By chance I met a marvellous parent at school today. She, her two youngest children and I shared a brief lift journey this morning. Nothing unusual in that. However the conversation started in that terrible way where she knew who I was but I couldn't remember for the life of me who she was. In the space of three floors we talked summer holidays, drama and random stuff with me desperately trying to recall who she was. Recognising that I was floundering and wishing that the lift would go faster she, seemingly casually, dropped in to conversation the name of her eldest child who I teach and the conversation flowed without me having to lose to much face. I was impressed by such a smooth move and have decided, henceforth, to do the same thing.
Clearly this is also an appeal to help other teachers out. I know all 150+ students who I teach each week plus quite a lot more who I have had dealings with too, but I certainly can't remember all their parents as well. So, parents, please make sure you drop a little nugget of information about your child in to conversation just to give us teachers a fighting chance of knowing who we are talking to.
Why does Question Time get me so annoyed? I know that it shouldn't, but it does. Auntie Beeb kindly broadcasts it on the wireless as well as TV so that means that the Lawrence household breakfast early on Friday mornings can be munched to the accompaniment of Mr Dimbleby and assorted public figures and journalists debating matters of state and beyond. Except that that isn't really what it is, is it? Today's show, much many others in the past, followed the usual pattern of Party Politician A giving their line on story X followed by Party Politician B saying how ridiculous such a notion was and saying that it should be done differently before Celebrity C said words that announced which effectively announced which political party they supported leaving the listener liking or loathing that celebrity depending on their viewpoint. And then The Unidentified Dimbleby interrupted, irritatingly.
When I had the dubious privilege of standing in the last Parliamentary election I had to 'debate' at eight hustings where the three main party representatives said their stuff, largely repeating the same lines to different audiences. There was little room for debate or come back while the audiences, talking to them afterwards, were at worst already decided as to who they were voting for well-before the evening or at worst coy and said that their vote was "between me and the ballot box" with a knowing smile. In other words " Not you, mate." Nothing appeared to change as a result of those hustings and I do wonder whether anything changes from the weekly outings of Question Time. Yes it gives politicians air-time and gives the illusion that people's views are listened to but does it serve any purpose beyond that?
So why does it annoy me? It is the predictability of the whole thing. Surely any fool knows the various parties lines'on most matters and must know that the participants in Question Time practise their answers to questions about the day's news carefully beforehand. So whatever Dimbleby is dusted down and brought out to host the affair's promise of "lively, topical debate of the day" is in fact well rehearsed recitations with an occasional witty put down.
Or maybe I shouldn't mix muesli and politics?
I did enjoy an ice-blended mint bomb though. I had a meeting with a colleague from Music to debate, a genuine debate, ideas and thoughts for the next school show. Some of the best ideas come about when off school grounds in the neighbouring coffee shop and so there we sat, she with her tea and me quaffing a mint bomb. The ideas flowed.
I also enjoyed some prop free sword fighting today. Great to see kids smashing, parrying, jumping, stabbing and dying dramatically.
And finally a pat on the back to the performers and directors of "Art." I quite like Yasmina Reza's play about three men and a controversial piece of art. The version I saw this evening was performed in traverse at a local language school. OK it had quite a few things that the play purist in me didn't like but hats off to the director who decided to perform the play in a very intimate studio space and to an audience of 20. Good on them for being ambitious.