Culture Shock
Ever notice how some adults seem to take
pleasure in stopping other people from enjoying themselves? Take parents, for instance. Sometimes it seems like no is their favourite word. No, you
can’t have a puppy. No, you can’t have cookies
before dinner. No, you can’t jump off
the shed roof into the pool! And
teachers are even worse. No, we can’t have extra gym time today. No, you can’t sit wherever you want. No talking!
No running in the halls! No
washroom breaks! I could go on, but
you get the picture. The only thing
worse than parents saying no or
teachers saying no is when parents
and teachers get together and say no. I’m not saying I believe in conspiracy
theories, but when teachers and parents get together and agree on something,
well, let’s just say I’m suspicious.
That’s why, when Gordon, Paulo and I spotted a group of parents standing
outside the school fence during recess one day, we were all immediately
suspicious.
It was October and the school yard was full
of kids laughing, running, kicking soccer balls, skipping, swinging, sliding
and generally just doing what kids do best – having fun. Just as I was about to kick the soccer ball
and no doubt score the winning goal for my team, I spotted a group of mothers
on the sidewalk outside the school yard busily jotting things down in little
notebooks. Distracted, a kid from the
other team got the ball away from me and kicked it clear across the field,
scoring a goal.
“What was that all about?” yelled Paulo. “You let him take the ball away from you!”
“Look over there,” I said, pointing to the
women on the sidewalk.
“That can’t be good,” said Gordon, joining
us. “The last time the parents got
together like that, all the pop and juice machines got pulled out of the
school.”
“Yeah,” agreed Paulo. “And the time before that, they made us eat
healthy snacks every afternoon.”
“What now?” I wondered. The bell rang, and we lined up, quickly
forgetting about the parents on the sidewalk.
Meanwhile, the parents also made their way into the school and demanded
to speak to the principal.
“He’s busy,” said the secretary. “He’s in a meeting.”
“This won’t take long,” said one mother,
bursting into Mr. Evans’ office.
“Ladies!” said the principal, getting up
from the table where he was helping a kindergarten kid glue macaroni onto a
toilet paper roll. “What brings you here
on this fine day?”
“It’s about recess,” began one of the
mothers. “We were watching the students
outside just now, and it seems like all they were doing was running and
playing.”
“Yes,” said another mother. “There didn’t seem to be any learning going on.”
“And there was a definite lack of
organization,” chimed in another mom.
“Yes,” said Mr. Evans. “That’s the beauty of recess. “The kids get to run around and burn off excess
energy, and the teachers don’t have to organize or plan a thing. It’s a big hit at schools all over the world.”
“Well, we feel that the students’ time
could be better spent,” said one mother, clearly in charge of the group.
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Evans, gluing
another piece of macaroni to the toilet paper roll.
“Recess shouldn’t be a time for
meaningless fun and play. Recess time
should be used to enrich the students
with culture or fine literature.”
“I see,” said Mr. Evans, who clearly did not see.
Take away recess? How would he ever break the news to the
teachers? Not to mention the kids!
“Recess is an important part of the
student’s day,” he began. “Studies
show—”
“Nonsense!” interrupted the woman in
charge. “Studies show that our kids know
nothing of art, classical music and other forms of culture.”
“You don’t want to be responsible for
helping to raise a generation of cultureless kids, do you?” demanded another
mother.
“Well,” said Mr. Evans, wiping glue from
his fingers. “We already have a wonderful
art program here at Danglemore Public School, and our
music teacher, Ms. Drone—” Again he was
cut off.
“We need to bring in professionals. Let these
kids see what real art is! Listen to classical music! Watch a live performance! How much money is in the school budget?”
The principal sighed in defeat.
A few days later, Mr. Evans announced that
starting on Monday, there would be no more recess at Danglemore
Public School. Instead, we would spend
our recesses learning about classical music, ballet and art by the masters like
Picasso and Van Gogh. We would have live
performers come to the school and we’d be taught by real artists. No more playing soccer, running around or
skipping. No, siree! We were going to become cultured.
