Schools: A Word of Warning About Fake Grass
This cautionary tale is set in soggy England: the land of rain, royalty, and unusually inventive school children. As part of an apparent global scheme to eradicate all remaining traces of nature, it was decided that a gross proportion of my school should be re-turfed with fake grass. Despite greeting us on the first day of term with the same disconcerting suddenness as swallowing a large lump of limescale when sipping your obligatory morning tea, this new addition was a definite improvement over the otherwise patchy mudslide of a hillside. Once the stain of its intense green pigment had left my retinas, it soon became clear that this momentarily shocking change had… absolutely no effect on my life whatsoever. The novelty of fake grass and its synthetic blades quickly wore off (our collective attention instead diverted to the boy eating grit from beneath the table tennis tables). However, with the addition of water and a few hundred absent minded schoolboys, the staff room magic circle quickly realised what a dreadful mistake they had made…
The Very Real Consequences Of Fake Grass:
Unless you live in Dubai or on The Sun, you are most likely familiar with concept of rain: a natural phenomenon engineered to bring about excess misery to our already dull and quintessentially British lives. Look, long (and hyperbolic) story short: Fake grass becomes unbelievably slippery after, and especially during, rainfall.
It was not long before the discovery of our new water slide had spread across the entire school. After a night of rain, just a single step upon this obnoxiously green surface would cause you to be viciously flung into the cold air and then, restoring the power of gravity, plummet to the mud below with a resounding squelch. Ignoring the blatant dangers that come with hurling yourself off of anything, cohorts of boisterous schoolboys would charge to this site and spend literal hours sliding down the ever so slippery fake grass. Not content with merely sliding down the hill, they soon began to heave classroom desks to the top of the hill to create a set of hurdles. They were completely unaware of the injuries already suffered by their testosterone fueled predecessors (partly because the blood stains were hardly visible against the overwhelmingly green fake grass). The nurse’s office was a stinking hormonal mess: teeming with bloody schoolboys, a layer of stagnant sweat upon the once sanitary floor and a pile of amputated grass stained limbs in the corner (okay, maybe not that last one).
However, for some unknown reason, the teachers were not particularly pleased at the sight of pupils hurtling arse first past their second floor classroom windows. The staff (now wearing solar eclipse glasses to combat the piercingly green grass blades) were forced to peel away the blood stained fake grass, leaving behind a rather unattractive array of mud and razor sharp stones. This rather drastic measure seemed to be the solution, but believe me, there would still be blood. For the students, unable to get their daily fix of adrenaline and hospital insulin drip, soon became intent on seeking revenge…
Three torn up petitions later, the pupils promptly forgot about it all. The school returned back to normal routine and everyone soon reverted back to licking the underside of table tennis tables. Well, at least you teachers have one thing on your side: a memory spanning longer than a week.