Alan Eardley
One Too Many
- Messages
- 1,500
- Location
- Midlands, UK
In war-time and post-war UK, rationing of food, clothes and fuel created a situation of 'virtuous equality', in which people went to extremes to show that they were in the same situation and had the same things as their neighbours. To do otherwise was to appear unpatriotic, lacking moral fibre or at least to invite criticism - unless it was nylon stockings from GIs, apparently.
In these circumstances, there were three widely recognised Mortal Vices, which in those times of crisis helped to hold together the fabric of society and which had to be avoided at all costs:
Vice 1 Being 'big-headed' - having a high opinion of yourself;
Vice 2 'Showing off' - bragging about having something that others didn't;
Vice 3 Being a 'know-all' - claiming to know something that others didn't.
One day in the early 1950s my friends and I turned up at the village school to find that we had a delightful new teacher. Young, blonde and pretty, she had spent the war in America, where she had done her teacher training. We adored her! Based on films seen at our Saturday morning cinema club, we imagined America to be populated by cowboys, 'red Indians' and gangsters. Heaven! Incredible as it seemed, we were assured that in America lots of ordinary people actually owned motor cars!
Then one day, she dropped a bombshell. In her teaching practice she had learned a classroom activity which she called 'show and tell'. This was clearly very different from our normal 'rote learning' of numbers, weights and measurements and memorising the world's capital cities. With a sort of rising panic we gathered that she wanted us to bring something from home and to stand in front of the class and tell the others something about it!
We were stunned. The shock to the class was palpable. Clearly this placed our mortal souls in (at least) double jeopardy - we would be guilty of the first and second vice and even in serious danger of falling prey to the third. We 'huddled' after school and decided that a Ghandi-like policy of passive resistance was our only course of action.
On the appointed day, we sat, arms folded, with quiet but fierce resolve. Our young teacher asked us one by one what we had brought and shaking heads and a stony silence was the only result. She encouraged, then pleaded and finally raged at us, with no success. 'Captain Mainwaring' would have been proud! In the end she stormed out and returned with the feared Headmaster, who asked the nearest pupil what was wrong. 'Please, sir' said the girl with a combination of scandalous outrage and accusation that I can't quite manage in an e-mail, ''Er wants uz ter show off!".
The Headmaster, understanding the situation instantly, took the young teacher by the elbow and steered her out of the room. Clearly, he took her to his office and explained to her how things worked. She returned in a few moments, rather red-faced, and we were back to reciting our multiplication tables...
Alan
In these circumstances, there were three widely recognised Mortal Vices, which in those times of crisis helped to hold together the fabric of society and which had to be avoided at all costs:
Vice 1 Being 'big-headed' - having a high opinion of yourself;
Vice 2 'Showing off' - bragging about having something that others didn't;
Vice 3 Being a 'know-all' - claiming to know something that others didn't.
One day in the early 1950s my friends and I turned up at the village school to find that we had a delightful new teacher. Young, blonde and pretty, she had spent the war in America, where she had done her teacher training. We adored her! Based on films seen at our Saturday morning cinema club, we imagined America to be populated by cowboys, 'red Indians' and gangsters. Heaven! Incredible as it seemed, we were assured that in America lots of ordinary people actually owned motor cars!
Then one day, she dropped a bombshell. In her teaching practice she had learned a classroom activity which she called 'show and tell'. This was clearly very different from our normal 'rote learning' of numbers, weights and measurements and memorising the world's capital cities. With a sort of rising panic we gathered that she wanted us to bring something from home and to stand in front of the class and tell the others something about it!
We were stunned. The shock to the class was palpable. Clearly this placed our mortal souls in (at least) double jeopardy - we would be guilty of the first and second vice and even in serious danger of falling prey to the third. We 'huddled' after school and decided that a Ghandi-like policy of passive resistance was our only course of action.
On the appointed day, we sat, arms folded, with quiet but fierce resolve. Our young teacher asked us one by one what we had brought and shaking heads and a stony silence was the only result. She encouraged, then pleaded and finally raged at us, with no success. 'Captain Mainwaring' would have been proud! In the end she stormed out and returned with the feared Headmaster, who asked the nearest pupil what was wrong. 'Please, sir' said the girl with a combination of scandalous outrage and accusation that I can't quite manage in an e-mail, ''Er wants uz ter show off!".
The Headmaster, understanding the situation instantly, took the young teacher by the elbow and steered her out of the room. Clearly, he took her to his office and explained to her how things worked. She returned in a few moments, rather red-faced, and we were back to reciting our multiplication tables...
Alan