It turns out that there was no money at
all in the school budget for this new “cultural” program, but did that stop the
mothers? No! They took a vote and decided that the
students could all pay to see a live performer or bring in a guest artist. They quickly discovered that guest artists
and live performers charge an awful lot to visit schools, but after much
searching, they found a performer who was willing to come to our school for a
reasonable sum. A note went home asking
each student to contribute ten dollars for the next day’s cultural event, to be
held at ten o’clock the next morning, which was perfect, said the mothers,
because that way, we could spend our lunch recess practising
what the live performer taught us.
“Who is this live performer?” asked Gordon.
“It says here,” said Mrs. Hoagsbrith, consulting a sheet of paper, “that tomorrow’s
guest performer is a mime.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A mime is a person who doesn’t talk. He wears white paint on his face and he pretends
to do things like climb a ladder or ride a bike. Or he might pretend to swim or read a book.”
“That’s crazy!” exclaimed Gordon. “I climb real ladders and go for real bike
rides all the time. And now we have to pay to watch some guy pretend to do all those things?”
“It’s worse than that,” said Paulo. “We’re expected to practise
what we learn during our recess time, remember?” The entire class groaned.
“Well, that’s culture, I guess,” sighed
Mrs. H. “Just don’t forget your ten
dollars tomorrow, everyone.”
The next morning, the entire school headed
to the gym at ten o’clock clutching ten dollar bills in our hands. We sat in rows on the floor and Mr. Evans
walked onto the stage to introduce the mime.
“Attention, everyone. We are about to begin our first cultural performance
here at Danglemore Public School. I am pleased to introduce this morning’s
guest performer – Jack the Mime!”
We politely applauded until Jack waved for
us to stop. Then he immediately went
into his act. He pretended to peel and
eat a banana and when he was done, he pretended to slip on the peel and
fall. Only the kindergarten kids in the
front row laughed. Next, Jack the Mime pretended that he was caught in a wind storm and
struggled to walk in the gale-force winds.
Then he pretended to climb a ladder, read a book and for his grand
finale, he was chased by what I can only guess was a big dog. I had to admit that as far as mimes went,
Jack was quite talented. What I really learned,
however, was that I didn’t like mimes.
So much for culture.
When he finished his routine, Jack bowed
deeply to the audience and held out his hat.
Mr. Evans rushed onto the stage and motioned for us to begin
clapping.
“Now,” said Mr. Evans, “it’s time to pay
Jack for his inspiring and enriching performance. Please form a line and drop your money into
Jack’s hat on your way out.”
There was a sudden commotion as Gordon
pushed his way to the front of the line.
Hmmm,
I wonder what Gordon’s up to, I thought.
It’s odd that he would want to be
the first to pay. Don’t tell me he liked
the show that much! And then it
happened.
Gordon held up his hand to get everyone’s
attention, and when the room fell silent, he suddenly began acting like a
mime. He pretended to reach into his
pockets searching for his money. Then,
in the back pocket of his jeans, he pretended to find it. He held out an imaginary ten dollar bill and
smiled. Then he pretended to drop the
money into Jack’s hat, bowed and walked away.
The entire room of kids broke out into
spontaneous clapping, cheering and foot stamping. Everyone began talking at once, saying that
Gordon’s act was way better than the real mime’s performance. Before the teachers could get control of
their classes, every kid in the school decided that they wanted to be the next
to pretend to pay the mime. A stampede
of students trampled over Mr. Evans and the mothers who had organized the
cultural event. Chairs went flying. People shoved and pushed. Jack the Mime cowered silently in a
corner.
When the dust finally settled and the
teachers had regained control over their classes, we were herded back to our
rooms. A minute later, Mr. Evans made an
announcement.
“As of right now,” he said wearily, “all
culture is suspended at Danglemore Public
School. Normal recess activities will
resume effective immediately! And anyone
pretending to be a mime will be suspended!”
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