Haha...!

Last week my creativity was abruptly and forcefully suppressed by two of my dear fellow mothers (you know who you are) when we were practicing story writing at our children’s school. I would have written the longest last sentence possible, longer than the rest of the story altogether, full of exciting adjectives, alliterations, interesting verbs, you name it, added a few extra characters and possibly a new storyline with even more adjectives and alliterations (and used all these other things/terms I can’t name, that is why I stick to these two again). I would have asked extra time from our kids’ teachers, skipped the coffee break, just to have this great ending. It would have been such a triumph! …despite of the fact that we were just shown how the children learn their story writing and also no one was even going to read these stories, but I… never mind!

I have to admit (including the fact that I was just joking earlier and didn’t actually mean anything mean towards my friends mentioned above. I wouldn’t necessarily say when I’ve been joking, because I would expect people just to get my jokes, but it’s quite a sensitive subject and once I learnt my lesson in that matter. Sorry, have to tell you this. I’ve always thought it’s an American thing to let your talking partner know that you were just joking after you’d cracked one and also, and more importantly when I was a young girl my brothers taught me that I should never laugh at my own joke. So once upon a time (it’s not a tall tale!) there was going to be a joke telling competition at school and every class had to send their representatives to this main event. And to pick the best ones who could represent our class, we all had to stand up individually by our desks and tell a joke to other classmates. The ones that got the biggest laughter were the chosen ones. So my classmates were telling their jokes and laughed themselves afterwards, some awkwardly as not being used to being funny, some loudly thinking that they’re the funniest, and when it was my turn I knew exactly what to do – not to laugh at my own joke! And as a matter of fact no one else did either. So I sat down, confused how come no one recognised my funny joke (I’m sure it was funny... or at least laughable) and a little disappointed in myself. Unless they were all giggling and laughing inwardly).

I learnt at an early age not to laugh (at your own joke).

I do apologise for going a bit off course as I was supposed to admit in the beginning of the previous extended paragraph that it’s very different, the way the school works nowadays, from the time when I was a school kid. My parents never got a chance to come to school and be a fly on the wall, as that’s how we were attracted to go in to see our children last week, quoting the school’s letter “Have you ever fancied being a fly on the wall and seeing for yourself what your child is up to in school?” Honestly, it’s not like you’re being a fly on the wall, as I don’t expect the teachers involving flies in their studies and ask them to partner up with the children, practice their maths and (creative?) writing skills. Also if I was a fly I’d quite likely end up dead by the end of the session or (even worse?) trapped inside the school for an unknown future.

And additionally on a similar note – it is not at all what I was planning to write today and just for your information I’m aware that ‘fly on the wall’ is just an idiom, but couldn’t resist taking it literally.