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February 22, 2006
Matchbox Hell.
Jean Paul Sartre could not have had any kids, or if he did it must have been Simone De Beauvoir who had the pleasure of dropping them off at the school every morning. Hell is not other people, other people are just mildly annoying. They simply get in your way in the supermarket, or take up the last seat on the bus with their shopping, or just stagger past your door, swearing at the top of their voice at 11:30pm on a Friday night. Oh no hell is not other people at all, hell is other parents.
Littleone’s class had homework for the half term, they had to decorate a matchbox and fill it with a donation to charity. There will be a prize for most imaginatively decorated matchbox in each year group. So far so glittery carpet AGAIN!
Yet thankfully Littleone forgot about the glitter and decided to make a patchwork matchbox instead. So I admit, I cut out the small squares of fabric with the pinking shears because I feared for her fingers but she did all the gluing herself. She picked the scrap of lace to tie around the middle and struggled to tie a bow. I helped her just a touch but mainly it was her idea and she was proud of the sticky, lopsided result. And so she should have been, remember she’s only four.
The matchboxes had to be handed in today. Most of them resembled my daughter’s effort, not because they were made out of scraps of fabric, for there were all sorts of messy ideas there; stickers, screwed up bits of tissue paper, splodges of paint etc, but what they all shared in common was that DIY wonkyness, the vision of a parent hovering over, allowing the child’s creativity full reign whilst trying not to sigh at the mess that would have to be cleared up later.
The rest arrived in the arms of the parents who paraded the playground so that us lesser mortals could see the works of art they clutched. In addition they were handed straight to the teacher, heaven forbid that the children should be allowed anywhere near them. One had all sorts of intricately and symmetrically cut additions to make it look like a car. Another was a grand dinosaur complete with cartoon eyes and mouth, not to mention coloured WITHIN the lines and with NO gaps. I could go on but I think you get the picture, either we have a disproportionate number of mini artistic geniuses in this class, or these kids had a little too much help from the parents.
Just a hint of the word ‘prize’ and see what insecurities crawl out of the woodwork. Because let’s face it, if these parents thought they were really that clever they’d be testing their artistic talents against people their own age, not a bunch of four year olds. And if you would stoop so low as to infiltrate a kids’ competition, just so that you can feel good about yourself, then I suggest you spend your hard earned cash on an hour’s therapy, rather than the entire craft section of ELC.
Losers every last one of them.
Posted by purple elephant at February 22, 2006 05:20 PM