even a smile!
It reminds me of trying a bit of stand-up comedy on amateur night at a downtown club. What did they tell me? Sit down!
All those years enjoying the delights of imparting academic insight to classes with a hunger for Roman history. Actually, it was Greek to me, too. I felt like the owner of a bicycle shop wanting to retire because even my jokes were going flat, feeling deflated and retired.
Which reminds me, what do you call a person at a bicycle shop who is in charge of marketing? A spokesperson?
After more than two decades in classrooms from Grade Four to the “graduating” Sevens, the system had no choice but to provide a reduced pension, not full, but still nothing to kick at. That provided more time to partake in the passion that provided some sanity from “edge-u-cation”, garage sales.
I’d never bought a garage but did buy practically everything else, including cameras, accordions, whatever one could “squeeze” into our double car garage. Of course, for many years, now, there has been no room left for the cars. The family was delighted!