(Addressing one of the mothers.) Would you excuse me just for one moment?
(Shouting off.) Can everyone just be aware that a jar of bugs has been spilt so please tread carefully!
(Addressing the mother again.) Sorry about that: our After School Science Club. Unfortunately for me, the emphasis is very much on practical this term!
Right, where were we Mrs Parsons, well I think that your daughter Rachel Parsons is a smashing girl she has a kind character but if I may continue Mrs Parsons, I think that Rachel Parsons has…I’m sorry, you’re quite right: I don’t need to keep using your daughter’s full name, it is as you correctly say, superfluous. I think that Rachel and parents don’t always like to hear this Mrs Parsons, but, I think that Rachel has gone as far as she can academically with us. Sorry, one moment…
(Addressing the pupils.) Claire! Claire don’t become too attached to that earthworm will you – it’s going to be returned to its natural environment remember…
(To the mother.) and so will all of you at half past thankfully…but – there’s plenty to be upbeat about Mrs Parsons. Rachel has displayed other skills and interests in non-academic pursuits. For example in April she set up a Running Club and just last week in the staff room Madame Bertoli could be overheard praising her jam rolypoly with the passion of a thousand fires. So, there really is a lot of room for positivity here.
(To the pupils.) You’re supposed to be writing things down remember girls! And remember to wear gloves if you dealing with any live and/or dead organic matter.
(To the mother.) Apathy, total apathy. They live their life through a screen don’t they?
(She makes beeping noises and pretends to shoot people as if playing a computer game.) …that sort of thing. And as for the boys, I cannot begin to imagine what the effects are from such early exposure to pornography. What kind of model for intimacy is that for later life? There is a danger that they will expect all women they meet outside the virtual realm to be plucked and shiny with augmented breasts – and that simply isn’t the case as you and I both well know Mrs Parsons. I feel I should apologise for that last remark Mrs Parsons: your torso is none of my beeswax! Interestingly enough, I once wrote a whole lesson plan on beeswax only to find that the Head hadn’t approved it – she’s not here today – she’s attending Thatcher’s funeral. My plan was to inform the children that they were all flowering apple trees and that I was a bee and that they were to all raise their palms in the air like so (She demonstrates.). The bee, me, would then buzz through the classroom, placing my hand upon theirs, leaving a yellowy sticky residue – most likely egg or similar. Whoever is left with egg or similar on their hand HAS BEEN POLLINATED and will go on to produce apples – and those without, won’t. The Head said she didn’t think I should be touching, let alone fertilizing, the children’s hands and that those who didn’t get pollinated might feel rejected. Ah well, half-term soon: dreamy!
(Studying the pupils wistfully.) One does wish their skirts were just an inch or two longer…